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FEMALE BIOGRAPHY; 
 
 CONTAINING NOTICES 
 
 DISTINGUISHED WOMEN, 
 
 DIFFERENT NATIONS AND AGES. 
 
 BY SAMUEL L. KNAPP, 
 
 AUTHOR OF LECIORES ON AMERICAN LITERATURE, ADVICE IN THE PURSUITS OF UTERATUKS, 
 
 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY, ETC. ETC. 
 
 '■ fairest of creation, last and best 
 Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd 
 "Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
 Holy, divine, good, amiable or aweet."— Milton. 
 
 " Lords of the world, as ye are proudly called, 
 
 By your own sex applaudftd and extolled 
 
 For every good— is woman's lovely frame 
 
 A gemless casket— fitted but to claim 
 
 The eye's devotion? Perish such a thought, 
 
 Here, learn her worth, and prize her as ye ought ; 
 
 Though she permits your rougher hand to bear 
 
 The rod of power— your loftier brow to wear 
 
 The glittering badge of sovereignty— she still 
 
 Directs, unseen, the sceptre at her will. 
 
 "Wisdom may act, determine, or approve. 
 
 Still the prime mover is, and must be, L.ove."—Woodioorth, 
 
 STEREOTYPED BY FRANCIS F. RIPLEY. 
 
 THOMAS WARDLE, No. 141 CHESTNUT ST. 
 
 1843. 
 
Entkrkd, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1833, by Samuel L. Knapp, in the 
 Clerk's offif-e of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 We have carefully examined the histories and biographies of women, as 
 they are found in the literature of European nations, and have come to the 
 conclusion, that many wrong opinions are generally entertained, m regard to 
 the treatment and influence of women, both in times past, and at the present. 
 Alexander, in his history of women, has stated a great number of facts to 
 show that in oriental countries, women have always been in a degraded state- 
 He draws too many unfavorable inferences, from a few individual cases, in 
 our humble opinion. Cox, in his Female Scripture Biography, has followed 
 in the same track ; but more modern researches has done much to correct the 
 erroneous impressions we formerly imbibed. It is unquestionably true, that 
 where men are in thraldom, women share the evil ; and that when tyranny is 
 the basis of a government, that it will find its way into domestic life : but 
 there are many checks to ambitious power in the very nature of the minds and 
 dispositions of mankind. Egypt, the cradle of nations, and of the arts and 
 sciences, affords us no instances of extraordinary bondage or servitude among 
 their females. If Pharoah's daughter had not possessed a good share of free- 
 dom of thought and action, the infant Moses would have perished in the 
 rushes. If Miriam, the sister of Moses, had been secluded from society, she 
 would not have had an opportunity of witnessing the rescue of her brother. 
 If this same Miriam had not been well educated, would she have been a pro- 
 phetess in Israel 1 Or, if the women had been entirely secluded, as some would 
 have us believe women of her nation were, could she have led them' to sing 
 the chorus of the song of her brother Moses, for the deliverance of the Israel- 
 ites from the hands of Pharoah ; and if the women in that day had not some- 
 thing to do in the affairs of government, would she have joined her brother 
 Aaron in speaking against Moses, her brother; ^^and they said^ Hath the 
 Lord indeed spoken only by Moses ? hath he not spoken by us ?" The Jewish 
 history abounds in instances of female distinction. Deborah, who lived under 
 the palm tree, was judge of Israel, and sung with Barack a song of deliver- 
 
IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ance from the oppressor's power. And after the race of kings had become 
 extinct, Judith was judge in Israel for many years. In the first days of kingly 
 power, the women interfered with state matters, and came out after the death 
 of Goliah, and praised David in higher strains than ihey did their monarch, 
 directly to his face. " Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thou- 
 sands," an oriental figure to enforce their opinions of the youthful warrior's 
 superiority. 
 
 The Athenians borrowed their laws and customs from the East, but they 
 were softened and tamed by a spirit of philosophy, which was early cultivated 
 by that extraordinary people. They undertook to regulate their domestic 
 affairs by the influence of public opinion, rather than by laws ; their women 
 were allowed to go abroad, while they were advised to stay at home. 
 At Sparta, the bold doctrine of abolishing all seclusion was avowed, and 
 their physical and mental instruction was similar to that of the males. The 
 latter system was a bad one, for it took away that refinement which makes 
 up no inconsiderable portion of female influence. 
 
 The Roman women had, from the earliest days of their history, a command- 
 ing influence in the affairs of state, as well as in domestic concerns; not 
 arising, as some have supposed, from immunities granted them for the injury 
 done their Sabine mothers, but altogether from their being well educated. 
 The infant schools among the Romans were the best ever known. The 
 vernae, or nursery maids, a higher class of slaves, were well educated, par- 
 ticularly in the correct pronunciation of the Latin language, and were treated 
 by every family as favorites. The laws protected them from personal insult. 
 It was a proof of low origin to make mistakes in the pronunciation of words, 
 for it indicated that one had not been instructed by a verna. The Romans had 
 many excellent customs and laws, protecting the rights of women, probably 
 as good as any ever framed. The .Tustinian code contains many plain and 
 just laws, in regard to the persons and property of women in the marriage 
 state ; perhaps no code has ever been equal to it, if we except the code of 
 Napoleon, which was based upon it. 
 
 The next code which protected the rights of women, is to be found in the 
 Koran. This code had a religious as well as a legal authority. The angel 
 Gabriel announced, in a vision, what the favorite wives of Mahomet wished 
 to carry into effect, and to their honor, they made no unreasonable requests. 
 
 The glorious days of Arabian literature were favorable to the extension 
 and security of the rights of women. The reigns of Haroun Al Raschid and 
 Al Mamoun, were famous for the display of female genius. Princesses, and 
 women of talents partook of the enthusiasm, which was carried to the high- 
 est degree, in favor of learning. They made orations and poems, which 
 
INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 were delivered in public and received the applauses of all the students of the 
 House of Wisdom. The whole of the literature of the East is adorned by the 
 finest eulogiums in praise of women. The Arabian Nights, as well as the 
 immense number of tales and apologues, found in oriental Hterature, are 
 full of descriptions of the beauty, the influence, the wit, and the acquirements 
 of women. It may be said that these are creatures of the imagination ; grant 
 it in part, still no image will please the world that has not some prototji^e in 
 nature. If these lovely pictures went beyond nature, they had a strong 
 resemblance to that which was known. The thousand and one tales would 
 not have been ascribed to a woman, unless females had been distinguished 
 in this enchanting branch of literature. If women had not been admired 
 among the Greeks, would all those lovely creations of female divinities have 
 existed 1 The God of wisdom could not move in single sovereignty, but must 
 be assisted by nine females, through whom his inspirations were to pass. 
 Every grove, every stream, was full of these creations, and nothing was done 
 but by female influence. Modern travellers mform us, that the women of 
 Persia and Turkey are well educated at the present day, not only in tasteful 
 learning, but in the science of domestic economy; andthat even the harem 
 is a place of industry and study ; and more than one writer of our time con- 
 tends for their equality with European women. Some, who had ample 
 opportunity to witness the fact, have stated that the remaining fragments of 
 Arabian literature are now to be found among women in their lullabys, and 
 amusements for their children, the great fame of the nation having departed ; 
 as the Scandinavian literature, once the mother of European knowledge, is 
 now to be found in the books of the nursery. "Jack the Giant Killer," " Little 
 Red Riding Hood," "Old Nick, and " Seven League Boots," were once the 
 general tales of the north of Europe, their names only being changed in some 
 degree, in the several stages of their degradation. 
 
 Nor is the influence of women so small in rude and barbarous nations as 
 we imagine. The Winnebagoes, who visited the seat of government a few 
 years since, had one female among them. She could not gain the consent of 
 the nation that she might attend them, but as soon as they were gone, her 
 husband being one of the embassadors, she followed them closely, but did 
 not join them until they had travelled several hundred miles. At this distance 
 she presumed that they would not drive her home ; she reasoned correctly. 
 They, admiring the strength of her affection and her fortitude, for she came 
 near starving on the way through the vnlderness, permitted her to move on 
 with them. The men were sometimes angry, to see her loaded with presents 
 from the ladies of Washington, and other cities through which they passed ; 
 but they dared not treat her rudely. To prove that women have important 
 
 i* 
 
VI IKTRODUCTION. 
 
 offices even among savages, we have only to look at them when the men are 
 sick or inebriated ; when one of them was taken dangerously Ul, she was 
 mistress of the ceremonies, when a charm was tried for his cure. It consisted 
 in mumbling an incantation over a heap of trumpery, as multiform and sin- 
 gular, as ever was thrown into the cauldron of the weird sisters. To show 
 her cunning and her power, she forbid every one from taking any spirituous 
 liquor while the charm was operating. When any of the men was under 
 the influence of ardent spirits, she approached him, threw a blanket over his 
 face, and in an instant he was quiet and suffered himself to be tied, and cast 
 upon the floor ; and he harbored no resentment the next day towards her for 
 the deed. If they had any dispute among themselves in matters of memory, 
 she was appealed to as their historian. This certainly is female influence, if 
 the form of it is not exactly to our taste. 
 
 If women had been so degraded as some writers would have us believe, 
 would the great dramatists, those mighty masters in the knowledge of human 
 nature, have given us such pictures of females as they have 1 The ancient 
 drama is full of high and heroic female conduct. In more modern times, 
 Shakspeare has drawn many admirable female characters, such as Isabella, 
 Imogine, Portia, Queen Catharine, and others. We admire these, because 
 we have seen such in life, or those who would have acted as they did, placed 
 in the same situations. Many other dramatists might be mentioned, who have 
 given us fine, and natural female portraits. The novelists who do not draw 
 their characters from nature, have no readers who peruse their works a second 
 time. If these characters are to be found in society, they could not have been 
 formed without education, or have lived without influence. 
 
 The christian religion is said to be one for women, but it is not more benefi- 
 cial to women than to men. It is a religion of the affections, and its great com- 
 mandment is to love one another ; and this, when practised on, makes all 
 happy. The church, throughout all Christendom, in consideration of the 
 sanction our Saviour gave to marriage, made it a sacrament of their religion, 
 and made it indissoluble while the parties were living ; unless by the authority 
 of the representative of St. Peter, who had the power to bind and to loose on 
 earth, with promise of its being sanctioned in heaven. In protestant countries, 
 marriage is now considered a civil contract between individuals, but not to be 
 broken at their will; the community being a party to it, for the welfare of the 
 state. In either case women gained something from the change which this reli- 
 gion produced. But after all, the diffusion of knowledge in the world, and the 
 practise of those courtesies that grew out of intelligence and refinement, have 
 more effect on the character of women than any laws ever did, or will have. 
 The English laws, from which our own are derived, have been thought excel- 
 
INTRODUCTION. VU 
 
 lent, but, in our opinion, they stand in need of many alterations. They would be 
 thought oppressive in many instances, if they were always carried into effect. 
 In this country, many of the hard features of the common law are amelio- 
 rated by statutory provisions, and others will be, as soon as the people become 
 more enlightened. 
 
 Within a few years, much attention has been paid to female education in 
 this country. Take the whole number of females, from ten years of age up 
 to twenty, in our country, particularly in cities and villages, and we find them 
 better educated than the males of the same age ; but as yet there has not 
 been a good and sufficient system in their pursuits of knowledge, after their 
 domestic duties commence, to keep the superiority through life ; as they have 
 not the same opportunities for gaining that kind of chance information, ari- 
 sing from the intercourse with ail sorts of men in the bustle of life, as males 
 have. A good treatise for young married people, on the proper course of keep- 
 ing and increasing information, would do much service to society. A love of 
 reading does something towards this, but without a system, this reading is 
 too cursory, and has in general no classification. But with these defects in 
 their education, we have produced several distinguished female scholars and 
 writers ; if not as great a number as England, according to our census, 
 it must be remembered, that our population, with the exception of our cities, 
 is as yet sparse, and in former times, the best books, were difficult to be 
 obtained. These evils are passing away, and in a few years books of all 
 kinds will be of easy access. 
 
 Some may say that women are becoming too learned ; that they do not 
 like a learned woman ; forgetting that the more learned any one becomes, 
 the less is the affectation of knowledge, and the appearance of superiority. 
 When the air is pure, and the sun is bright, the more acute is our vision, and 
 the better our feelings; but when the air is misty and light, the more relaxed 
 our nerves, and the more liable are we to be deceived by optical illusions. So 
 in the mental world it often happens, that he who sees but little, sees wrong. 
 The information now acquired is brought down to the business of life, and so 
 many may obtain a good share of knowledge, that the superficial have but 
 little chance to deceive us. Women are often situated, so as to be Aee from 
 absorbing duties, and when any mind is idle, and there are no attempts for its 
 improvement, fashion and whim will occupy all the vacant ground. It is 
 education then, began early and continued long, that will ever give women 
 their true rank and influence in every grade of society. I contend for an 
 equality among the sexes, but it would be worse than idle to urge a similarity 
 of pursuits, as some have done. The doctrine that each should fill their proper 
 sphere, such as nature and reason teach us, is finely enforced in a paragraph 
 
>'1U IKTRODUCTlOlSr. 
 
 from the pen of Mrs. Sigourney, who stands confessedly at the head of femaJ 
 writers in our country ; and whose taste is only surpassed by her judgment, 
 and whose piety consecrates what her muse inspires. 
 
 "Man might be initiated into the varieties and mysteries of needle-work; 
 taught to have patience with the feebleness and waywardness of infancy, and 
 to steal with noiseless steps around the chamber of the sick: and the woman 
 might be instructed to contend for the palm of science ; to pour forth elo- 
 quence in senates, or to ' wade through fields of slaughter to a throne.' Yet 
 revoltings of the soul would attend this violence to nature, this abuse of 
 physical and intellectual energy ; while the beauty of social order would be 
 defaced, and the fountain of earth's felicity broke up. We arrive, then, at the 
 conclusion, that the sexes are intended for different spheres, and constructed 
 in conformity to their respective destinations, by Him who bids the oak brave 
 the fury of the tempest, and the alpine flower lean its cheek on the bosom of 
 eternal snows. But disparity does not imply inferiority. The high places of 
 the earth, with all their pomp and glory, are indeed accessable only to the 
 march of ambition, or the grasp of power ; yet those who pass with faithful 
 and unapplauded zeal through their humble round of duty, are not unnoticed 
 by the ' Great Taskmaster's eye ;' and their endowments, though accounted 
 poverty among men, may prove durable riches in the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 In the volume we now present to the public, the end and aim has been, to 
 present such characters as have been ornaments to their sex, and benefactors 
 of mankind, by a display of more than ordinary talents, or by exhibiting 
 exemplary bearing, or superior virtues, or pious acts. We have been careful 
 that no one of equivocal reputation should be found in our pages, nor will 
 they be, unless the reader should examine too closely the memoirs of queens. 
 The few of this grade we have mentioned, are only brought forward as dis- 
 playing great talents in high places, in which domestic relations are in a 
 manner forgotten. 
 
 We believe it to be a well authenticated fact in the history of man, that a 
 child is more indebted to his mother for his genius, disposition, and constitu- 
 tion, than to all others. History supports this opinion, if carefully examined; 
 and from the earliest ages, most of the great men who have come down to 
 us, substantiate the fact by their own testimony. In more modern times, like- 
 wise, distinguished individuals have been enthusiastic in praise of their 
 mothers. Francis Bacon's mother was pre-eminent in genius and learning ; 
 and in the depths of his philosophical researches, he never forgot how much 
 he was indebted to her for what he was. The beautiful and sentimental 
 verses of Cowper, upon the picture of his mother, is known to everyone who 
 opens a book, Sir William Jones attributes his learning to his mother. 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 Ciivier, who has lately gone down to the tomb with such a wonderful share 
 of fame, found in his learned and accomplished mother, his earliest and 
 best instructor. The fortunate son of a noble woman, if a victor, feels the 
 laurel grow greener and fresher on his brow, in thinking that his mother lives 
 to enjoy his fame ; but half the leaves of his crown wither, if she is gone 
 before his honors fall upon him. The author pursues his midnight labors, 
 cheered with the knowledge that there is some one who will rejoice in his 
 fame, if his mother is alive. 
 
 Every one will agree, that the purest and best of models should be presented 
 to youth who are forming their character ; still but little effort has been 
 made to select such characters, as may safely, in all things, be held up for 
 imitation. The good has too often been mingled with the bad, and thrown 
 into the market. The chaff has seldom been separated from the wheat, as it 
 should have b^en. It is true, we have the lives of saints and martyrs, and 
 those eminently pious presented to us, but these are not so proper for general 
 imitation, as those pure and good in the every day walks of life. In our 
 country, as yet, but few have been held up to the admiration and respect of 
 mankind. The growth of our country has been peculiar ; it has no parallel 
 in history. Two centuries have produced a new empire, and the purity and 
 elevation of the female character has done more towards its prosperity, than 
 the world can understand. Those only can form an opinion upon their 
 influence, who have lived for many years among all classes in our society, 
 and watched the course of discipline and education among us. 
 
 Some have objected to bringing women forward, as inconsistent with female 
 delicacy. The great writers of the old testament did not think so. They 
 have given us many models of excellence in public and private life, which 
 have been read with delight for four thousand years, and will be, as long 
 as the sun and moon shall endure. If it were not proper and just to hold 
 the worthy up to notice, would the apostles have filled their writings with 
 the names and deeds of women ; those too, not remarkable for birth, for- 
 tune, or standing in society, but those who, by their virtues and their zeal, 
 assisted to spread the truths of the gospel. Shall it be asked by our posterity, 
 when they read of the deeds of their fathers, why were not the virtues of our 
 primitive mothers put on record also 1 would the answer be satisfactory, their 
 delicacy forbade it 1 Shall all nature be examined for knowledge, every shrub 
 and flower transplanted from the wilderness to the garden, and those of the 
 sweetest perfume in the moral and intellectual world be forgotten 7 
 
 Some may ask, if it be an object of so much importance in your creed, to 
 present the females of our country to the public, why do you not fill a volume 
 with them at once, unconnected with others ? Our answer to this is, that 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 we wrote and compiled this volume to be attractive to young ladies in our 
 schools and at home ; and we believed that it would suit their tastes better, 
 and be more beneficial to them, in taking a general view of their sex, to pre- 
 sent them with characters drawn from many countries, who had lived in 
 different ages. Those who would make a large party would not wish the 
 visitors to be all family connections. It is not so much what is written at any 
 time, as what you can make others read. The beauty of family pictures are 
 not always seen until compared with others. 
 
 It must be confessed, that much of the general reading of the present time 
 among females, as well as others, has been novels. These, properly chosen, 
 may do much good ; but they should be mixed with history and other studies. 
 But that education which greatly abounds in them before the mind in enrich- 
 ed with the treasures of history and biography, and other branches of know- 
 ledge, is apt to have more wing and feather than body. The learning of the 
 females of our country has not been sufficiently masculine, if we may use 
 the expression. They have been more directed to what is called accomplish- 
 ments, than to sound knowledge. In all the elements of education, the 
 difference of sex should never be thought of. Philosophy knows no difference 
 of sexes, in her beginnings. It is only in manners that a difference should be 
 insisted upon. In manners, a female should never forget her sex; even from 
 the cradle, she should know the delicacy that is expected of a female, in the 
 first lispings of infancy. Nature assists the suggestions of education. Mind 
 has, in the early hours of life, no sex ; but sex should have its manners ; and 
 the courtesies of life will soon serve to keep the distinction. The science 
 and letters of the boudoir, may have something in them different from ihe 
 lecture room in form, but not in substance. History, biography, poetry, 
 painting, and all matters of taste, may be differently arranged, according, if 
 you please, to a sexual discrimination ; but, if this is done naturally, there can 
 be no great difference after all. Well educated women have always an oppor- 
 tunity, greater or less, to add some ornaments of botany, conchology, natural 
 history, painting, and poetry. When we name poetry, we do not mean that 
 every female should write poetry against inchnation or taste ; but we do 
 distinctly mean, that a part of every woman's education, should be an 
 acquaintance with the laws of rhyme, and rhythm. A little attention to the 
 principles and rules of rhetoric and poetry would soon teach them this ; but 
 if it is neglected at school, it is seldom acquired afterwards. Two days atten- 
 tion to these rules would be sufficient, with a htile practice in scanning, to 
 give a young lady a knowledge of the " measure of verse." We have known 
 women much more learned than men, who always thought themselves inferior 
 to these men, because the men had attended to a few technicaUties, and rules 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 of different sciences, which the females had neglected. Forms seldom make 
 any part of a female's knowledge ; she reasons often admirably without thmk- 
 ing of a logical rule. If females, to use a legislative phrase, would learn a few 
 of the rules and orders of presenting a subject to the understanding, they would 
 find their account in it. Miss Edgeworth and Hannah More, were wise 
 enough in early life, to study the technicahties of logic, as well as the best 
 mode of reasoning. They have found an advantage in this. When feeble or 
 ill natured men criticise the works of women, their first charge is, their want 
 of the knowledge of the rules of dialectic philosophy. By understanding 
 these rules. Miss Hannah More has enlightened prelates, and written models 
 for young divines to form their sermons upon. Her character of Saint Paul 
 is not only an admirable piece of biography, with connections and depend- 
 ences, but every trait is thiuwn into the picture, with a skill that would do 
 honor to a master painter. There have been those who saw as clearly, felt 
 as strongly, and perhaps had more genius than Hannah More, who have 
 been surpassed by her, from the skill with which she managed her subject : 
 and this skill probably arose from her having been obliged to learn those rules 
 that she might be able to teach them to others, in her school. This skill is 
 seen in the writings of Mrs. Barbauld, for she, too, had to instruct others. 
 But they are not well regarded by Shakspearian Bailie ; she studied the bard 
 of Avon more than the rules of Quintilian or Lilly. The Newtonian Somer- 
 ville found her rules in her subject. The females of our country hardly know 
 that one of their sex, Mrs. Somerville, has written the "Mechanism of the 
 Heavens," so deeply, so clearly, so happily, that the sage reviewers, in works 
 of standard authority, have lavished more praise on the extraordinary talents, 
 displayed in her work on astronomy, than has ever been given in modern 
 times to any but Newton, La Place, and Bowditch. The style of this rare 
 woman is as lovely as the light that shone upon her mind, as she traversed 
 the zodiac, and measured the parallaxes of the stars. She not only trod the 
 impalpable and paMess heavens, but on her journey, saw the God who made 
 them, as she contemplated his works. 
 
 The females of this age are, indeed, thrice blessed in their advantages for 
 gaining information, and they do credit to their opportunities. After the 
 adoption of the federal constitution, when the country began to feel the pros- 
 perity that followed that glorious event, many judicious parents became fully 
 sensible, that the schools for female education were not sufficient in number 
 and respectabiUty, to answer the wishes and expectations of the people. 
 Academies were soon incorporated and endowed, for the purpose of advan- 
 cing female education, united with the intention of giving males a better 
 opportunity of getting information, than the common schools could furnish. 
 
XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 These establishments flourished very well, for a while, but the existence of 
 most of them was ephemeral. The education obtained at these institutions 
 was in general superficial, arising from numerous causes. The pupils had 
 not sufficient time allowed them to become learned ; they grasped every thing 
 at once, and of course, learned nothing well. A term or two, was thought 
 sufficient for any one to gain great stores of knowledge at these seminaries. 
 They skimmed the surface, essayed to catch the ornamental, and disregarded, 
 or had not time to attend to the solid. After a few years trial, most of these 
 institutions went down. There was too much expected of them. One or 
 two teachers only were engaged to instruct, in all branches ; one from plain 
 sewing to embroidery, and one only from chirography to the elements of 
 Euclid; and not much in each branch could be expected of them. 
 
 In the new schools which were formed, a better division of labor was made, 
 and they went on better than before. Still there were many evils existing, 
 which yielded, one after another, to experience, and to a more liberal patron- 
 age. Better systems were devised, and these were daily improved upon, until 
 we now have many female schools, that are not behind the spirit of the age 
 in general improvement. 
 
 A taste for reading and judging of character is as much acquired, as a 
 taste for examining and criticising the pictures of the great artists. Biography 
 should hold a place between geography and history, and should be studied as 
 systematically as either. When countries are known by boundaries, those 
 who lived and acted in them, individually should, if distinguished be known 
 before history takes up the doings of the nation. 
 
 The world is busy in raising the standard of science and letters and we 
 are not behind the best of them. Women are sharing with men all the 
 advantages of primary, secondary, and high schools. The sage lecturer finds 
 his room crowded with females, anxious to know what he has to teach. Al 
 that is taught in these schools, is brought to the social circle, whether moral, 
 literary, or scientific. Education throws a charm over every hour of life, 
 enters all its duties, pleasures, and hopes, from the cradle to the grave. 
 
 The world is one great school, and every one, well grounded in elementary 
 knowledge, is learning some valuable lesson every day. Being well versed 
 in geography, biography, and history, all things seem to come into one vast 
 panorama, and the mind darts a glance over it at will, and selects passages 
 of deep interest for contemplation. 
 
 Editor. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Hannah Adams, a name identifed with American literature, 
 was born at Medfield, eighteen miles from Boston, in the year 
 1755. Her father was the son of a wealthy yeoman who had 
 an extensive farm, and gave his only child a good early edu- 
 cation, extending so far as the preparing him in the lan- 
 guages, and other branches of knowledge, to enter college : but 
 suddenly he called his boy home to make him a farmer, for 
 which it seems he could have been but indifferently qualified. 
 In addition to his agricultural pursuits, her father opened a 
 country store, and among other varieties sold books, to which he 
 was more attached than to corn-bins and hay-stacks. He was 
 married early and had several children. The subject of this 
 memoir was his second daughter. Miss Hannah Adams always 
 represented her mother as an excellent woman, but one who was 
 very indulgent to her daughter, and made her a pet child ; for 
 she was an invalid from her cradle. At the age of ten years, 
 Miss Adams lost this excellent parent, just at the time she most 
 wanted her kind and careful attentions. There were no good 
 schools in the neighbourhood at that time ; but such as they were, 
 it does not appear that she ever tried them, learning to read and 
 write at home. She was a most inveterate devourer of all books 
 that came in her way, probably without any particular discrimi- 
 nation; sermons, controversial divinity, novels, history, tales of 
 conversions, of Indian wars, and all that mass of strange med- 
 leys, which at that period of our literature, and long since, floated 
 through a country village. Such was her desire for knowledge, 
 that sisterly affection, and parental authority, were often exerted 
 to tear her from her books. Many of the best English authors 
 
 had at this time been printed in Boston ; and she committed to 
 
 2 
 
14 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 memory nearly the whole of Milton, Young-, Pope, Thomson, 
 Armstrong, and others of this school. Shakspeare had not 
 then come into vogue, being read then only by a few : but the 
 instant she had possession of the work, it riveted her attention, 
 notwithstanding, on this side of the water, the merits of the great 
 child of nature had not been generally known or acknowledged. 
 She, at this time, studied every work on history and geography 
 she could reach, and became a wonderful proficient in these 
 branches of learning. 
 
 While engaged in these wanderings, in the general fields of 
 literature, her father failed. It was in those evil times which 
 preceded the revolution, and the family was thrown from abun- 
 dance, if not from wealth, to penury and want. This was a sad 
 reverse for Miss Adams, for in her studious reveries, she had 
 never thought of the necessity of doing any thing in the way of 
 earning a living, nor was she bred to the knowledge of house- 
 hold duties. Miss Adams was not then known out of a small 
 reading party ; and in fact, there was no literary public at that 
 day for her to rest upon, and from whom to expect succor. 
 Her sister, a less literary woman than herself, knew more of 
 human nature, and made a better guide for her than often falls 
 to the lot of helpless females ; she advised with her in all things. 
 At this time her father took into his house some boarders, who had 
 received a classical education ; they were either pursuing some 
 profession, or had just entered into some one. From these she 
 learned Latin and Greek ; and as she always pursued matters 
 thoroughly, she made herself a good scholar in these branches 
 of knowledge. But at that period there seemed to be no oppor- 
 tunity for her to exercise her talents, 'or display her acquirements. 
 There was not a female academy in the thirteen states. At this 
 time she acknowledges that she had no strength of constitution, 
 or firmness of purpose. During the revolutionary war she 
 learned to make lace with cushion and bobbins, and for several 
 years this Avas a lucrative female employment. This manufac- 
 tory had been in use in old Ipswich, in that commonwealth, ever 
 since the first settlement of the country. The first settlers brought 
 th^ cushion and bobbin with them from England, and many a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 15 
 
 good old dame who had no other, was comfortable by this profes- 
 sion. The art had been brought with them from Ipswich, in the 
 mother country, and the taste for the consumption of the arti- 
 cle also. The show of lace generally increased with years of 
 single blessedness. The importation of lace was nearly cut off, 
 and the home-made was used, to a very considerable extent, du- 
 ring the eight years of war. When the peace took place, this 
 business was in a measure destroyed, and she was out of em- 
 ployment again. She could not keep a country school ; her 
 nerves would not permit it. She now undertook, and with great 
 success, to prepare a few young gentlemen for college; and 
 when they repaired to Cambridge for examination, they were 
 found to be most admirably fitted to enter the institution. This 
 was a novelty, and gave her great fame thoughout the country, 
 but little pecuniary profit. At this period she accidentally fell 
 upon Broughton's dictionary of religious sects, and reading this 
 work with avidity and pleasure, she began to make remarks 
 upon it. The history of the different sects in religion took entire 
 possession of her mind, and she pushed her inquiries into the 
 wide field of fact and speculation with unrestrained ardor. She 
 read of creeds until her mind grew weary of conjecturing which 
 was right ; and she pondered upon what she read until she knew 
 not what to believe : but she was determined to give her lucubra- 
 tions to the public. She had so exhausted her mind, in making 
 this effort, that she had a severe fit of sickness ; and the benevo- 
 lent Dr. Mann, then at Wrentham, came to her relief, and she was 
 saved from the grave. There is no subject that falls to the lot of 
 man to discuss, that so much disturbs the mind as the contempla- 
 tion of numerous religious creeds. Happy is he who has some 
 guide and settled opinions, and is not left on the sea of uncer- 
 tainty in forming his own opmions on religious subjects. With 
 a purity of mind, and an honesty of purpose, seldom, if ever 
 equalled, Miss Adams was lost in doubt, until her corporeal 
 frame sunk under it, and her mental powers were near following. 
 But she was determined to publish, at all hazards ; and she 
 was not the first parent who cherished her offspring at the 
 risk of her own life. Her first edition gave her nothing but 
 
16 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 fame. The booksellers of that day thought they did well not to 
 involve the author in expense. This edition went off well ; so 
 well, that the publisher wrote to her that he was about giving a 
 second to the public. This liberty she peremptorily denied him, 
 and made arrangments herself to bring out a second edition. 
 For this purpose she went to Boston, and consulted with Dr. 
 Freeman, a fine scholar, and also one of the most benevolent of 
 men. He made an advantageous bargain for her, as literary 
 labors were then estimated, but what would be considered a pal- 
 try sum at the present day, among the best publishers in any 
 city of the Union. Her next publication was the history of 
 New England. At this time there were but few standard works 
 on the history of any part of New England, except Massachu- 
 setts ; and she was too honest to take any thing on any single 
 authority. She went back to primitive authorities, and of course 
 found it a laborious task to finish her book. She began to 
 abridge this work for schools, but was forestalled by a book maker : 
 but the dispute has been settled in her favor, and nothing more 
 need be said on the subject. The course then pursued among 
 writers was more honorable than it has been in later times, when 
 men, considered as honest, and men high in public favor, have 
 not hesitated to retard others, that they might figure in, and reap 
 the harvest of glory or profit. The diseases of envy and ava- 
 rice infest literary as well as other men. 
 
 The next work of Miss Adams was a review of the Christian 
 religion. This is a most satisfactory and candid work : one can- 
 not read it Avithout acknowledging that it is the work of a capa- 
 cious and an enlightened mind. In the abridgment of her his- 
 tory of New England, one misfortune did not come alone. The 
 publisher of the first edition failed, and she lost the whole. 
 Another was tried, and she was equally unfortunate with him. 
 She was depressed, but not discouraged; and kept on with her 
 pen, although nothing of a permanent advantage had yet accrued 
 from all her labors, excepting an extensive fame. 
 
 Her next work was on the history of the Jews. She was read 
 deeply on this subject, and was fired with enthusiasm in the 
 cause of this long persecuted people. The scripture history of 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 17 
 
 the Jews was known to all her friends, for they were born in 
 New England, and had read the bible attentively ; but what had 
 become of them since the New Testament was written, the people 
 did not know, and did not much care, until she excited an inter- 
 est in their favor. She pursued the subject with the same enthu- 
 siasm she had other subjects, and was almost identified with the 
 sisters of Israel, although a good Christian herself This is a 
 subject of deep interest, considered in a historical or religious 
 view ; and comes in most forcibly to prove the Christian dispen- 
 sation. This book sold well; but some of her subscribers 
 wished the Jews in the Red Sea, with the host of Pharaoh, when 
 they took it for her sake alone. But those who took pains to 
 read the work were delighted with it, for the research, the candor, 
 the piety, and the good judgment, shown in the volume. Other 
 works, since that time, have been written upon the subject, and 
 all go to prove the value of hers. 
 
 By this time her fame had extended to Europe ; and she had 
 many valuable correspondents, among whom was the celebrated 
 Abbe Gregoire, who had struggled hard in France for the eman- 
 cipation of the Jews from the disabilities under which they had for 
 ages labored. The Abbe, with all his eccentricities, had the 
 heart of a philanthropist. He sent Miss Adams several works 
 on the Jews, which she acknowledged were of great service to 
 her in writing the work she was engaged upon. The learned 
 men of this country assisted her, whenever she gave them an 
 opportunity, which she always cheerfully acknowledged. Among 
 others, that sweet minstrel of Israel, the Reverend Joseph Ste- 
 vens Buckminster. He cheered: her in her path, threw no 
 doubts in her way, and whenever she grew weary, or desponded, 
 like a good friend, he raised her spirits to new exertions. The 
 literati of her neighborhood were always on the watch to assist 
 her ; and she was not ungrateful for their kindnesses. 
 
 While she was under the most fearful apprehensions for the 
 future, when her literary enterprises were in their most disas- 
 trous state, from the failure of booksellers and other causes, three 
 distinguished lovers of letters, and true philanthropists, Stephen 
 Higginson, Josiah Gluincy, and William S. Shaw, set about 
 
 2* 
 
18 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 devising ways and means to secure Miss Adams a competent 
 annuity for life. This was effected without any public appeal 
 to the generosity of the patrons of literature, but was arranged 
 so privately, that neither Miss Adams nor those about her knew 
 of it until all was settled and the first quarter's rent paid in 
 advance. This was truly a noble act, and reflects high honor 
 on the character of the Bostonians. Miss Adams was not a 
 woman of the highest order of genius; but modesty, sound sense, 
 and extensive learning, were eminently hers. She had no pre- 
 judices to overcome, no vices to correct, and no party feelings to 
 restrain. She was ill constructed for bearing the evils of exist- 
 ence ; easily disheartened, and wanted the soothings of those of 
 influence to keep her quiet. The writer does not remember that 
 her works were ever severely criticised by any reviewer, in 
 England or the United States ; but most assuredly, many good 
 things have been said of her writings, in both countries. 
 
 In the last twenty years of her life, Miss Adams was a fortu- 
 nate woman. There was a large circle of elderly ladies, Mrs, 
 Codman, Shaw, Dowse, Bussy, and in fact, many others, Avho 
 gave her general invitations to their houses, and she was inti- 
 mate with them at all times ; and it was at their tables that she 
 formed many of her acquaintances which she valued. Many of 
 them were eager to become subscribers for her works, as they 
 were announced. In looking over her productions, we see a 
 most extraordinary spirit of candor, breathing in every sentence 
 that she wrote. She gave us a good history of New England 
 for schools, and for the young reader, as it is so honest, and 
 shows so much industry, and it is not wanting in philosophical 
 remark. She lived long among those friends, and they did not 
 grow tired of her as she grew old, as is often the case, but petted 
 her as much when she groped her way, half blind, to their doors, 
 as they did when she was commencing her career in Boston. 
 
 Miss Adams died on the fifteenth of November, 1832, of gene- 
 ral decay, aged seventy-six. The public feeling, which had sup- 
 ported her for so many years, did not desert her in death. The 
 tasteful part of that vicinity had previously purchased a most 
 romantic spot, not far from the university of Cambridge, for a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 19 
 
 classical burying ground and garden, and it was nearly in readi- 
 ness to receive the dead, when she wanted a grave. By one of 
 those felicitous thoughts, which always attend the sentimental 
 and tasteful, it was decreed that she should be the first buried at 
 Mount Auburn, and that a plain and simple monument should 
 be erected on the spot where her ashes should repose. She was 
 buried there, and the monument has been erected on the conse- 
 crated ground. 
 
 The honor of such a burial will do more to perpetuate the 
 fame of Miss Adams, than the erection of the most splendid 
 mausoleum that science and taste could devise, or weahh com- 
 plete. But little had been done to honor the mighty dead of 
 our country, in the way of monuments or epitaphs. At Wash- 
 ington and at New Haven, some taste had been displayed, and 
 some feeling evinced ; but it was left for the good people of 
 Boston to reach a near approximation of that beau ideal of the 
 resting place of the dead, which every one of sentiment has had 
 a thousand times on hits? mind, when he contemplated the sub- 
 ject of his own dissolution. An association of gentlemen, whose 
 taste had often revolted at the indifference shown to the ashes of 
 departed friends, fixed upon a plan, and purchased an extensive 
 tract of land for a cemetery. The description they have given 
 of it is as follows : 
 
 " The tract of land, which has received the name of Mount 
 Auburn, is situated on the southerly side of the main road lead- 
 ing from Cambridge to Watertown, and is partly within the limits 
 of each of those towns. Its distance from Boston is about four 
 miles. The place was formerly known by the name of Stone's 
 Woods, the title to mo.st of the land having remained in the family 
 of Stone, from an early period after the settlement of the coun- 
 try. Within a few years, the hill and part of the woodland were 
 offered for sale, and were purchased by George W. Brimmer, 
 Esq., whose object was to prevent the destruction of the trees, 
 and to preserve so beautiful a spot for some public or appropri- 
 ate use. The purchase, which has now been made by the Hor- 
 ticultural Society, includes between seventy and eighty acres, 
 extending from the road nearly to the banks of Charles river. 
 
20 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 A portion of the lane situated next to the road, and now under 
 cultivation, is intended to constitute the Eperimental Garden of 
 the Horticultural Society. A long water course, extending be- 
 tween this tract and the interior woodland, forms a natural bound- 
 ary, separating the two sections. The inner portion, which is set 
 apart for the purpose of a cemetery, is covered throughout most 
 of its extent with a vigorous growth of forest trees, many of them 
 of large size, and comprising an unusual variety of kinds. This 
 tract is beautifully undulating in its surface, containing a number 
 of bold eminences, steep acclivities, and deep shadowy vallies. A 
 remarkable natural ridge, with a level surface, runs through the 
 ground from southeast to northwest, and has for many years been 
 known as a secluded and favorite walk. The principal emi- 
 nence, called Mount Auburn in the plan, is one hundred and 
 twenty-five feet above the level of Charles river, and commands 
 from its summit one of the finest prospects which can be obtained 
 in the environs of Boston. On one side is the city in full view, 
 connected at its extremities with Charle^on and Roxbury. The 
 serpentine course of Charles river, with the cultivated hills and 
 fields rising beyond it, and having the Blue Hills of Milton in 
 the distance, occupies another portion of the landscape. The 
 village of Cambridge, with the venerable edifices of Harvard 
 University, are situated about a mile to the eastward. On the 
 north, at a very small distance. Fresh Pond appears, a handsome 
 sheet of Avater, finely diversified by its woody and irregular 
 shores. Country seats and cottages, seen in various directions, 
 and especially those on the elevated land at Watertown, add much 
 to the picturesque efiect of the scene. It is proposed to erect, on 
 the summit of Mount Auburn, a tower, after some classic model, 
 of sufiicient height to rise above the tops of the surrounding trees. 
 This will serve the double purpose of a landmark to identify the 
 spot from a distance, and of an observatory, commanding an 
 uninterrupted view of the country around it. From the foot of 
 this monument will be seen in detail the features of the land- 
 scape, as they are successively presented through the different 
 vistas which have been opened among the trees ; while from 
 its summit, a magnificent and unbroken panorama, embracmg 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 21 
 
 one of the most delightful tracts in New England, will he spread 
 out beneath the eye. Not only the contiguous country, hut the 
 harbor and bay of Boston, with their ships and islands, and, in 
 a clear atmosphere, the distant mountains of Wachusett, and 
 probably even of Monadnock, will be comprehended within the 
 range of vision. 
 
 " The grounds of the cemetery have been laid out with inter- 
 secting avenues, so as to render every part of the wood acces- 
 sible. These avenues are curved, and variously winding in 
 their course, so as to be adapted to the natural inequalities of the 
 surface. By this arrangement the greatest economy of the land 
 is produced, combining at the same time the picturesque effect of 
 landscape gardening. Over the more level portions, the avenues 
 are made twenty feet wide, and are suitable for carriage roads. 
 The more broken and precipitous parts are approached by foot 
 paths, which are six feet in width. These passage-ways are to 
 be smoothly gravelled, and planted on both sides with flowers 
 and ornamental shrubs. Lots of ground, containing each three 
 hundred square feet, are set ofl* as family burial places, at suit- 
 able distances, on the sides of the avenues and paths. The per- 
 petual right of inclosing, and of using these lots as places of 
 sepulture, is conveyed to the purchasers of them by the Horti- 
 cultural Society. It is confidently expected that many of the 
 proprietors will, without delay, proceed to erect upon their lots 
 such monuments and appropriate structures as will give to the 
 place a part of the solemnity and beauty which it is destined ulti- 
 mately to acquire. 
 
 " It has been voted to procure, or construct, a receiving tomb 
 in Boston, and another at Mount Auburn, at which, if desired, 
 funerals may terminate, and in which the remains of the 
 deceased may be deposited, until such times as the friends shall 
 choose to direct their removal to the cemetery ; this period, how- 
 ever, not to exceed six months. 
 
 •' The principal entrance to Mount Auburn will be through a 
 lofty Egyptian gate-way, which it is proposed to erect on the 
 main road, at the commencement of the central avenue. Another 
 entrance or gateway is provided on the cross road, at the eastern 
 
22 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 foot of the hill. Whenever the funds of the corporation shall 
 justify the expense, it is proposed that a small Grecian or Gothic 
 temple shall be erected on a conspicuous eastern eminence, 
 which, in reference to this allotment, has received the prospective 
 name of Temple Hill. 
 
 *' The recent purchase and disposition of the grounds at 
 Mount Auburn has effected the consummation of the two designs, 
 which, for a considerable time, have been cherished by nume- 
 rous members of the community, in the city of Boston and its 
 vicinity. One of these is the institution of a garden for the pro- 
 motion of scientific horticulture; the other, the establishment, 
 in the environs of the city, of a retired and ornamented place of 
 sepulture." 
 
 This city of the dead was consecrated by religious ceremo 
 nies, and by an oration from one who had often embalmed depart 
 ed virtue and greatness by eloquence and song. We have heard 
 him breathe a deep lament " over the ocean warrior, festering 
 in his shroud," have listened to his analysis of the mental pow- 
 ers of the greatest jurist of the age; and was there too, when he 
 paid a just tribute to the fame of a profound statesman and orator. 
 To Lawrence, Parsons, and Dexter, Story has erected monu- 
 ments of more enduring materials than marble or brass, on the 
 pages of his country's history. On this last occasion, buried 
 ages passed before him ; and as he assisted in consecrating the 
 ground, and in indulging in an almost Egyptian solicitude for the 
 mortal remains of kindred and friends, \isions of the Christian's 
 hopes and glory burst upon him, and the victory was taken from 
 the grave, and the sting from death. The following is an 
 extract from Judge Story's address. 
 
 "My Friends. — The occasion which brings us together has 
 much in it calculated to awaken our sensibilities, and cast a 
 solemnity over our thoughts. 
 
 " We are met to consecrate these grounds exclusively to the 
 service and repose of the dead. 
 
 " The duty is not new ; for it has been performed for countless 
 millions. The scenery is not new; for the hill and the valley, the 
 still silent dell, and the deep forest, have often been devoted to the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 23 
 
 same pious purpose. But that which must always give it a 
 peculiar interest is, that it can rarely occur except at distant 
 intervals; and, whenever it does, it must address itself to feel- 
 ings intelligible to all nations, and common to all hearts. 
 
 " The patriarchal language of four thousand years ago is 
 precisely that to which we would now give utterance. We are 
 'strangers and sojourners' here. We have need of 'a posses- 
 sion of a burying place, that we may bury our dead out of our 
 sight.' Let us have 'the field, and the cave which is therein; 
 and all the trees that are in the field, and that are in the borders 
 round about;' and let them 'be made sure for a possession of a 
 burying place.' 
 
 " It is the duty of the living thus to provide for the dead. It 
 is not a mere office of pious regard for others ; but it comes home 
 to our own bosoms, as those who are soon to enter upon the com- 
 mon inheritance. 
 
 " If there are any feelings of our nature not bounded by earth, 
 and yet stopping short of the skies, which are more strong and 
 more universal than all others, they will be found in our solici- 
 tude as to the time, and place, and manner of our death ; in the 
 desire to die in the arms of our friends ; to have the last sad 
 offices to our remains performed by their affection ; to repose in 
 the land of our nativity ; to be gathered to the sepulchres of our 
 fathers. It is almost impossible for us to feel, nay, even to feign, 
 indifierence on such a subject. 
 
 " Poetry has told us this truth in lines of transcendant beauty 
 and force, which find a response in every breast : 
 
 'For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey. 
 This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, 
 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 
 Nor cast one longing, hngering look behind 7 
 
 ' On some fond breast the parting soul relies ; 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
 E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries; 
 E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
 " It is in vain that philosophy has informed us, that the whole 
 earth is but a point in the eyes of its Creator, nay, of his own 
 
24 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 creation ; that wherever we are, abroad or at home, on the rest- 
 less ocean, or the solid land, we are still under the protection of 
 his providence and safety, as it were, in the hollow of his hand. 
 It is in vain that religion has instructed us that we are but dust, 
 and to dust we shall return ; that whether our remains are scat- 
 tered to the corners of the earth, or gathered in sacred urns, 
 there is a sure and certain hope of a resurrection of the body, 
 and a life everlasting. These truths, sublime and glorious as 
 they are, leave untouched the feelings of which I have spoken, 
 or rather they impart to them a more enduring reality. Dust as 
 we are, the frail tenements which enclose our spirits but for a 
 season, are dear, are inexpressibly dear to us. We derive solace, 
 nay, pleasure, from the reflection, that when the hour of separa- 
 tion comes, these earthly remains will still retain the tender regard 
 of those whom we leave behind ; that the spot where they shall 
 lie will be remembered with a fond and soothing reverence ; that 
 our children will visit it in the midst of their sorrows ; and our 
 kindred in remote generations feel that a local inspiration hovers 
 around it. 
 
 " Let him speak who has been on a pilgrimage of health to a 
 foreign land. Let him speak, who has watched at the couch of 
 a dying friend, far from his chosen home. Let him speak, who 
 has committed to the bosom of the deep, with a sudden, startling 
 plunge, the narrow shroud of some relative or companion. Let 
 such speak, and they will tell you, that there is nothing which 
 wrings the heart of the dying, aye, and of the surviving, with 
 sharper agony than the thought that they are to sleep their last 
 sleep in the land of strangers, or in the unseen depths of the ocean. 
 
 " 'Bury me not, I pray thee,' said the patriarch Jacob, 'bury 
 me not in Egypt : but I will lie with my fathers. And thou 
 shalt carry me out of Egypt ; and bury me in their burying- 
 place.' — ' There they buried Abraham, and Sarah, his wife ; 
 there they buried Isaac, and Rebecca, his wife; and there I 
 buried Leah.' 
 
 " Such are the natural expressions of human feeling, as they 
 fall from the lips of the dying. Such are the reminiscences 
 that for ever crowd on the confines of the passes to the grave 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 25 
 
 We seek again to have our home there, with our friends, and to 
 be blesse-d by a communion with them. It is a matter of instinct, 
 not of reasoning. It is a spiritual impulse, which supercedes 
 belief, and disdains question. 
 
 " But it is not chiefly in regard to the feelings belonging to 
 our own mortality, however sacred and natural, that we should 
 contemplate the establishment of repositories of this sort. There 
 are higher moral purposes, and more affecting considerations, 
 which belong to the subject. We should accustom ourselves tc 
 view them rather as means than as ends; rather as influences to 
 govern human conduct, and to moderate human suffering, than 
 as cares incident to a selfish foresight. 
 
 " It is to the living mourner ; to the parent, weeping over his 
 dear dead child ; to the husband, dwelling in his own solitary 
 desolation; to the widow, whose heart is broken by untimely 
 sorrow ; to the friend, who misses at every turn the presence of 
 some kindred spirit; it is to these, that the repositories of the 
 dead bring home thoughts full of admonition, of instruction, and 
 slowly, but surely, of consolation also. They admonish us, by 
 their very silence, of our own frail and transitory being, They 
 instruct us in the true value of life, and in its noble purposes, its 
 duties, and its destination. They spread around us, in the remi- 
 niscences of the past, sources of pleasing, though melancholy 
 reflection. 
 
 "We dwell with pious fondness on the characters and virtues 
 of the departed ; and, as time interposes its growing distances 
 between us and them, we gather up, with more solicitude, the 
 broken fragments of memory, and weave, as it were, jnto our 
 very hearts, the threads of their history. As we sit down by 
 their graves, we seem to hear the tones of their affection whis- 
 pering in our ears. We listen to the voice of their wisdom,, 
 speaking in the depths of our souls. We shed our tears ; but 
 they are no longer the burning tears of agony. They relieve 
 our drooping spirits, and come no longer over us with a deathly 
 faintness. We return to the world, and we feel ourselves purer, 
 and better, and wiser, from this communion with the dead. 
 
 "I have spoken but of feelings and associations common ta 
 
 3 
 
26 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 all ages, and all generations of men; to the rude and the 
 polished — to the barbarian and the civilized — to the bond and 
 the free — to the inhabitant of the dreary forests of the north, 
 and the sultry regions of the south-^to the worshipper of the 
 sun, and the worshipper of idols — to the heathen, dwelling in 
 the darkness of his cold mythology, and to the Christian, rejoicing 
 m the light of the true God. Every where we trace them in the 
 characteristic remains of the most distant ages and nations, and as 
 far back as human history carries its traditionary outlines. They 
 are found in the barrows, and cairns, and mounds of olden times, 
 reared by the uninstructed aflection of savage tribes; and, every 
 where, the spots seem to have been selected with the same ten- 
 der regard to the living and the dead; that the magnificence of 
 nature might administer comfort to human sorroAV, and incite 
 human sympathy. 
 
 " The aboriginal Germans buried their dead in groves conse- 
 crated by their priests. The Egyptians gratified their pride and 
 soothed their grief, by interring them in their Elysian fields, or 
 embalming them in their vast catacombs, or inclosing them in 
 their stupendous pyramids, the wonder of all succeeding ages. 
 The Hebrews watched with religious care over their places of 
 burial. They selected for this purpose ornamented gardens, 
 and deep forests, and fertile valleys, and lofty mountains; and 
 they still designate them with a sad emphasis, as the ' house of 
 the living-' The ancient Asiatics lined the approaches to their 
 cities with sculptured sarcophagi, and mausoleums, and other 
 ornaments embowered in shrubbery, traces of which may be seen 
 among their magnificent ruins. The Greeks exhausted the 
 resources of their exquisite art in adorning the habitations of the 
 dead. They discouraged interments within the limits of their 
 cities ; and consigned their relics to the shady groves, in the 
 neighborhood of murmuring streams and mossy fountains, close 
 by the favorite resorts of those who were engaged in the study of 
 philosophy and nature, and called them with the elegant express- 
 iveness of their own beautiful language, Cemeteries,* ot 
 
 * %ot/ur£f.j(?— literally, places of sleep. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 27 
 
 •places of repose.' The Romans, faithful to the example of 
 Greece, erected the monuments to the dead in the suburbs of the 
 eternal city, (as they proudly denominated it,) on the sides of 
 their spacious roads, in the midst of trees and ornamental walks 
 and ever-varying flowers. The Appian way was crowded with 
 columns, and obelisks, and cenotaphs, to the memory of her 
 heroes and sages; and at every turn, the short but touching 
 inscription met the eye, — Siste, Viator, — Pause, Traveller — invi- 
 ting at once to sympathy and thoughtfulness. Even the humblest 
 Roman could read on the humblest grave-stone the kind offer- 
 ing, ' May the earth lie lightly on these remains!'* And the 
 Moslem successors of the emperors, indifferent as they may be 
 to the ordinary exhibitions of the fine arts, place their burying- 
 grounds in rural retreats, and embellish them with studious taste, 
 as a religious duty. The cypress is planted at the head and foot 
 of every grave, and waves with a mournful solemnity over it. 
 These devoted grounds possess an inviolable sanctity. The 
 ravages of war never reach them ; and victory and defeat equally 
 respect the limits of their domain. So that it has been remarked 
 with equal truth and beauty, that while the cities of the living 
 are subject to all the desolations and vicissitudes incident to 
 human affairs, the cities of the dead enjoy an undisturbed repose, 
 without even the shadow of change. 
 
 " But I will not dwell upon facts of this nature. They de- 
 monstrate, however, the truth of which I have spoken. They 
 do more ; they furnish reflections suitable for our ovm thoughts 
 on the present occasion. 
 
 " If this tender regard for the dead be so absolutely universal, 
 and so deeply founded in human affection, why is it not made to 
 exert a more profound influence on our lives ? Why do we not 
 enlist it with more persuasive energy in the cause of human 
 improvement ? Why do we not enlarge it as a source of religious 
 consolation ? Why do we not make it a more efficient instrument 
 to elevate ambition, to stimulate genius, and to dignify learning ? 
 Why do we not connect it indissolubly Avith associations which 
 
 • " Sit libi terra levia." 
 
28 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 charm us in nature and engross us in art ? Why do we not dis- 
 pel from it that unlovely gloom, from which our hearts turn, as 
 from a darkness that ensnares, and a horror that appals our 
 thoughts ? 
 
 " To many, nay, to most of the heathen, the burying-place was 
 the end of all things. They indulged no hope, at least, no solid 
 hope, of any future intercourse, or re-union with their friends. 
 The farewell at the grave was a long and everlasting farewell. 
 At the moment when they breathed it, it brought to their hearts 
 a startling sense of their own wretchedness. Yet, when the 
 first tumults of anguish were passed, they visited the spot and 
 strewed flowers, and garlands, and crowns, around it, to assuage 
 their grief, and nourish their piety. They delighted to make it 
 the abode of the varying beauties of nature ; to give it attractions 
 which should invite the busy and the thoughtful ; and yet, at the 
 same time, afford ample scope for the secret indulgence of sorrow. 
 
 "Why should not Christians imitate such examples? They 
 have far nobler motives to cultivate moral sentiments and sensi- 
 bilities ; to make cheerful the path-ways to the grave ; to combine 
 with deep meditations on human mortality, the sublime consola- 
 tions of religion. We know, indeed, as they did of old, that 
 ' man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the 
 streets.' But that home is not an everlasting home; and the 
 mourners may not weep as those who are without hope. What 
 is the grave to us but a thin barrier, dividing time from eter- 
 nity, and earth from heaven? What is it but 'the appointed 
 place of rendezvous, where all the travellers on life's journey 
 meet' for a single night of repose — 
 
 ' Tis but a night— a long and moonless night. 
 We make the grave our bed, and then are gone.' 
 
 " Know we not 
 
 — ' The time draws on 
 
 When not a single spot of burial earth, 
 Whether on land, or m the spacious sea, 
 But must give up its long committed dust 
 Inviolate? 
 
 *• Why then should we darken with systematic caution all the 
 
F£MAL£ BIOGRAPHY. 29 
 
 avenues to these repositories? Why should we deposit the 
 remains of our friends in loathsome vaults, or beneath the gloomy 
 crypts and cells of our churches, where the human foot is never 
 heard, save when the sickly taper lights some new guest to his 
 appointed apartment, and 'lets fall a supernumerary horror' on the 
 passing procession? Why should we measure out a narrow 
 portion of earth for our grave-yards in the midst of our cities, 
 and heap the dead upon each other with a cold, calculating par- 
 simony, disturbing their ashes, and wounding the sensibilities 
 of the living ? Why should we expose our burying grounds to 
 the broad glare of day, to the unfeeling gaze of the idler, to the 
 noisy press of business, to the discordant shouts of merriment, 
 or to the baleful visitations of the dissolute? Why should we 
 bar up their approaches against real mourners, whose delicacy 
 would shrink from observation, but whose tenderness would be 
 soothed by secret visits to the grave, and holding converse there 
 with their departed joys ? Why all this unnatural restraint upon 
 our sympathies and sorrows, which confines the visit to the grave 
 to the only time in which it must be utterly useless — when the 
 heart is bleeding with fresh anguish, and is too weak to feel, and 
 too desolate to desire consolation? 
 
 " It is painful to reflect that the cemeteries in our cities, crowd- 
 ed on all sides by the overhanging habitations of the li\nng, are 
 walled in only to preserve them from violation. And that in 
 our country towns they are left in a sad, neglected state, exposed 
 to every sort of intrusion, with scarcely a tree to shelter their 
 barrenness, or a shrub to spread a grateful shade over the new- 
 made hillock. 
 
 " These things were not always so among Christians. They 
 are not worthy of us. They are not worthy of Christianity in our 
 day. There is much in these things that casts a just reproach 
 upon us in the past. There is much that demands for the future 
 a more spiritual discharge of our duties. 
 
 " Our cemeteries, rightly selected, and properly arranged, may 
 be made subservient to some of the highest purposes of religion 
 and human duty. They may preach lessons to which none may 
 refuse to listen, and which all that live must hear. Truths may 
 
30 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 be there felt and taught in the silence of our own meditations, more 
 persuasive and more enduring than ever flowed from human lips. 
 The grave hath a voice of eloquence, nay of superhuman elo- 
 quence, which speaks at once to the thoughtlessness of the rash, 
 and the devotion of the good; which addresses all times, and all 
 ages, and all sexes ; which tells of wisdom to the wise, and of 
 comfort to the afflicted; which warns us of our follies and our dan- 
 gers; which whispers to us in accents of peace, and alarms us in 
 tones of terror ; which steals with a healing halm into the stricken 
 heart, and lifts up and supports the broken spirit r which awakens 
 a new enthusiasm for virtue, and disciplines us for its severer tri- 
 als and duties ; which calls up the images of the illustrious dead, 
 with an animating presence, for our example and glory ; and 
 which demands of us, as men, as patriots, as Christians, as immor- 
 tals, that the powers given by God should be devoted to his ser- 
 vice, and the minds created by his love, should return to him with 
 larger capacities for virtuous enjoyment, and with more spiritual 
 and intellectual brio-htness, 
 
 " It should not be for the poor purpose of gratifying our Tanity 
 or pride, that we should erect columns, and obelisks, and monu- 
 ments to the dead, but that we may read thereon much of our own 
 destiny and duty. We know that man is the creature of associa- 
 tions and excitements. Experience may instruct, but habit, and 
 appetite, and passion, and imagination, will exercise a strong do- 
 minion over him. These are the Fates, which weave the thread 
 of his character, and unravel the mysteries of his conduct. The 
 truth which strikes home, must not only have the approbation of 
 his reason, but it must be embodied in a visible, tangible, prac- 
 tical form. It must be felt as well as seen. It must warm as 
 well as convince. 
 
 " It was a saying of Themistocles, that the trophies of Mil- 
 t'iades would not suffer him to sleep. The feeling thus express- 
 ed, has a deep foundation in the human mind; and, as it is well 
 or ill directed, it will cover us with shame, or exalt us to glory. 
 The deeds of the great attract but a cold and listless admiration, 
 when they pass in historical order before us like moving sha- 
 dows. It is the trophy and the monument which invests them 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 31 
 
 with a substance of local reality. Who, that has stood by the 
 tomb of Washington, on the quiet Potomac, has not felt his heart 
 more pure, his wishes more aspiring, his gratitude more warm, 
 and his love of country touched by a holier flame '? Who, that 
 should see erected in shades like these, even a cenotaph to the 
 memory of a man like Buckminster, that prodigy of early 
 genius, would not feel that there is an excellence over which 
 death hath no power, but which lives on through all time, still 
 freshening with the lapse of ages. 
 
 " But passing from those who by their talents and virtues 
 have shed lustre on the annals of mankind, to cases of more 
 private bereavement, who that should deposit, in shades like 
 these, the remains of a beloved friend, would not feel a secret 
 pleasure in the thought, that the simple inscription to his worth 
 would receive the passing tribute of a sigh from thousands of 
 kindred hearts ? That the stranger and the traveller would lin- 
 ger on the spot with a feeling of reverence ? That they, the very 
 mourners themselves, when they should revisit it, would find 
 there the verdant sod, and the fragrant flower, and the breezy 
 shade ? That they might there, unseen, except of God, offer up 
 their prayers, or indulge the luxury of grief? That they might 
 there realize, in its full force, the affecting beatitude of the scrip- 
 tures ; ' Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted V 
 
 "Surely, surely, we have not done all our duty, if there yet 
 remains a single incentive to human virtue, without its due play 
 in the action of life, or a single stream of happiness, which 
 has not been made to flow in upon the waters of affliction." 
 
 Miss Adams was truly a remarkable character ; fortunate in 
 friends, in protracted life, and in monumental honors. Every 
 thing about her, but her ardor for knowledge, was subdued, and 
 under perfect control. She lived at a time when she was ne- 
 cessarily the director of her own course of study ; the literature 
 of the day, as far as American literature existed, was scattered, 
 and of a cast to do her no particular good. The pulpit then con- 
 tained many learned men ; but their exertions were mostly confined 
 to their flocks, or to controversial divinity; and among them there 
 was but little concert for the advancement of literature or science. 
 
32 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 The bar then boasted of many vigorous minds; but, excepting 
 her relative, John Adams, but few had written to enlighten man- 
 kind. There was a good share of talent shown in the disserta- 
 tions of the great political questions, Avhich then agitated the 
 colonies ; but this could not interest very deeply a young woman, 
 as she was then. Most lawyers had confined themselves to the 
 strict duties of their profession, and to constitutional questions j 
 and physicians had ventured but a few steps beyond their pre- 
 scribed bounds. A few literary men had just risen above the 
 horizon. Dwight, Trumbull, Green, Mrs. Warren, and some 
 others, had written some popular works, but still there w^as no lite- 
 rary community; she had, of course no school to follow, and never 
 thought of imitating any one, in the republic of letters. The 
 English classics, which she read, formed her style, and whoever 
 has passed his days and nights upon Milton, Young, Pope, Addi- 
 son, Thomson, and others of that school, has seldom made a bad 
 writer. Although she never did, yet she had a right to ascribe 
 her fortune to her merits, virtue, and mind ; she had no beauty 
 or sprightliness to set off her acquirements. Her face was in- 
 tellectual, and her head well formed, but her person could never 
 have been commanding. That one of no graces of person, or 
 charm of manners, should have inspired so much respect and 
 deference, could only be accounted for by the fact, that she lived 
 among those w^ho would, and did, appreciate talents, acquirements, 
 and moral worth. Her prudence was her greatest characteristic, 
 and she was so entirely under the control of this often neglected 
 divinity, that it is doubtful whether she ever uttered an offensive 
 sentence in her life, however much excited by plagiarists or rivals. 
 In her religious opinions she was sincere and circumspect. She 
 gives her creed in her autobiography, a most modest production, 
 with singular felicity, and so precisely in keeping with her char- 
 acter, that we cannot refrain from making the extract. 
 
 " I have already mentioned the perplexity and embarrassment 
 of my mind, while writing my views of religion. After coming 
 to Boston and residing in that city, while the disputes upon uni- 
 tarian sentiments w^ere warmly agitated, I read all that came in 
 my way, upon both sides of the question, and carefully examined 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 33 
 
 the New Testament, with, I think, a sincere and ardent desire to 
 
 know the truth. I deeply felt the difficulties on hoth sides of the 
 
 question, yet prevailingly gave the preference to that class of 
 
 unitarians who adopt the highest ideas of the greatness and 
 
 dignity of the Son of God. I have never arrived to that degree 
 
 of decision Avhich some have attained on this subject. In this, 
 
 and every other disputable subject, 1 would adopt the following 
 
 lines. 
 
 'If I am right, thy grace impart, 
 
 Still in the right to stay. 
 If I am wrong, O teach my heart 
 To find the better way.' " 
 
 The future traveller as he pauses to mourn over the remains 
 of Hannah Adams, the first inhabitant of Mount Auburn, the 
 new city of the dead, will go back to the age in which she 
 flourished, and while calling to mind her merits, his bosom will 
 thrill with gratitude to those who saw and cherished them. 
 
 Maria Cajetana Agnesi, an Italian lady of great learning, 
 was born at Milan, March 16th, 1718. Her inclinations, from her 
 earliest youth, led her to the study of science; and at an age 
 when young persons of her sex attend only to frivolous pursuits, 
 she had made such astonishing progress in mathematics, that 
 when, in 1750, her father, professor in the university of Bologna, 
 was unable to continue his lectures, from infirm health, she 
 obtained permission from the pope, Benedict XIV., to fill his 
 chair. Before this, at the early age of nineteen, she had supported 
 one hundred and ninety-one theses, which were published, in 
 1738, under the title " Propositiones Philosophicae." She was 
 mistress of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, German, and Spanish. 
 At length she gave up her studies, and went into the monastery 
 of the Blue Nuns, at Milan, where she died, January 9th, 1 799. In 
 1740, she published a discourse, tending to prove, "that the study 
 of the liberal arts is not incompatable with the understandings 
 of women." This was written when she was very young ; she 
 wrote upon mathematics of a high order ; fluxions and analytics. 
 The commentators of Newton were acquainted with her mathe- 
 
34 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 matical works, while they were in manuscript. In 1801, these 
 works were published in two volumes, at the expense of Mr. 
 Baron Maseres, to do honor to her memory, and to prove that 
 women have minds capable of comprehending the most abstruse 
 studies. Her eulogy was pronounced by Frisi, and translated into 
 French by Boulard. It should be translated into English ; there 
 are now many young ladies in our schools, capable of the task. 
 
 Harriet Acland, wife of Major Acland, an officer in Bur- 
 goyne's army, is a name familiar to the ear of American readers. 
 Lady Harriet accompanied her husband in the disastrous cam- 
 paign of 1777, from Canada to Saratoga. In the battle of Still- 
 water, October 7th, 1777, her husband commanded the grenadiers 
 of the British army, and bravely sustained the attack upon his 
 forces, until he was overpowered by numbers ; his corps retreated, 
 and left him wounded on the field, he having been shot through 
 the legs. While in this situation, he was saved from an American 
 soldier, who had marked him for plunder, by General, then 
 Major, Wilkinson, who had the gallant officer removed to a 
 place of safety, and medical care. His noble wife, hearing that 
 he was wounded, sought the American camp in an open boat, 
 attended only by the chaplain of her husband's regiment, and 
 the oarsmen of the boat. She came with a letter from General 
 Burgoyne, stating her character, and her wishes. This letter 
 from the commander of the British forces, considering the time 
 and circumstances in which it was written, has been considered 
 a most elegant composition. She was with her husband at 
 Cambridge, when the troops were quartered in that place, under 
 the convention of surrender, made between the two forces at 
 Saratoga. Lady Harriet was much admired for the ease and 
 elegance of her manners, and assisted to settle many little dif- 
 ferences, which arose between the conquerors and the captives, 
 springing, probably, from the irritation of those who were 
 mortified at their situation. 
 
 She returned to England with her husband, where new evils 
 awaited her. The officers in England, who had never fought in 
 America, had the same opinion of the want of courage and 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 35 
 
 ability in the colonial forces, as Burgoyne had before he had 
 tested their prowess. The brave officers who had the misfor 
 tune to be taken with this army, were often annoyed by indirect 
 aspersion upon themselves, in the form of attacks upon the bra- 
 very of American troops. It was felt and resented by every one 
 of that army, from the highest to the lowest. A lieutenant 
 Lloyd, at some convivial party, rung the changes upon American 
 cowardice, which Major Acland, both in justice to the corps he 
 had commanded at Stillwater, and to the brave foe he encoun- 
 tered, gave the lieutenant the lie direct. A duel was the conse- 
 quence ; and Major Acland fell at the first fire of his antagonist, 
 deeply lamented at home and abroad. On the reception of this 
 sad news, lady Harriet lost her senses, and life became a blank 
 to her for two years or more ; when, by reason of the strength 
 of her constitution, she recovered, and was again restored to 
 society. The good man, who had accompanied her when she 
 sought her wounded husband on the night of the seventh of Octo- 
 ber 1777, never deserted her in this great misfortune; and on 
 her recovery she left the gay world, and in gratitude, gave her 
 hand to Mr. Brudenell, a very worthy clergyman. Lady Har- 
 riet outlived her second husband for many years, and died not 
 long since, in a good old age. The anecdotes of that campaign 
 would fill many volumes. The baroness of Reidesel has pub- 
 lished a graphic account of the battle. Her husband com- 
 manded the German troops under Burgoyne. The foreign 
 troops had been led to think that the American war would be 
 only a pastime ; and when it was over, and that would be speed- 
 ily, the lands and other property of their foes, would be shared 
 among them for their valqr. They were taught a sad lesson by 
 experience. 
 
 Phebe H. Abbot, wife of Captain Henry Abbot, of Andover, 
 in Massachusetts, was born in that place in 1746. Her maiden 
 name was Abbot. Those of the name were descendants of the 
 first settlers of the town. She was much younger than her hus- 
 band, who died in 1805, in the eighty sixth year of his age. He 
 was a wealthy yeoman, and a fine specimen of New England 
 
36 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 commonwealths-men in her former days. He did many things 
 because his father had done them; and he did many others, 
 because he thought them among his duties, as a freeman, 
 inheriting the property of a freeman. He commanded a militia 
 company, and marched with spirit and alacrity, when he heard 
 that the Indians had invaded the frontiers, to chastise their 
 insolence ; and during the revolutionary war, he was ready to 
 take his part in the deliverence of his country. He paid his 
 taxes cheerfully, when his property was assessed ; and he turned 
 all he had to the best account for himself and his country. He, 
 like others, lost the earnings of many hard days labor, by the 
 depreciation of continental money, a stain on the name of our 
 country's justice; but after the peace, his industry soon made 
 him forget his losses. Mrs. Abbot managed her household 
 affairs with great exactness and economy, but still with liberality. 
 Her table was bountiful, without any parade. Not a crumb was 
 lost, not an ingredient misapplied. Her eye was upon every 
 thing ; every measure of meal was weighed, every flask of oil 
 was measured, and her calculations never failed. She had not 
 a large family of her own, only two sons and one daughter ; 
 and the eldest son was not much at home, having been educated 
 at Harvard University: but their large farm and mansion house 
 was fitted for boarders, and when Phillips founded his academy 
 in that town, he stipulated with the best families of the parish, 
 that each should receive students as boarders, according to the 
 accommodations they possessed. Captain Abbot had the means 
 of accommodating a half dozen, or more, without any incon- 
 venience, and he paid a most religious regard to his engage- 
 ment. In this family, students were provided with good and 
 wholesome food, spacious rooms, and plenty of fuel ; and they 
 were taken care of as children. No fond mother could be more 
 attentive to the health, morals, and habits of her ofl^spring, than 
 Mrs. Abbot was to those under her care. It was considered a 
 fortunate affair to get into her family. She was exact, but not 
 rigid ; economical, but liberal. The household affairs were all 
 managed without bustle, that no boy might plead an excuse that 
 he was interrupted in his studies by the noise of the spinning 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 37 
 
 wheel, or the churn. Of those who were under her care, and 
 there were many in the course of the long period she was able to 
 look after her family, no one ever complained of ill treatment or 
 neglect. All were satisfied. She and her husband were mem- 
 bers of the congregational church in the place, and were as 
 regular as the holy sabbath came, at divine service ; and every 
 boy was required to be in readiness to attend her to the place of 
 worship; and there the slightest misconduct or neglect was 
 noticed and reproved. Times passed on, and seasons changed ; 
 but, nothing but death made changes in her arrangements. As 
 one boy went ofi'to college, another took his place, and was soon 
 acquainted with her discipline ; and if he felt it a little too strict 
 at first, he soon found comfort and happiness in it. Mrs. Abbot 
 was a woman of a strong mind, which was most admirably 
 disciplined, of excellent principles, of great equanimity of tem- 
 per, and of fine health ; always at, or near home, ready for every 
 care which her family demanded. She took a deep interest in 
 all her friends and acquaintances, and spared no pains to oblige 
 them. She had no meanness, or selfishness in her nature, but 
 w^as just and generous to all. Such a woman was a good guide 
 to youth; and she read their characters at a glance. She excited 
 her boys to study, and felt as delighted as a mother, when they 
 wore testimonials of improvement. On such occasions some little 
 nicety was provided for them, to show that she had an interest 
 in their reputation. 
 
 She had the misfortune to lose her only daughter, Avhen full 
 grown, and just entering into life with fair prospects ; but even 
 this calamity did not disturb her composure. " The Lord gave, 
 the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be his name,^^ was all that 
 escaped her lips under this bereavement. Nature had done 
 much towards making her a woman of fortitude, but religious 
 discipline had done more. She lived until the summer of 1833, 
 and then died of old age. For a few years before her death, 
 she hp'^ been afflicted with blindness, but this did not change 
 her temper. She said that the great disposer of events had 
 done all this to detach her from the world, and to teach her to 
 contemplate the great change about to take place. It was 
 
 4 
 
38 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 delightful to her in later times, to talk of those who had lived 
 with her, in past days; they were all remembered under the 
 denomination of children. She was discriminating and just in 
 marking their characteristics, and, indeed, was seldom out in her 
 calculations. Her predictions among the boys, if unfavorable, 
 were dreaded as bad omens; and her affectionate expressions 
 cheered the poor fellow Avho v/as delving upon his Greek les- 
 son. If it gave permanent glory in Rome to have educated two 
 bright boys, what honors belong to her, who had, during her 
 pilgrimage, more than two hundred under her maternal care, 
 and all of them having cause for blessing her name. It requires 
 wisdom to direct minds, and it is a proof of virtue to have edu- 
 cated others to good habits. If the mothers of our country 
 cannot boast of the glories of fashion, or their taste in the arts, 
 it must be acknowledged, that those virtues, which give strength 
 to principle, and security to society, were eminently theirs. It is 
 not in the higher regions of life, that its value can be truly 
 ascertained. The elevated must act for others, as well as them- 
 selves; those depressed below the ordinary level of existence, 
 have seldom sufficient fortitude to see all the bearings of human 
 duties. It is in the more common walks of society that the true 
 nature of man is best ascertained ; those who have neither 
 poverty or riches, have but few temptations. 
 
 The latter days of Mrs. Abbot were not so prosperous as 
 those which had preceded them ; for her children were not very 
 fortunate in life; but she found consolation in those principles 
 she had from youth professed, and they bore her on triumphantly, 
 until she bade adieu to all things of time and sense. 
 
 Isabella Andreini, was born at Padua, m 1653. She 
 became an actress of great fame, and was flattered by the ap- 
 plauses of men of wit and learning of her time. The Italian 
 theatre was considered, in that day, a literary institution. She 
 is described as a woman of elegant figure, beautiful couii^ "nance, 
 and melodious voice ; of taste in her profession, and conversant 
 with the French and Spanish languages; nor was she unac- 
 quainted with philosophy and the sciences. She was a votary 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 39 
 
 of the muses, and cultivated poetry with ardor and success. 
 The Intenti academicians of Pavia, conferred upon her the 
 honors of their society, and the title of Isabella Andreini, Co- 
 mica Gelosa, Academica Intenta, detta I'Accesa. She dedicated 
 her works to Cardinal Aldobrandini, (nephew to Pope Clement 
 VIII.) by whom she was greatly esteemed, and for whom many 
 of her poems were composed. In France, whither she made a 
 tour, she met with a most flattering reception from the king, the 
 queen, and the court. She died in 1604, at Lyons, in the forty- 
 second year of her age. Her husband was overwhelmed with 
 affliction at her loss, and erected a monument to her memory, in 
 the city in which she expired, inscribed with an epitaph com- 
 memorative of her virtues. The learned strove to outdo each 
 other in pronouncing panegyrics on her character. Even a 
 medal was struck, with this inscription, " Sterna Fama." Her 
 works are numerous, and still much admired by the lovers of 
 Italian literature ; they are readily found in print. She left a 
 son, born in 1578, who was also a poet; he wrote, among other 
 things, " Adamo," a sacred drama, in five acts, with chorusses, 
 &c., Milan, 1613, and 1617, with prints, designed by Carlo 
 Antonio Proccachini, a celebrated landscape painter of his time, 
 and of the school of the Carracci ; but in a wretched style, para- 
 dise being represented as full of dipt hedges, square parterres, 
 straight walks, &c. But what is more interesting, Voltaire, in 
 his visit to England, in 1727, suggested that Mihon took his hint 
 cf his Paradise Lost from this drama. This obtained little credit 
 at the time, and was contemptuously rejected by Dr. Johnson, in 
 his life of Milton. Mr. Hayley, however, has revived the 
 question, and with considerable advantage to Voltaire's supposi- 
 tion ; and it seems now to be the opinion, that the coincidence 
 between Andreini' s plan, and Milton's, is too great to be the 
 effect of chance. But no matter from whence the mighty bard 
 drew his hint, from the sparks he may have taken from another 
 author, he set the Empyrean in a blaze. 
 
 Joan lyARC was born of humble parentage, in the village of 
 Domsemi, near Tancouleurs, on the borders of Lorraine, in 
 
40 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 1402. The instructions she received during her childhood and 
 youth, were suited to her humble condition. She left her parents 
 at an early age, to relieve them from the burden of her subsist- 
 ence, and engaged herself as a servant at a small inn. Here 
 she employed herself in attending the horses of her guests, and 
 riding them without a saddle to the watering place ; and in per- 
 forming other duties, which at larger inns are the duties of men. 
 By these exercises she acquired an active spirit, and a robust, 
 and hardy frame. Without displaying, in such an exposed situ- 
 ation, any superiority of talent or character, she preserved her 
 manners and conduct free from reproach. 
 
 The critical and interesting situation of France at that time, 
 became a frequent subject of conversation, even with people of 
 the lowest rank. Joan had been taught to hold in detestation 
 the English name, and the ravages of war, extending even to her 
 father's cottage, increased this abhorrence. She eagerly listening 
 to the daily and varying tale, became interested in political affairs, 
 and caught the spirit of the times The rnisfortunes of the 
 dauphin, his gentle and amiable character, and the perils which 
 threatened him, awakened in her heart a sentiment of loyal and 
 generous attachment. She meditated on the means of his de- 
 liverance, and on the calamities of her bleeding country, till her 
 imagination became inflamed, the delusions of which she mis- 
 took for an impulse from heaven. Excited by these ideas, she 
 repaired to Vaucouleurs, had an interview with Baudricourt, 
 the governor, to whom she imparted her mission, and conjured 
 him not to neglect the voice of God, of which she was the organ ; 
 but to second her heavenly revelations. The governor was not 
 disposed to hear her at first, but she, not daunted, renewed her 
 solicitations. She waited upon him daily, and at each successive 
 visit, her importunity was increased. He, at length, adopted the 
 scheme of Joan; gave her some attendants, and accompanied 
 her to the French court, then residing at Chinon. 
 
 Not the marvelous alone, but the miraculous also, is attached 
 to the history of this extraordinary woman. It is pretended, 
 that Joan, immediately on her admission, knew the king, though 
 she had never seen him before, and though he purposely kept 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 41 
 
 himself in the crowd of courtiers, and had laid aside every thing 
 in his dress, which might distinguish him : that she offered him, 
 in the name of the supreme creator, to raise the siege of Orleans, 
 and conduct him to Rheims, there to be crowned ; and on his 
 expressing some doubts of her mission, revealed to him a secret, 
 which was unknown to every person except himself, and which 
 nothing but a heavenly inspiration could have discovered to her; 
 and that she demanded as the instrument of her future victories, 
 a particular sword, kept in the church of St. Catharine, of Fier- 
 bois, and which, though she had never seen it, she described, by 
 all its marks, and by the place where it had long lain neglected. 
 
 An assembly of grave divines examined Joan's mission, and 
 pronounced it to be undoubted ; and the parliament, collected at 
 Poicters, confirmed the decisions of the theolosfians, Joan was 
 dressed in a complete suit of armor, mounted on a prancing 
 charger, and shown to the admiring people. Her fine person; 
 the comeliness of her countenance, and the grace with which 
 she managed her steed, completed the popular delusion : the air 
 was rent by the shouts and acclamations of the spectators. Her 
 former occupation was, by her admirers, softened into that of a 
 shepherdess; from her age, which was seven and twenty, ten 
 years were subtracted; chivalry, religion, and sentiment, were 
 the powerful auxiliaries that united on this occasion, to captivate 
 the fancy, and to inflame the hearts of the multitude. 
 
 It "was uijw determined to try her force against the enemy. 
 She was sent to Blois, were a large convoy was preparing for 
 the supply of Orleans ; and an army of ten thousand men had 
 assembled^ as an escort. Before marching, she ordered all the 
 soldiers to confess their sins, a fid banished from the camp all 
 women of ill fame. Joan covered with her troops the embarka- 
 tion. Suffolk, the English commander, did not venture to attack 
 her ; and the French general reconducted the escorting army in 
 safety to Blois. 
 
 Under Joan's sacred influence, the garrison now believed 
 themselves invincible. The next convoy passed without any 
 obstruction, and silence and astonishment prevailed among the 
 English troops. Joan, seizing the moment of ardor, exhorted 
 
 4* 
 
42 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the garrison to make a sally on the enemy : the generals second- 
 ed her spirit, and gallantry: the troops, assured of the assist- 
 ance of heaven, poured impetuously on the dispirited English ; 
 their ranks were mowed down, their redoubts forced, and those 
 Avhom the sword spared were carried into captivity. 
 
 On one occasion the French gave way, and Joan was left 
 nearly alone. Compelled at length to join the deserters, she 
 displayed on high the sacred banner; while with her voice, her 
 countenance, and her gestures, she animated her recreant fol- 
 low^ers, led them back to the charge, turned the fortune of the 
 field, and overpow^ered the enemy. When wounded, on another 
 occasion in the neck, by an arrow, she retired for a moment, and 
 exclaimed, as with her own hand she extracted the weapon, " It 
 is glory, and not blood, which flows from this wound." The 
 wound having been quickly dressed, she returned to head the 
 assailants, and to plant her victorious standard on the enemy's 
 ramparts. At an attack on Jergeau, she descended into the 
 fosse, where she was beaten to the ground, by a blow on her 
 head from a stone, but quickly recovering herself, the assault 
 was carried, and Suffolk made prisoner. 
 
 Joan had now accomplished one part of her mission, in raising 
 the siege of Orleans ; the crowning of Charles at Rheims only 
 remained to be effected, on which she now" insisted. Charles, 
 accompanied by the victorious female, at the head of twelve 
 thousand men, set out for Rheims; every towTi opened its gates 
 to him as he passed. The ceremony of his coronation was then 
 performed ; Joan stood by his side, in complete armor, displaying 
 her sacred banner, and the people shouted with tumultuous joy. 
 
 The English, supported by the duke of Burgundy, laid seige 
 to the town of Compeigne, into which Joan threw herself The 
 garrison, who with her assistance believed themselves invinci- 
 ble, received her with transports of joy. Here, however, her 
 good fortune forsook her, and after performing prodigies of 
 valor, and losing her horse under her, she was compelled to 
 surrender to the enemy. The Burgundians, into w^hose hands 
 she had fallen, sold her to the English, for ten thousand livres. 
 It is believed the French officers, jealous of the glory of the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 43 
 
 maid, had designedly exposed her to this fatal catastrophe. 
 Such is human gratitude, and the fate of merit ; and such the 
 recompense awarded to the benefactors of their species. She 
 was tried for sorcery and magic, and sentenced to perpetual 
 imprisonment ; and to he fed, during life, on bread and water. 
 The trial was a mockery on justice. 
 
 Both the French and English might now have been convinced, 
 that the opinion of divine influence, which had so much encour- 
 aged the one and depressed the other, was without foundation. 
 But the barbarous vengeance of Joan's enemies, was not yet 
 satisfied. Near four months she Avas continually harassed by 
 questions, and persecutions, the most ridiculous and absurd; she 
 Avas asked, whether at the coronation of Charles, she had not 
 displayed a standard, consecrated by magical incantation. " Her 
 trust," she replied, " was in the image of the Almighty impress- 
 ed on the banner ; and that she, Avho had shared the danger of 
 the field, was entitled to partake of the glory at Rheims. During 
 these examinations she betrayed no weakness, nor gave to her 
 persecutors any advantage ; she disgraced not the heroism she 
 had displayed in the field. At length, she was excommunicated, 
 and all pardon, all mercy refused to her. Crowned with a paper, 
 on which were inscribed the terms, " apostate, heretic, and idola- 
 tress," and guarded by soldiers, she was delivered over to the 
 stake, which had been erected for the purpose in the market- 
 place of Rouen. 
 
 On the right hand of the scaffold, on which she was exposed 
 to the sav^age fury of the people, were stationed the clergy, and 
 on the left the secular officers. In this situation she w^as, w^ith 
 solemn mockery, interrogated on the principles of her faith ; 
 principles, which appeared to differ in no respect, fr-om those of 
 her merciless persecutors. She was at the conclusion informed, 
 ' that the meek and merciful ministers of the gospel had, for the 
 execution of their sentence, handed her over to the secular 
 powers." — Dieu soit bene! "Blessed be God!" exclaimed the 
 sufferer, as she placed herself on the pile. Her body w^as quickly 
 consumed, and her ashes scattered to the winds. Thus perished 
 this heroic woman, June 14th, 1431; to whom, (it is justly ob- 
 
44 FEMALE BIOGRAPHV. 
 
 served by Mr. Hume,) "the more liberal and generous supersti- 
 tions of the ancients would have erected altars." 
 
 In 1454, a revision of the sentence of Joan was demanded by 
 her mother ; and the memory of Joan was fully cleared of every 
 imputation which could tend to its dishonor, by the bishop of 
 Paris, under a commission by pope Nicolas Y, Monuments 
 were erected to her honor, in Orleans, at Rouen, and various 
 parts of France. Some years after her decease, Joan was, by a 
 bull of pope Calixtus III., declared a martyr to her religion, her 
 country, and her king. 
 
 Jane Austen, a highly gifted and sensible novelist, was born 
 on the sixteenth of December, 1775, at Steventon, in the county of 
 Hantz, Eng., for which parish, her father was rector for upwards 
 of forty years. At the age of seventy, he resided with his family 
 at Bath, and upon his death, his widow and two daughters 
 retired to Southampton, and ultimately, in, 1807, to Chawton, 
 in the same county. It was during her residence in the last 
 mentioned place, that Miss Austen composed the novels, which 
 for ease, nature, and a complete knowledge of the features which 
 distinguish the domesticity of the English country gentry, are 
 very highl}^ estimated. The principal of these productions, are, 
 "Sense and Sensibility,'' "Pride and Prejudice," "Mansfield 
 Park," and " Emma." Two more, published after her death, 
 entitled, " Northenger Abbey," and " Persuasion," which were 
 however, her most early attempts. The praise-worthy object of 
 Miss Austen, in all her works was to advocate the superiority of 
 sound principles, unsophisticated manners, and undesigning rec- 
 titude, to more splendid and artificial pretensions ; and within 
 the sphere of her delineation she eminently succeeded. At the 
 same time her discrimination was acute, her humor easy, and 
 spontaneous, and her power of creating an interest in her cha- 
 racter, by slight and reiterated touches, extraordinary. This 
 amiable and accomplished lady, whose personal and mental at- 
 tractions were otherwise of a high order, died of a decline, on 
 the eighteenth of July, 1817, in her forty-second year ; and her 
 virtues are held in sweat remembrance. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 45 
 
 Joan D' Albert, queen of Navarre, daughter of Heory 
 D' Albert and Margaret of Valois, was born in 1528. At eleven 
 years of age, she was married, contrary to her own inclinations 
 and those of her parents, to the duke of Cleves, by the authority 
 of Francis I., but the marriage was afterwards declared null. 
 In 1548, she married Anthony of Bourbon, duke of Vendome. 
 She was the mother of Henry IV. of France. On the death 
 of her father, in 1555, she became queen of Navarre, and her 
 husband took the title of king. They favored the reformed 
 religion, and would probably have openly professed it, had they 
 not feared the resentment of the French king, Henry II. After 
 his death they declared their conversion to Calvinism, which re- 
 ligion Joan afterwards zealously protected. Anthony, on the 
 other hand, a weak and fickle man, renounced his new faith, 
 and commanded against the protestants in the civil war, in which 
 he was killed at the siege of Rouen, in 1562. Joan, who was 
 ill treated by him after his change, left the court of France, and 
 returned to Beam. She not only established the protestant re- 
 ligion in her states, but abolished popery, and seized the ecclesi- 
 astical property, which she applied to the maintenance of the 
 reformed clergy, and the schools. Her catholic subjects several 
 times revolted, and a plot was formed to deliver her and her 
 children into the hands of the king of Spain ; but she defeated 
 all their conspiracies, and maintained her royal authority. In 
 1568, she quitted her states to join the chiefs of the French pro- 
 testants : and at Cognac had an interview with the prince of 
 Conde, to whom she presented her son, then fifteen years old, 
 with her jewels, as devoted to the service of the cause. She 
 withdrew to Rochelle, whence she wrote a pathetic letter to 
 Elizabeth, queen of England, describing the calamities and op- 
 pressions which had induced the protestants to lake up arms. 
 During her absence, the catholics of Beam again revolted, but 
 were put down by her general, the count of Montgomery. Her 
 prudence was lulled by the flattering proposal of Charles IX., to 
 marry his sister to her son ; and she came to Paris to prepare for 
 the nuptials. In the midst of them, she was seized with a disease, 
 of which she died, June, 1572, in her forty-fourth year. Her 
 
46 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 death was not without suspicion of poison, which, if not contra- 
 dicted by the circumstances, would be rendered sufficiently credi- 
 ble by the character of that court, which soon after acted the 
 horrible tragedy of the massacre of Saint Bartholomew's. 
 
 Charlotte D' Albert was the wife of Caesar Borgia, whose 
 misfortunes she shared without reproaching him of his vices. 
 She was pious, sensible, witty, and had much genius for poetry. 
 Her husband was guilty of almost every crime known to human 
 nature, while she was practising every virtue that adorns her sex. 
 
 Aldrude, countess of Bertinoro, in Romagna, has been highly 
 celebrated by Italian writers, for the loveliness of her person, 
 the courtesy of her manners, and the superiority of understand- 
 ing, with which she was blessed. Her fortune was princely, 
 her munificence extensive, and she was universally beloved and 
 admired; but the circumstance which peculiarly handed her 
 down to posterity, is the military ardor which glowed in her 
 breast. Anconia, a city situated on the Adriatic sea, Avas be- 
 sieged, in the year 1167; and, though the inhabitants bravely 
 repelled the attacks of their enemies, famine reduced them to 
 the utmost distress. As the fort was blockaded, no hopes could 
 be entertained of succor. In this situation, they determined to 
 apply to William, son of Marcheitto degh Adelarde, for relief; 
 and three of their nobles contrived to elude the vigilance of their 
 enemies, and reached Ferrara in a small ship. William gene- 
 rously consented to afford them the succor they demanded, and 
 hastened into Lombardy to assemble his troops; but advised 
 them likewise, to implore the aid of the countess of Bertinoro, 
 who had a large body of troops at her command. Moved with 
 compassion for the unfortunate Anconians, the amiable countess 
 promised the assistance which they solicited, and assembling 
 her troops, united them to Williuni's. When they arrived near 
 Anconia, she addressed them in the following words : — '*■ Forti- 
 fied and encouraged by the favor of heaven, I have, contrary to 
 the custom of my sex, determined to address you in a plain 
 exhortation, which, though it may not be flattering to your ears, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 47 
 
 may serve to rouse the vigor of your minds. I solemnly swear 
 to you, that on the present occasion, no views of interest, no 
 dreams of ambition, have impelled me to succor the beiseged. 
 Since the death of my husband, though plunged in sorrow, I 
 have found myself undisputed mistress of his domains. The 
 preservation of my numerous possessions, to which my wishes 
 are limited, afford for my sex and capacity, a sufficient occupa- 
 tion of my time ; but the perils which encompass the wretched 
 Anconians, united to the tears and prayers of the women, appeal 
 to humanity for aid. To relieve a people consumed by famine, 
 exhausted by resistance, and exposed to calamites, I have left my 
 dominions, accompanied by my son, who, though a little child, 
 recalls to my remembrance the great soul of his father, by whom 
 the wretched were protected, and the afflicted redressed. And 
 you, warriors of Lombardy and Romania, not less illustrious for 
 your fidelity to your engagements, than renowned for your valor 
 in the field; you, whom the same cause has brought here to obey 
 the orders, and emulate the example of William Adelarde, who 
 listening only to his generosity and love of freedom, has not scru- 
 pled to engage his possessions, his friends, and his vassals, for the 
 deliverance of Anconia ; a conduct so generous, so worthy of 
 praise, requires no comment; beneath our sense of it, magna- 
 nimity and language fail. An enterprise, so full of glory, has 
 already nearly succeeded ; already have you passed the defiles 
 occupied by the enemy, and pitched your tents in the hostile 
 country. It is now the time that the seed which was scattered 
 should bring forth fruit; it is time to make trial of your strength, 
 and that valor, for which you are distinguished ; for courage is 
 relaxed by delay. Let the dawn of day find you under arms, 
 that the sun may illumine the victory promised by the Most 
 Fligh, for your pity to the unfortunate." This exhortation was 
 received by the soldiery with reiterated bursts of applause ; and 
 the Venetians, alarmed at the united force v.hich had assembled 
 for the relief of the Anconians, thought it most prudent to make 
 a retreat. To what period the life of this great and amiable 
 woman was extended, the biographer, who gives the preceeding 
 account, does not relate : but the date of her birth, and the exact 
 
48 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 time when she closed her existence, are uninteresting when com- 
 pared with her superior abilities and worth. 
 
 Aria, or Arria, a Roman lady, the wife of CaBcina Pastus, 
 whose fortitude and conjugal affection have immortalized her 
 name. Several acts of noble firmness were crowned by that 
 which terminated her existence. Her husband, having rebelled 
 against Claudius, was ordered to destroy himself Seeing him 
 hesitate, Aria plunged the poniard into her own breast, to give 
 him courage to do the act he determined on, or was ordered to 
 do, and presented it to him, saying at the same time, " Paetus, it 
 is not painful !" Self destruction was, in the Roman creed, no 
 moral crime. Cato, Brutus, and hundreds of their mightiest 
 men, had done it. Aria's heroism was not less than theirs; and 
 that heroic spirit, which taught her husband the road to death, 
 would, in a Christian course, in a day of more glorious light, 
 have made her a martyr, and a saint : and although her exam- 
 ple cannot now be followed in any case, yet, her courage and 
 fortitude should not be forgotten. The great Pliny was her 
 biographer. 
 
 Agnes, wife of Andrew III., king of Hungary, was the 
 daughter of Albert, emperor of Germany. She distinguished 
 herself by her address, and political abilities ; but appears to 
 have had more Machiavelian policy than true greatness of mind. 
 After the death of her father, she resided in Switzerland, where 
 her finesse was of great service to her brother, Albert II., with 
 whom these people were at war. She died in 1364. 
 
 Alice, queen of France, wife of Lewis VII., third daughter 
 of Thibaut the Great, count of Champagne. The princess 
 receiving a careful education in the magnificent court of her 
 father, and possessing the natural qualifications of beauty, good- 
 nature, wit, and a fondness for poetry, in which consisted a great 
 part of the literature of that age, was much extolled, for those 
 advantages. Independent of allying himself with Thibaut, 
 whom he bad found a powerful enemy, and thus detaching him 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 49 
 
 from the interest of the English, already too potent in France, 
 Lewis VII., on the death of his second wife, in 1160, saw none 
 equal to Alice in personal charms and character. He accordingly 
 demanded her of her father, who, with his family and nobles, 
 repaired immediately to the court of France, where, soon after, 
 the nuptials were celebrated with great magnificence. And to 
 cement the union more strongly, two daughters of the king, by 
 his first wife, were married also to the two elder sons of the 
 count. Four years afterwards, in 1165, she had a son, after- 
 wards Philip Augustus, to the great joy of Lewis, and the 
 nation in general. Tenderly beloved by her husband, whose ill 
 health often interfered with the duties of his station, Alice not 
 only assisted him in conducting the affairs of the nation, but 
 superintended, with affectionate zeal, the education of her son, 
 who afterwards became one of the greatest of the French mon- 
 archs. Lewis died in 1180, having appointed Alice to the 
 regency; but the young prince being married to Isabella of 
 Hainault, niece to the earl of Flanders, the authority was bal- 
 anced between them, and produced frequent disputes. She 
 applied to Henry II., of England, who reconciled Philip to his 
 mother, and her brothers ; and her son was so^well satisfied with 
 her conduct, that in 1190, on going to the Holy Land, he con- 
 fided, by the advice of his barons, the education of his son, and 
 the regency of the kingdom to Alice, and her brother the cardi- 
 nal, archbishop of Rheims, She died at Paris, in 1205. 
 
 AisHA, a poetess of Spain, during the time the Moors had 
 possession of that kingdom. At this time the Moors cultivated 
 every species of polite literature with success, while the rest of 
 Europe was sunk in ignorance and sloth. Amongst the womei> 
 who particularly distinguished themselves, was this lady, daugh- 
 ter of the duke of Almedi, so that "she was honored and esteemed 
 by kings." Her poems and orations were often read with 
 applause in the royal academy of Corduba. She was a virtuous 
 character, lived unmarried, and left behind her many monu- 
 ments of her genius, and a large and select library. The muses 
 have long since departed from the Iberian shores. 
 
 5 
 
50 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 SoPHONisBA Angesciala, 01 Angussala, an Italian lady of 
 a noble Cremonse family, born in 1535, manifested an early love 
 of drawing, and was put under the tuition of Gotti. In a short 
 time she became a complete mistress of painting, and acquired 
 a high reputation. Philip II. invited her to Spain, patronized 
 her liberally, and gave her in marriage to Don Fabricio de 
 Moncorda, who took her to Sicily, her native country. After 
 his death, she married a noble Genoese. At the age of sixty- 
 seven she lost her sight ; but she continued to be the charm of 
 the enlightened society which she called around her. She died 
 at Genoa, about 1620. 
 
 Lady Blanche Arundel, was daughter to Edward Somer- 
 set, earl of Worcester. Wardour castle, being summoned, May 
 2d, 1643, by the parliament forces under Sir Edward Hun- 
 gerford, to surrender, the lady Arundel, who commanded it in 
 the absence of her husband, refused to deliver it up, alledging 
 that she had orders from her lord to keep it, and those orders she 
 was determined to obey. On this reply, the cannon were drawn 
 up, and the battery commenced, which continued from Wednes- 
 day to the following Monday. The castle contained about 
 twenty-five fighting men. During the siege two mines were 
 sprung, by the explosion of which, every room in the fortress 
 was shaken and endangered. The besiegers, more than once, 
 offered to give quarter to the women and children, on condition 
 that the besieged should surrender their arms at discretion. Bui 
 the ladies of the family disdained to sacrifice their brave friends 
 and faithful servants to their own safety; and when the latter were 
 almost worn out by watching, they, with their female servants, as- 
 sisted in loading the muskets, and in administering refreshments 
 to their intrepid defenders. When at length they were obliged 
 to surrender, honorable terms of capitulation were agreed upon, 
 by which both the lives and the property in the fortress were to 
 be spared. The besiegers, however, only respected their lives, 
 while they plundered and burnt the castle ; so that the loss of 
 the earl of Arundel was computed at one hundred thousand 
 pound?. The conduct of her enemies pierced the heart of a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 81 
 
 mother, by obliging her to separate from her children. Two 
 sons, the elder only nine, and the younger seven years of age, 
 were torn from her arms, and carried captive to Dorchester. 
 
 Lady Arundel is buried with her husband, near the altar of 
 an elegant chapel, at Wardour castle; on the monument is an 
 inscription, which, after giving their titles and ancestry, thus con- 
 cludes : " This lady, as distinguished for her courage, as for the 
 splendor of her birth, bravely defended, in the absence of her 
 husband, the castle of Wardour, with a spirit above her sex, for 
 nine days, with a few men, against Sir Edward Hungerford, 
 Edmund Ludlow, and their army, and then delivered it up on 
 honorable terms. Obit. 28 October, 1649, Etat. 66. Requiescat 
 in pace. ' Who shall find a valiant woman ? The price of 
 her is as things brought from afar offi and from the uttermost 
 coast. The heart of her husband trusteth in her.'— Pro v. 31." 
 
 Abella, a female writer, born at Saleme, in the reign of 
 Charles VL, of France. She wrote copiously upon medicine, 
 and her works were held in high estimation for many years. 
 
 Ayesha, was the daughter of Abubeker, and favorite wife of 
 Mahomet, whom he married when she was only nine years 
 of age. She produced Mahomet no offspring, hut was much 
 beloved by him until his death, which took place in her arms. 
 Ayesha was always much respected by the Moslems, who styled 
 her the " Mother of the Faithful;" and her influence, which on 
 some occasions she exercised rather imprudently, was consider- 
 able. On the accession of Ali, she raised a revolt, and was 
 carried in a litter, at the head of the army which marched against 
 him. In the first battle that ensued, she was exposed to much 
 personal danger. According to the Arabian writers, the hands 
 of seventy men were cut ofil who successively held the hridle of 
 her camel. At length, being taken prisoner, Ali, after some 
 mutual reproaches had passed between them, caused her to be 
 respectfully conveyed to Medina, only requiring her to live 
 peaceably at home, and no longer interfere in public affairs. She 
 regained a portion of her influence under his successor, Moawyah, 
 
52 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 but died soon after, in the fifty-eighth year of the Hegira, A. D. 
 672, aged 67. 
 
 Lady Mary Armeyne, was eminent for her piety and learn- 
 ing, as well as rank, in the seventeenth century. She was the wife 
 of Sir William Armeyne, and daughter to Henry, fourth son of 
 George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury. She was well read in the 
 ancient and modern languages, and left behind her several 
 monuments of her munificence in hospitals and other charitable 
 foundations. Her death took place in 1675. 
 
 Mary AsTELL, was an English lady who attained considerable 
 eminence as a public writer, in the early part of the last century. 
 She was born at Newcastle, on Tyne, in 1668, and, instructed by 
 her uncle, a clerg5rman, in Latin, French, philosophy, mathe- 
 matics, and logic. When about twenty, she removed to London ; 
 where, and at Chelsea, she spent the remainder of her life, de- 
 voting her leisure to literary composition. Her first production 
 was " A Serious Proposal to the Ladies, wherein a method is 
 offered for the Improvement of their Minds." London, 1697; 
 12mo. The establishment of a seminary for female education 
 on a large scale, was the object of this work, which attracted 
 much notice. The rest of her works relate chiefly to the reli- 
 gious controversies of the times. She advocated high church 
 principles, attacked the writings of Locke and Archbishop 
 Tillotson, and was complimented by Dr. Waterland. She died 
 in 1731. 
 
 Margaret D'Attendole, wife of Michael de Catignola, 
 and sister of the great Sforzas, founder of the house of Sforzas, 
 dukes of Milan. Of obscure birth and education, this family 
 seemed all to inherit the same heroic spirit. When James, 
 count de la Marche, came to espouse the queen of Naples, Sforza, 
 then grand constable, was sent to meet him; but that prince 
 threw him, his relations, and suite into prison ; thinking by this 
 means to attain, with more ease, the tyrannic power, which he 
 afterwards assumed. Margaret assembled an army, took the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 53 
 
 command, and besieged the king in a castle, where the conditions 
 proposed to him were, to be contented with the title of lieutenant- 
 general of the kingdom, and give Sforza his liberty. Knowing 
 the value of his hostage, he sent deputies to Margaret, menacing 
 him with instant death, if Tricarica was not given up to him. 
 Anxious for her brother, but indignant at the proposition, she 
 instantly formed the resolution of imprisoning the deputies, 
 whose families, alarmed for their safety, ceased not to intercede, 
 till the count consented to set Sforza and his friends at liberty, 
 and to reinstate him in his former situation. 
 
 Anna the Prophetess. — The character of this aged and 
 holy woman, although barely mentioned by the Evangelists, is 
 finely portrayed by Cox, in his Female Scripture Biography^ 
 and is at once a sample and a proof, how much a few satisfactory 
 facts may be enlarged by an ingenious lover of his subject. 
 
 " Two illustrious women have already been presented to the 
 reader as adorning the era of our Saviour's incarnation ; the one, 
 the mother of his humanity, the witness of his miracles, and the 
 weeping attendant upon his crucifixion ; the other, her venerable 
 relative, the wife of Zacharias, and the parent of John, who was 
 the destined precursor of the ' desire of all nations.' We are 
 now to contemplate another female, whose age super-adds a 
 charm to her excellences, and whose privilege also it was to 
 witness the commencing brightness of the evangelical day. Like 
 Elizabeth, her 'memorial' is short, but it does not ' perish with 
 her.'* She has a place in the chronicles of the redeemed, a 
 name before which that of heroes and heroines fade away, and 
 which it requires no 'storied urn nor animated bust' to per- 
 petuate. 
 
 " Anna is introduced to our notice on the memorable occasion 
 which has been already mentioned, when the parents of Jesus 
 took him afler his circumcision to Jerusalem, to ' present him to 
 the Lord.' Then it was that Simeon broke forth in eloquent 
 and prophetic congratulations, expressive at once of his own 
 
 * Ps. ix. 6. 
 
 5* 
 
54 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 triumph over death, in consequence of having witnessed the 
 accomplishment of those prophecies, which had so long and so 
 often filled him with delightful anticipations, and of the ' glory/ 
 which he foresaw would irradiate Israel and enlighten the Gen- 
 tiles. Scarcely had he finished his address, when Anna, a 
 prophetess, remarkable for her extreme age and exemplary piety, 
 entered the temple, and not only united with Simeon and the rest 
 of the interesting group in ' giving thanks unto the Lord,' but 
 • spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.' 
 
 *' It was befitting the majesty of the event which had occurred, 
 that the spirit of prophecy should revive after being dormant for 
 about four hundred years. Since the days of Malachi no such 
 inspiration had been afforded ; but the new and glorious period, 
 commencing with the incarnation, was marked by this, as well 
 as other signs and wonders. When Simeon held the infant 
 Saviour in his arms, the Spirit of God touched his tongue with 
 a live coal from the altar ; and Avhen the aged ' daughter of 
 Phanuel' approached, she caught the glow of kindling rapture, 
 and blended with his her praises and predictions. 
 
 " This eminent woman is represented as ' of great age,' as 
 having ' lived with a husband seven years from her virginity,' 
 and as being ' a widow of about fourscore and four years, which 
 departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and 
 prayers, night and day.'* This form of expression does not 
 seem to furnish decisive evidence whether her entire age was 
 eighty-four, or whether she was a widow during that period ; if 
 the latter, the seven years in which she lived with a husband, 
 together with the probable number which constituted her age at 
 the time of her marriage, must be added to the calculation, which 
 v/ould produce considerably more than a hundred years ; in 
 either case she must be allowed to occupy a conspicuous place 
 in the records of longevity. 
 
 " It has been observed of the aged, that although existence, 
 when extended beyond the usual period of ' threescore years and 
 ten,' is nothing but ' labour and sorrow,' they still adhere to life 
 
 * Luke ii. 36, 37. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 55 
 
 with the utmost tenacity, and are even less disposed to relinquish 
 it than those whose more vigorous powers and undecayed youth 
 capacitate them for its enjoyment. But however surprised we 
 may be to 'witness this anxiety to live, in those who are bending- 
 beneath the pressure of years and the load of decrepitude, and to 
 see that this anxiety rather increases than diminishes, there is 
 something in it by no means unnatural. In addition to the love 
 of life, which is implanted in every human bosom for the wisest 
 purposes, the aged person cannot but feel that he is nearer than 
 others to that hour of separation from all the connexions and 
 interests of time, than the multitude around him ; an hour at 
 which nature instinctively shudders, and which is always re- 
 garded as painful, whatever may be the result. Corporeal suf- 
 fering may be considerable ; and that change of being which 
 the mortal stroke produces has always something about it awful, 
 mysterious, and terrific. There are few instances in which it 
 can be approached without some degree of dread, some shrink- 
 ing of mind, whatever be the state of detachment from the pre- 
 sent world, and whatever pleasing anticipations may exist w^th 
 regard to another : as the patient, however assured of the 
 necessity of the measure, and the importance of the result, 
 trembles while preparations are making to amputate his disor- 
 dered limb. It may be observed also of the young, that while 
 they compassionate their aged friends as the prey of a thousand 
 imbecilities, both of body and mind, and lament over a state in 
 which man is reduced to a second childhood, there is scarcely an 
 individual who does not harbor in secret the wish to attain an 
 age equal at least, if not superior, to any of his contemporaries. 
 The reason is similar to that which influences persons at an 
 advanced period of life ; the thought of death, w^ith all its con- 
 comitant evils, is unwelcome at any time, and consequently it is 
 grateful to the mind to place it at the greatest conceivable dis- 
 tance ; so that, were it now within the appointments of Provi- 
 dence, or the bounds of probability, little doubt can be entertained 
 that the great proportion of mankind w^ould readily accept as a 
 blessing, a patriarchal or antediluvian age. 
 
 " Anna is particularly noticed as the daughter of Phanuel, of 
 
56 FEMAl^E BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 whom we have no other information, and as belonging to the 
 tribe of Asher, which was situated in Galilee. This, whether 
 recorded for that purpose or not, might serve to refute the charge, 
 that ' out of Galilee ariseth no prophet,' since from that quarter 
 proceeded the very first inspirations upon the re^dval of the 
 prophetic spirit. Asher was a very inferior tribe, and one of the 
 ten, carried captive by the Assyrians, having departed from the 
 worship of the true God, and from the house of David, under Jero- 
 boam. But, notwithstanding this general defection, there were 
 individuals who returned and reunited themselves with Judah, 
 that they might enjoy the ancient privileges of the people of God. 
 Thus, even in the worst of times, and amidst the least favorable 
 circumstances, some portion of true religion has always been 
 preserved in the earth. Though the watchful eye of Provi- 
 dence has occasionally suffered the flame of devotion to languish, 
 and almost expire, yet its total extinction has been prevented, and 
 unexpected coincidences have frequently excited it into new and 
 more vigorous action. 
 
 " We have, in the history before us, a specimen of a pious old 
 age, remarkable in itself, and calculated to suggest a variety of 
 useful considerations. This holy woman probably lodged in 
 the immediate vicinity, if not in some of the outward apart- 
 ments of the temple, Avhich gave her an opportunity of indulging 
 in those constant devotions which accorded with her wishes and 
 comported with her age. On every occasion she was present at 
 appointed services; and so entire was her self-devotement to 
 religion, that she was incessantly engaged in fasting and prayer. 
 The Avorld had no claims on her, being alike unfitted for any 
 of its avocations, and indisposed to any of its pleasures. She 
 had bid it a final farewell, and had withdrawn behind the scenes 
 of this vast theatre, which are so artfully painted as to allure 
 and deceive the imaginations of mankind, into the secrecy of 
 devotion, and the sanctuary of her God. Peace was the com- 
 panion of her retirement, and piety shed its serenest ray upon 
 the evening of her mortal existence. 
 
 " It may be presumed that the religion of Anna was by no 
 means of a recent date, but that the seeds of so rich a harvest 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. ht 
 
 were sown in * the fields of youth.' Whatever is great or emi- 
 nent is usually the work of time. Nature does not produce the 
 oak, with its spreading branches and solid trunk, in a day, or a 
 twelvemonth ; and, in general, a rapid luxuriancy is connected 
 with corresponding weakness, and a quick decay. The plans 
 of Providence require the lapse of years or ages to accomplish ; 
 events of importance seldom burst suddenly upon the world, and 
 without a previous course of preparatory dispensations, tending 
 to point out the purposes of such occurrences, and to awaken 
 human expectations. Nor can excellence of character be formed 
 without the use of means, opportunities of progressive improve 
 ment, and that experience which must be slowly gained. 
 
 " Far be it from us to limit the operations of divine grace : it 
 can, indeed, and in some instances has, produced effects of a na- 
 ture to which no general rules and principles are applicable : it 
 has instantaneously converted a furious persecutor into a faithful, 
 laborious, and eminent preacher of 'the faith which he once 
 destroyed:'* it has transformed a malefactor into a saint, and in 
 one hour raised the criminal from the depths of infamy, and the 
 agonies of crucifixion, to the dignity of a believer in Christ, and 
 the joys of paradise.f But these, surely, ought not to be regard- 
 ed as the ordinary methods of its operation, but rather as miracu- 
 lous interferences. In general, religious ordinances are to be 
 constantly and perseveringly attended, in order to the acquisition 
 of eminence in religion. Holy vigilance must concur with 
 devout and fervent prayer, day by day, to check, and finally van- 
 quish the power of depravity, to elevate the mind above the world, 
 and prepare the Christian for his future bliss ; as the child must 
 commonly be ' trained up in the way he should go,' if we hope 
 that ' when he is old he will not depart from it.' \ Impressions 
 deepen and acquire the force of principles by degrees ; know- 
 ledge is obtained by perpetual accumulation ; and faith is increas- 
 ed by constant exercise. It would be as vain to look for the 
 wrinkles of age in the face of youth, or the strength of maturity 
 in the arm of an infant, as to expect the experience, which can 
 
 * Gal. 1. 23. tLuke xxiii. 43. tProv. xxii. 6. 
 
58 FEMALE EIOGRAFHY. 
 
 only result from the witness of changes, and the operation of cir- 
 cumstances, with its corresponding stability of character, in him 
 who has but just commenced a life of piety. As ' the husband- 
 man waiteth for the precious fruits of the earth, and hath long 
 patience for it until he receive the early and the latter rain,' * so 
 we must in general look for a slow and gradual formation of the 
 character to eminence and spiritual luxuriancy. The account 
 fifiven of Anna would therefore lead us to infer that she had been 
 many years, and in all probability from her youth, devoted to the 
 service of God. She had not to regret that her best days were 
 spent in riot and dissipation, in opposition or indifference to reli- 
 gion, by Avhich so many debase their nature, offend their Maker, 
 and ruin their souls ; but while she contemplated the future with- 
 out alarm, and perhaps with joy, she could review the past with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " As memory predominates over the other faculties of the 
 mind in declining life, and as so much of our happiness and 
 misery, at that period, must necessarily result from its exercise, it 
 is of the utmost importance to lay up in store a good provision in 
 the ' sacred treasure of the past.' Nothing can be more desirable 
 than to leave the mind filled with pleasing recollections ; and 
 this can arise only from a life of holiness and purity. How 
 awful is it to think that the last hours should be disturbed by 
 images of crime unrepented of, the intrusion of which into the 
 dying chamber no force can prevent ! How lamentable to see 
 the terrors of death aggravated by the remorse and horrors of 
 retrospection ! ' Life,' says a profound writer,! ' in which no- 
 thing has been done or suffered, to distinguish one day from 
 another, is to him that has passed it, as if it had never been, 
 except that he is conscious how ill he has husbanded the great 
 deposit of his Creator. Life, made memorable by crimes, and 
 diversified through its several periods by wickedness, is indeed 
 easily reviewed, but reviewed only with horror and remorse. 
 
 " ' The great consideration which ought to influence us in the 
 use of the present moment, is to arise from the effect which, as 
 
 * J ames 5. 7. t Dr. Johnson. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 59 
 
 well or ill applied, it must have upon the time to come ; for, 
 though its actual existence be inconceivably short, yet its effects 
 are unlimited, and there is not the smallest point of time but 
 may extend its consequences, either to our hurt, or our advan- 
 tage, through all eternity, and give us reason to remember it for 
 ever, with anguish or exultation.' 
 
 "We may take occasion, from the account of Anna, to remark, 
 that true religion is the most substantial support amidst the in- 
 firmities of age. This is emphatically the period of ' evil 
 days,' when diseases prey upon the constitution, and the facul- 
 ties both of body and mind decay. Then ' the sun and the light, 
 the moon and the stars are darkened ;' the greatest change takes 
 place in the outward circumstances of gladness and prosperity, 
 the countenance of the man is altered, his complexion faded, and 
 his intellectual faculties, as the understanding and the fancy, 
 weakened. It is at this time ' the keepers of the house tremble, 
 and the strong men bow themselves ; the grinders cease, because 
 they are few, and those that look out of the windows are dark- 
 ened ;' the strongest members of the body fail, the limbs bend 
 beneath the weight of decrepitude, and the effects of paralytic 
 distempers ; the teeth drop away, while the eyes grow dim and 
 languid ; ' the doors are shut in the streets when the sound of 
 the grinding is low,' the mouth becoming sunken and closed ; 
 they ' rise up at the voice of the bird,' awakened from imperfect 
 slumber when the cock crows, or the birds begin their early 
 songs ; and ' all the daughters of music,' the tongue that ex- 
 presses, and the ears that are charmed with it, are ' brought 
 low ;' they are ' afraid of that which is high, and fears are in 
 the way,' alarmed at every step they take, lest they should stum- 
 ble at the slightest obstacle, and especially apprehensive of the 
 difficulties of any ascent. At that age their gray hairs thicken 
 like the white flowers of the ' almond tree' when it ' flourishes,' 
 and even the very ' grasshopper is a burden,' for they cannot 
 bear the slightest inconvenience, not even the weight of an in- 
 sect, and 'desire fails ;' then, is the 'silver cord loosed, the golden 
 bowl broken ; the pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the 
 wheel is broken at the cistern ;' all the animal and vital functions 
 
60 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 at length cease, and every essential organ of life decays ; • then 
 shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall 
 return unto God who gave it.'* 
 
 " Reduced to the state of feebleness and incapacity, which the 
 sacred penman so beautifully describes, man becomes an object 
 of compassion ; and it is affecting to see him struggling amidst 
 the ruins of his former self The sight becomes increasingly 
 painful from the consideration that this is one day to be our own 
 condition ; that we too are destined to grow old, to quit the busy 
 scene and the social circle for the solitude of age, and in our turn 
 to be pitied — perhaps forsaken ! But there is one thing capable, 
 not only of preserving the old from contempt, but of raising them 
 to grandeur and diffusing lustre over their years of decrepitude. 
 In contemplating Anna we do not think of her infirmities when 
 we observe her piety; the meanness of the woman — tottering, 
 crippled, dying — is lost amidst the majesty of the saint, inces- 
 santly serving God in his temple, and advancing to the grave ' in 
 a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in his season.'! The 
 dawning of a heavenly day seems to arise upon her * hoary 
 head ;' which, ' being found in the way of righteousness,' is a 
 * crown of glory.' J 
 
 " Anna's history further suggests, that religion is the most ef- 
 fectual guard against the vices of advanced age. One of these 
 is a spirit of querulousness. It is the common practice of those, 
 who believe themselves entitled to veneration on account of their 
 years, to complain of the arrogant disregard of their counsels, 
 which they impute to the rising generation. Cherishing the 
 highest opinion of their own sentiments, to which they attribute 
 a kind of infallibility, as being founded upon experience, they 
 naturally expect implicit submission to their dictates, and an ex- 
 act conformity to their views : they require not only to be heard 
 but obeyed, and are impatient at the folly of those who rebel 
 against their wisdom. Hence originate the often repeated tales 
 of the degeneracy of the present times, and the growing inso- 
 lence of the young. It may, indeed, be admitted, that, other 
 
 * Eccles. xii. 2—7. t Job v. 26. tProv. xvi. 31. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 61 
 
 things being equal, the aged have a just claim upon the attention 
 of the young, whom they are sometimes qualified to instruct ; 
 but surely they are not always entitled to the same reverence, 
 and age does not necessarily confer wisdom. Genuine humility, 
 however, tends to correct the spirit of dictation, while it combines 
 with an affectionate concern for the interests of those who are 
 newly come into life ; and genuine humility is the product of 
 religion, which supplies motives to give advice with kindness, 
 and to endure the rejection of it without anger. 
 
 " Another fault of age, is the indulgence of useless regrets for 
 the past. In reviewing life, it is easy to discover instances of 
 oar own incaution or negligence, which have possibly influenced 
 our affairs, and been connected with many subsequent disap- 
 pointments. We have not availed ourselves of fortunate con- 
 junctures, or we have rejected profitable offers ; one scheme has 
 failed by our precipitancy, another by our procrastination ; some 
 persons, perhaps, have been foolishly trusted, and others as fool- 
 ishly suspected ; we have occasionally listened to advice which 
 should not have been taken, or rejected what would have proved 
 advantageous ; and the consequence has been, some diminution 
 of fortune, some disappointment of our expectations, some failure 
 in the crop of earthly enjojTuent which we had anticipated. If 
 it were possible to recall the years which have for ever rolled 
 away, or if the felicity of a rational and immortal being con- 
 sisted in the possession of temporal abundance, w^orldly honor, 
 or corporeal gratification, these regrets would have some show 
 of propriety, and might at least secure a patient hearing ; but it 
 is certain, they only betray a weak or a wicked mind ; it is per- 
 haps equally certain, they will generally continue to occupy the 
 thoughts of the aged. There is, in fact, but one remedy, ' pure 
 and undefiled religion.' It is this alone which can fix in the 
 mind a full persuasion of the nothingness of terrestial pleasures 
 and possessions. This only can console us after our ineffectual 
 efforts to ' gain the whole world,' or amidst the loss of riches 
 which have ' taken to themselves wings,' and long since ' fled 
 away,' by the assurance, that nothing we ever possessed was 
 adequate to render us happy, without other and better enjoy- 
 
62 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ments — that upon a fair estimate, it is questionable whether the 
 perplexities it occasioned, did not counterbalance the advantages 
 it either bestowed or promised — and that could we now call our 
 own whatever we have most valued or desired of worldly good, 
 it would prove incapable of making us substantially happy. He 
 need not wish to renew life, who has the hope of a better exist- 
 ence — nor regret the loss of temporal advantages, if he have 
 immortal good. He who ' lays up for himself treasures in hea- 
 ven,' may defy the storms of time, and adopt the triumphant 
 language of the apostle, amidst the wreck of earthly good, ' ha- 
 ving nothing, yet possessing all things.'* 
 
 " Similar views and principles alone can correct a third error 
 of age, namely, the aim to prolong juvenility to an unnatural 
 period. ' To secure to the old that influence which they are 
 willing to claim, and which might so much contribute to the 
 improvement of the arts of life, it is absolutely necessary that 
 they give themselves up to the duties of declining years ; and 
 contentedly resign to youth its levity, its pleasures, its frolics, 
 and its fopperies. It is a hopeless endeavor to unite the contra- 
 rieties of spring and winter ; it is unjust to claim the privileges 
 of age, and retain the playthings of childhood. The young al- 
 ways form magnificent ideas of the wisdom and gravity of men 
 whom they consider as placed at a distance from them in the 
 ranks of existence, and naturally look on those whom they find 
 trifling with long beards with contempt and indignation, like 
 that which women feel at the effeminncy of men. If dotards 
 will contend with boys in those performances in which boys 
 must always excel them, if they will dress crippled limbs in 
 ejubroidery, endeavor at gaiety with faltering voices, and darken 
 assemblies of pleasure Avith the ghastliness of disease, they may 
 well expect those who find their diversions obstructed, will hoot 
 them away ; and that if they descend to competition with youth, 
 they must bear the insolence of successful rivals.'! 
 
 " Religion also, must be regarded as the best preparation for 
 that end of life, with which old age is so closely connected. 
 
 * 2 Cor. vi. 10. t Dr. Johnson. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 68 
 
 However proper it may be to realize this eventful time, at every 
 period from our earliest to our latest day, it cannot but be re- 
 garded as more certainly and evidently near at an advanced age. 
 Anna, after the lapse of a century, had greater reason, surely, to 
 apprehend her dissolution, than in the bloom of youth, or at the 
 commencement of her widowhood : and howappaling the prospect ! 
 
 It would diminish the impression we have of the terror of 
 death, if his dominion were limited to a part of the world, or to 
 any ascertainable extent of years ; but, while his authority con- 
 tinues unimpaired, and his stroke irresistible, the power he is 
 permitted to exercise over humankind is universal. In visiting 
 the repositories of the dead, it is calculated to awaken our live- 
 liest sensibilities to trace the reign of the "king of terrors" upon 
 the sepulchral stone, or the marble monument. In characters 
 which time has almost erased, we read the records of the past, 
 and by a more than probable analogy penetrate some of the 
 mysteries of the future. Here and there occur the names of 
 those who were venerable for age, remarkable for their exploits, 
 conspicuous by their station, rank, or talent — great by the con- 
 sent of their contemporaries — who once figured upon a stage 
 which is now decayed, or were illustrious in an empire w' hich is 
 now passed away. Some have been smitten by death's wither- 
 ing hand at an earlier, some at a later period of life. Adjoining 
 the grave of age is the tomb of youth. There you see the stone 
 half buried in accumulating heaps of earth, and the inscriptions 
 of love and tenderness obscured by collecting moss ; while the 
 hand that wrote them has long since become motionless, and the 
 heart that dictated them ceased to beat. 
 
 It is affecting to visit places of public resort, under the full 
 influence of the consideration, that this busy and anxious croAvd 
 will soon disappear — their race will be run, and the immortal 
 prize gained or lost ! These possessors of the soil w^ill, in a 
 little time, be disinherited — these tenants of a day exchanged — 
 the funeral pall will cover the most ambitious, and the most ac- 
 tive of them all, and the motley multitude be succeeded by others 
 equally busy, equally anxious, equally thoughtless of another 
 state of being — and equally mortal ! 
 
64 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 But these sentiments, however calculated to fill irreligious 
 persons with dread and melancholy, can produce no despondency 
 in those who, like Anna, are accustomed to the truths of religion, 
 and derive the chief pleasures both of their youthful and decrepit 
 age from the services of religion. With regard to death itself, 
 they are taught that his power is limited to the body, and that it 
 is restricted even to a short period over this inferior part of our 
 nature; and as to its consequences, they cannot incessantly fre- 
 quent the temple, and be occupied in devotion, without learning 
 the value, as well as the reality, of those considerations which 
 are drawn from eternity. They know that 'this corruptible 
 shall put on incorruption, this mortal put on immortality,' and 
 that then 'there shall be no more death.'* And what do these 
 expressions imply, but the entire renovation of our nature ? Man 
 is mortal, because he is sinful ; and, consequently, the removal 
 of sin will prove the extinction of death. It is only by the 
 introduction of moral evil that the earth has been converted into 
 a vast cemetery, and life become a short and rugged passage to 
 the sepulchre ; but, when it shall no longer prevail, our sanctified 
 nature will inherit the abodes of purity and undecaying existence. 
 " It is this consideration which endears celestial felicity. Ex- 
 emption from death implies deliverance from sin, and the Chris- 
 tian wishes to possess a character which God shall approve, and 
 to be cleansed from those stains of guilt which infect his present 
 being, and render him offensive to his father in heaven. Were 
 he destined always to be unholy, he would scarcely contemplate 
 immortality as a blessing ; but because he has reason to antici- 
 pate ' awaking' from the sleep of the grave, in the divine ' like- 
 ness,'! he realizes a period in the bright annals of his future 
 being, when he shall no longer have occasion to exclaim, ' O 
 wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body 
 of this death ?' + 
 
 " The pains of separation too, which afflict this mortal state, 
 cannot exist in that ' better country.' Society will unquestiona- 
 bly prove one considerable source of the happiness of heaven, 
 
 * 1 Cor. XV. 54. Rev. xxi. 4. t Ps. xvii. 15. t Rom. vii. 24. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 65 
 
 where immortal beings will be so circumstanced and capacitated, 
 as both to receive and impart enjoyment. The very nature of 
 man is constituted social : and thousfh our circumstances in this 
 life often render temporary separations unavoidable, in a perfect 
 state of society they must be needless ; consequently they will 
 not be suffered to impair the joys of paradise. 
 
 '• The most afflictive of all separations, is that which is occa- 
 sioned by death. In all other cases, a lingering hope may exist 
 of a re-union at some period, however distant ; at least the possi- 
 bility of it is cheering : but, even if there be no reasonable 
 expectation of this, the very consciousness that our friend is still 
 alive, still ^on earth, still capable of receiving and performing 
 acts of kindness, still able to communicate with us by letter or 
 by message, to participate in our pleasures, to sympathize with our 
 sorrows, and to pray for our welfare, is consoling in every vicis- 
 situde; but when death sets his awful seal upon our companion, 
 relative, or friend, we cherish a deeper feeling of grief, and can- 
 not look to any earthly means of consolation : but we can look 
 to a heavenly one ! Whatever resource fails, the religion of the 
 bible supplies inexhaustible springs of comfort. God is on high 
 — JesQS 'ever lives' — christians know they shall soon pass into 
 a world, where the happy circle will never be broken, the com- 
 munion of kindred spirits never cease, the day of blessedness 
 never decline, the sabbath of immortality never terminate. 
 
 " It is in the temple also, that those who, like Anna, receive 
 
 just impressions from its services, and live in a state of holy 
 
 intercourse with God, learn to appreciate the capacities of a 
 
 spiritual mind for progression in wisdom and felicity, and by 
 
 consequence, to cherish the noblest anticipations of their own 
 
 future possible elevation of character. How many unfinished 
 
 schemes are frustrated by death ! Our plans of futurity, our 
 
 purposes of gain, or our resolves of usefulness, may be ended in 
 
 one short hour. Here the labors of the industrious, the studies 
 
 of the learned, the investigations of the philosopher, and the 
 
 career of the pious, close. The grave silences the voice of the 
 
 preacher, and paralyzes the hand of the charitable. Here the 
 
 arguments of a Paul end — here the silver tongue of an Apollos 
 
 6* 
 
66 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 is speechless — here the hands of a Dorcas cease to manufactur«» 
 for the poor, whose unavailing tears cannot recall departed piety. 
 
 " But who will define the limits of possible attainment in 
 knowledge and excellence in a state of deathless existence? 
 Society is always improving, even in the present world, amidst 
 all its imperfections. The researches of past ages have 
 transmitted a vast stock of wisdom to their successors, both in 
 reference to natural science and religious truth. Who can tell 
 what discoveries a Newton might have made, had he possessed 
 a terrestrial immortality? or who can conceive what heights and 
 depths of divine knowledge might have been disclosed, had the 
 apostles of Christ been premitted to live to the present period, 
 and had it been the will of God that they should have received 
 a constant succession of revelations ? 
 
 " In both these cases, not only has death terminated this series 
 of bright discovery, but this earth is not the destined place, nor 
 time the destined period, for those manifestatiofis of eternal wis- 
 dom, which we have reason to believe will take place in another 
 world. Those impediments to knowledge, and those reasons for 
 concealment, which at present exist, will be removed, and truth 
 open all her treasures to immortalized and sanctified spirits. 
 
 " The consequence of the progressive disclosure of spiritual 
 things, of the works and ways of God, will be progressive im- 
 provement: and, as in consequence of the clearer developement 
 of truth in the gospel, ' he who is least in the kingdom of heaven, 
 is greater than John the Baptist ;' so, when all the shadows 
 and clouds that bedim our present existence shall have disap- 
 peared, and a ray of heaven pours its glorious illumination upon 
 the mysteries of time, the least in the paradise of God will be 
 greater than the most distinguished in his church on earth. And 
 as we shall never cease to improve in knowledge — for there will 
 be no termination to our spiritual researches — there will prob- 
 ably arrive a period in eternity, when he who, at the resurrection, 
 will be least in the heavenly world, in capacity and glory, will 
 become greater, in consequence of ever new discoveries, than at 
 that moment will be the greatest of the redeemed universe. And 
 the meanest Christian on earth may indulge the hope, that, at a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRArHY. 67 
 
 future age, even he may become superior in knowledge, in love, 
 in capacity, and in glory, to what the brightest seraph, or the 
 tallest archangel, is, at present, in the heaven of heavens ; for who 
 can tell what God may do for beatified souls ? Who dare limit 
 the operations of his mercy, or who can imagine to what an ele- 
 vation of wisdom and felicity an emparadised believer may attain? 
 
 " Progression is the law of a thinking being. And why 
 should it not operate upon holy intelligences in the future state, 
 as well as in the present ? and why not when ' there shall be no 
 more death,'* to an incalculably greater extent? Why should 
 not every new idea, acquired in that world, become a seed of 
 truth in the mind, that shall spring up and bear fruit, multiply 
 and expand, without restriction and without end? 
 
 " There is not in religion a nobler, or a more animating sen- 
 timent, than this perpetual advancement of the soul towards per- 
 fection. Life has its maturity and decline, nature its boundaries 
 of beauty, human affairs their zenith of glory ; but, in ' the new 
 heavens and new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness,'! every 
 thing will be eternally upon the advance — there will be no end 
 to the path of knowledge — present acquisitions will be the basis 
 of subsequent acquirements — we shall be continually outshining 
 ourselves, by making nearer approaches to infinite goodness — 
 and the whole moral creation will be for ever beautifying in the 
 eyes of God." 
 
 Jeanne D'Arragon, one of the most celebrated Italian ladies 
 of the age, and married to a prince of the house of Colonna, 
 was mother of the famous Marc Anthony Colonna, who signal- 
 ized himself at the battle of Lepanto, against the Turks. She is 
 famous by the elegies composed to her honor by the greatest 
 wits of her time, and in most languages, as Greek, Latin, Italian, 
 French, Spanish, Sclavonic, Polonese, Hungarian, and even 
 Hebrew and Chaldean, one of the most singular monuments, 
 undoubtedly, that gallantry ever raised to female merit. This 
 homage was decreed her in 1555, at Venice, in the academy of 
 
 *Rev. xxi. 4. t2. Pet. iii. 13. 
 
68 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Dubiosi, and published there in 1558, under the title of Templo 
 alia divina Arragona. She died very aged, in 1577. 
 
 AsPAsiA, the daughter of Axiochus, was born at Miletus. She 
 came to Athens, where she taught eloquence. Socrates was 
 proud to be among her scholars. The great Pericles became 
 her pupil, and was so enamored with her, that he married her, 
 and for many years was governed by her wisdom and eloquence. 
 She has been called a courtezan ; but probably after ages have 
 mistaken the moral conduct of this fair, from a fact in the his- 
 tory and laws of the Athenians, which would not suffer a foreign 
 woman to marry an Athenian ; and as she v/as married to Peri- 
 cles against that law, that the severe and envious called hard 
 names, without much reason, as they have done in every age 
 since, and others love to repeat them. But it is impossible that 
 so moral a man as Socrates, and so wise a man as Pericles,. 
 should have cherished an intimacy with one of an abandoned 
 character. If a female moves in an exalted sphere, she is 
 always subject to calumny. She felt no disposition to save her 
 fame by seeking a nunnery, or any other seclusion. Modern 
 times should do justice, and fear not to " pluck the wizzard beard 
 of hoary error." 
 
 Ann Amelia, princess of Prussia, sister to Frederick the 
 great, born in 1723, died 1787. She distinguished herself by 
 her taste for the arts. She set to music " The death of the Mes- 
 siah" by Romler. She was a decided friend to the far-famed 
 Baron Trenck ; and there can be no doubt, but that this attach- 
 ment for the princess, was the cause of Trenck's misfortunes. 
 Frederick was incensed that a subject should aspire to the hand 
 of his sister. She continued her attachment to Trenck when both 
 had grown old, and Frederick was in his grave, but death de- 
 prived her of providing for Trenck's children as she intended. 
 
 Anyta, an ancient Greek poetess, some fragments of whose 
 compositions are preserved in a collection of eminent female 
 poets, published in Hamburgh, in 1734. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 69 
 
 Maria Melleville Allen, wife of William Allen, D. D., 
 late president of Bowdoin College, was the daughter of John 
 Wheelock, LL. D., second president of Dartmouth College. 
 She was the only child of her parents, and the object of their 
 fondest affections ; of course, she was indulged in every whim, 
 even while they supposed they were putting her under strict 
 discipline. Possessing a fine constitution, and an amiable dis- 
 position, she was as lovely as the wild flower of her native hills, 
 and buoyant as the air she breathed. Her enmities were as 
 transient as a passing cloud, and her friendship's as sweet as a 
 summer's sun. Reputed to be wealthy, and acknowledged to be 
 handsome, she had a host of admirers, when only a child, " who , 
 felt or feigned a flame ;" with those who followed in her train, 
 she laughed an hour away, and every day saw some new ad- 
 mirer ; but she was not married until she had reached the mature 
 age of twenty-six, when she was united to Dr. Allen, who is 
 still living. Mr. Allen was her own and her father's choice; 
 Dr. Wheelock could have none but a scholar for a son-in-law, 
 and she had too long been acquainted with literary men to wed 
 one not devoted to letters. The marriage was hailed as one 
 most suitable, by all their friends, and there can be no doubt but 
 her life was a happy one. She was a religious woman, and 
 softened the ills of life, such as she was called to suffer in the 
 death of parents and friends, by the precepts and consolations of 
 the gospel she professed. In married life, as in single, she was 
 the charm of the social circle. Her talents were of no ordinary 
 cast, yet she seemed never to think of herself as one having any 
 particular gifts of fortune. She died in 1829, aged forty years, 
 leaving her husband with several children. There are those 
 who cherish her memory as maiden, and matron, and friend. 
 
 Abassa, sister of Haroun Al Raschid, Caliph of Bagdad. 
 She was one of the loveliest of Arabian women, skilled in all 
 the learning of her age. She was married to Giafar, of an 
 illustrious race, but falling under the displeasure of her brother, 
 her husband was slain, and she was banished from the city, and 
 buried in exile and poverty. Among the fragments of the Ara- 
 
70 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 bian muse is a poem on her beauty, talents, and misfortunes, 
 which stamps as a tyrant, in her case, the name of Raschid ; 
 which is otherwise elevated and brilliant in the history of the 
 ninth century. 
 
 Abigail Adams. — The following character of Mrs. Adams 
 was drawn by the editor of this work, near the time of the death 
 of this excellent woman, and published in the New England 
 Galaxy, and was copied into the Port Folio of February, 1819, 
 with the following remarks : — 
 
 " In the ensuing article, an unknown writer has pronounced 
 the eulogium of eminent virtues, combined with a masculine 
 understanding, and adorned with all the courtesies of polished 
 society. We have heard many, who had both the means and 
 the power to form an estimate of the character of this distin- 
 guished lady, expatiate in terms of affectionate regard and pro- 
 found respect, on the admirable qualities of Mrs. Adams. Our 
 personal observation is in unison with these sentiments, and we 
 therefore contribute our feeble aid to perpetuate the memory of 
 a lady who, as the companion of one statesman, and the guide 
 of another, is entitled to no ordinary rank in the scroll of Ameri- 
 can matrons." 
 
 " Mrs. Adams was the daughter of a New-England clergy- 
 man settled within a few miles of Boston : a man respectable in 
 his holy office, and who educated his children in the best man- 
 ner of the times. The personal and mental accomplishments of 
 his daughter attracted the attention and secured the affection of 
 Mr. Adams, then a young man of distinction at the bar in Mas- 
 sachusetts. They were married in the year 1764, and resided 
 in Boston. The revolutionary difficulties were then fast in- 
 creasing, and Mr. Adams was conspicuously engaged. i;jWhen a 
 continental congress was formed, he was sent a delegate from 
 Massachusetts to this body. It was a perilous moment. The 
 wise were baffled, the courageous hesitated, and the great mass 
 of the people were inflamed, but confused : they had no fixed 
 and settled purpose, but all was left for the development of time. 
 Mr. Adams was one of the boldest in the march of honest resist- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 71 
 
 ance to tyranny. He looked farther than the business of the 
 day, and ventured at that early period, to suggest plans of self- 
 government and independence. To Mrs. Adams he communi- 
 cated his thoughts freely on all these high matters of state, for 
 he had the fullest confidence in her fortitude, prudence, secrecy, 
 and good sense, without the test which the Roman Portia gave 
 her lord, to gain his confidence in matters of policy, 'when the 
 state was out of joint.' When Mr. Adams was appointed to 
 represent his country at the court of St. James, his Avife went 
 with him, and such was her exquisite sense of propriety, her 
 republican simplicity, her delicate and refined manners, her 
 firmness and dignity, that she charmed the proud circles in which 
 she moved, and they speak of her, to this day, as one of the 
 finest women that ever graced an embassy to that country. 
 
 "When Mr. Adams was chosen vice-president, she was the 
 same unaffected, intelligent, and elegant woman. No little 
 managements, no private views, no sly interference with public 
 aflTairs, was ever, for a moment, charged to her. When her hus- 
 band came to the chair of the chief magistrate, the widest field 
 opened for the exercise of all the talents and acquirements of 
 Mrs. Adams ; and her fondest admirers were not disappointed. 
 She graced the table by her courtesy and elegance of manners, 
 and delighted her guests by the powers of her conversation. 
 Through the drawing-room she diffused ease and urbanity, 
 and gave the charm of modesty and sincerity, to the interchanges 
 of civility. But this was not all ; her acquaintance with public 
 affairs, her discrimination of character, her discernment of the 
 signs of the times, and her pure patriotism, made her an excellent 
 cabinet minister; and, to the honor of her husband, he never 
 forgot nor undervalued her worth. The politicians of that period 
 speak with enthusiasm of her foresight, her prudence, and the 
 wisdom of her observations. Tracy respected, Bayard admired, 
 and Ames eulogized her. All parties had the fullest confidence 
 in the purity of her motives, and in the elevation of her under- 
 standing. It was a stormy period. Fatigue and anguish often 
 overwhelmed the president, from the weight and multiplicity of 
 his labors and cares ; but her sensibility, affection, and cheerful- 
 
72 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ness, chased the frown from his brow, and plucked the root of 
 bitterness from his heart. To those who see the matters of state 
 at a distance, or through the medium of letters, all things seem 
 to go on fairly and smoothly; but those who are practically 
 acquainted with the difficulty of administering the best of govern- 
 ments, will easily understand how much necessity there is for 
 the wisdom of the serpent, united with the gentleness of the dove ; 
 and they too can comprehend how much the delicate interference 
 of a sagacious woman can effect. Pride, vanity, and selfishness 
 are full of claims and exactions, all bustling and importunate 
 for office and distinction. Peremptory denial produces enmity 
 and confusion, but gentle evasion and cautious replies soften the 
 hearts of the restless, and temper the passions of the sanguine. 
 An intelligent woman can control these repinings, and hush 
 these murmurings with much less sacrifice or effort than men. 
 A woman knows when to apply the unction of soft words, 
 without forgetting her dignity, or infringing on a single princi- 
 ple which the most scrupulous would wish to maintain. Mrs. 
 Adams calmed these agitations of disappointment, healed the 
 rankling wound of offended pride, and left men in admiration 
 of her talents, and in love with her sincerity. Notwithstanding 
 these numerous duties and great exertions as the wife of a states- 
 man, Mrs. Adams did not forget that she was a parent. She 
 had several children, and felt in them the pride and interest, if 
 she did not make the boast of the mother of the Gracchi. Many 
 women fill important stations with the m.ost splendid display of 
 virtues; but few are equally great in retirement; there they 
 want the animating influence of a thousand eyes, and the inspi- 
 ration of homage and flattery. This is human nature in its 
 common form, and the exception is honorable and rare. Mrs. 
 Adams, in rural seclusion at Q,uincy, was the same dignified, 
 sensible, and happy woman, as when surrounded by fashion, 
 wit, and intellect. No hectic of resentment, no pangs of regret 
 were ever discovered by her, while indulging in the retrospec- 
 tion of an eventful life, in these shades of retirement. Her 
 conversation showed the same lively interest in the passing- 
 occurrences, as though she had retired for a day only, and was 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 73 
 
 to have returned on the morro\y to take her share in the busi- 
 ness and pleasures of political existence, There was no trick, 
 no disguise in this. It arose from a settled, and perfectly philo- 
 sophical and christian contentment, which great minds only can 
 feel. Serenity, purity, and elevation of thought preserve the 
 faculties of the mind from premature decay, and, indeed, keep 
 them vigorous in old age. To such, the lapse of time is only 
 the change of the shadow on the dial of life. 
 
 " The hours which are numbered and gone are noticed, but 
 their flight does not " chill the genial current of the soul." 
 Religious thankfulness for the past, and faith in assurances for 
 the future, make " the last drop in the cup of existence clear, 
 sweet, and sparkling." 
 
 Anne Bradstreet, the first female who ventured to publish 
 a volume of poems in this country, was a daughter of Thomas 
 Dudley, who was chosen governor of Massachusetts several 
 times, from 1634 to 1650. Anne was born at Northampton, in 
 England, in 1612; and was married there in 1628, to Simon 
 Bradstreet, who was afterwards governor of the province also. 
 Anne had received an excellent education ; her father and hus- 
 band were both good scholars, but men of different habits ; her 
 father was inflexible and intolerant, and severe in his opinions 
 of others. In the early part of his administration as chief ma- 
 gistrate, he showed his zeal against heretics, and this disposition 
 continued through life ; for, after his death, this singular senti- 
 ment, expressed, as he would have called it, in verse, was found 
 in his pocket : 
 
 " Let men of God, in courts and churches watch. 
 
 O'er such as do a toleration hatch. 
 
 Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice. 
 
 To poison all with heresy and vice. 
 
 If men be left, and otherwise combine, 
 
 My epitaph's — I die no libertine." 
 
 Under the eye of such a father Anne Dudley received her 
 
 first impressions of learning and religion, but she married Simon 
 
 7 
 
74 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Bradstreet at the early age of sixteen, whose mind was of a 
 different cast, and whose disposition was gentle and affectionate. 
 He was one of the most tolerant of all the puritan school. With 
 this mild and amiable man she lived forty-four years, and was 
 the mother of eight children. Blessed with fine natural powers 
 of understanding, early disciplined in a severe school of think- 
 ing, she displayed extraordinary talents ; and from her situation, 
 associated with all the distinguished persons of the age in which 
 she lived. At the age of thirty she published a volume of po- 
 ems, which were thought " a miracle of wit and learningP 
 It seems at that time the title page of a book was under the con- 
 trol of the publisher, or printer, or otherwise one so modest as 
 Anne Bradstreet, would not have ventured on such a title page 
 as graced this early American offering to the muse. 
 
 The title is, " Several Poems compiled with great variety of 
 wit and learning, full of delight ; wherein especially is contained 
 a complete discourse and description of the four elements, con- 
 stitutions, ages of man, seasons of the year, together with an 
 exact epitome of the three first monarchies, viz; the Assyrian, 
 the Persian, Grecian, and Roman Commonwealth, from the be- 
 ginning to the end of their last kings ; with divers other pleasant 
 and serious poems, by a gentlewoman of New England." The 
 most learned divines of the day were her admirers. Norton, a 
 nreeminent scholar of the day, wrote these complimentary verses, 
 which expressed the general opinion of the readers of Mrs 
 Bradstreet's works ; for, although these poems were anonymous, 
 it was as well known who was the author of them, as it wat 
 who wrote the cantos of Don Juan, a few years ago, beforr 
 Lord Byron acknowledged them : Her eulogist says : 
 
 " Her breast was a brave palace, a broad street, 
 Where all heroic, ample thoughts did meet ; 
 Where nature such a tenement had ta'en, 
 That other souls to her's dwelt in a lane," 
 
 The eulogist did not confine himself to verse, for he expatiated 
 in prose, and declared the poetry of this wonderful woman was 
 so fine, that were Maro to hear it, he would again condemn his 
 works to the fire. This praise seems to us at the present day, 
 
FEMALE BIOGIU.PHY. 7IX 
 
 not a little extravagant; but the writer had heard nothing in the 
 way of poetry for several years, but those shocking attempts of 
 Elliot and Welde to translate the psalms of David into English 
 verse; and any thing that had sense with a little rhyme, no 
 doubt gave him great pleasure. She was as learned as her 
 coadjutors, and vastly more poetical. In 1658 a third edition 
 of these works were published. The preface to this edition 
 contains these words : " It is the work of a woman honored and 
 esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanor, her emi- 
 nent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her 
 exact diligence in her place, and discreet management of her 
 family occasions ; and more so, these poems are the fruits of a 
 few hours curtailed from her sleep, and other refreshments." 
 Although she made no great efforts, according to these accounts, 
 to write poetry, the highest praise is her due, and she may fairly 
 be placed at the head of the American poets of that age. 
 
 Let the reader examine the poem we have selected, and then 
 say whether we are correct or not. 
 
 CONTEMPLATIONS. 
 
 Some time now past in the Autumnal Tide, 
 
 When Phoebus wanted but one hour to bed, 
 
 The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride, 
 
 Where gilded o'er by his rich golden head. 
 
 Their leaves and fruits seem'd painted, but was true 
 
 Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hue, 
 
 Wrapt were my senses at this delectable view. 
 
 I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, 
 
 If so much excellence abide below ; 
 
 How excellent is He that dwells on high ! 
 
 Whose power and beauty by his works we know. 
 
 Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light. 
 
 That hath this under world so richly dight : 
 
 More heaven than earth was here no winter and no night. 
 
 Then on a stately oak I cast mine eye. 
 Whose ruffling top the clouds seem'd to aspire; 
 How long since thou wast in thine infancy ? 
 Thy strength, and stature more thy years admire. 
 Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born 7 
 Or thousand since thou brak'st thy shell of horn, 
 If so, all these as nought, eternitv doth scorn. 
 
76 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Then higher on the gUstering sun I gaz'd, 
 
 Whose beams were shaded by the leavie tree, 
 
 The more I look'd, the more I grew amaz'd, 
 
 And softly said, what glory's like to theel 
 
 Soul of this world, this Universe's eye, 
 
 No wonder, some made thee a deity ; 
 
 Had I not better known, (alas) the same had I. 
 
 Thou as a bridegroom from thy chamber rushest, 
 
 And as a strong man, joyes to run a race, 
 
 The morn doth usher thee, with smiles and blushes, 
 
 The earth reflects her glances in thy face. 
 
 Birds, insects, animals with vegetive, 
 
 Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive : 
 
 And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive. 
 
 Thy swift annual, and diurnal course, 
 
 Thy daily straight, and yearly oblique path, 
 
 Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching force, 
 
 All mortals here the feeling knowledge hath. 
 
 Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night, 
 
 Quaternal seasons caused by thy might : 
 
 Hail creature, full of sweetness, beauty and delight. 
 
 Art thou so full of glory, that no eye 
 
 Hath strength, thy shining rayes once to behold 1 
 
 And is thy splended throne erect so high 1 
 
 As to approach it, can no earthly mould. 
 
 How full of glory then must thy Creator be, 
 
 Who gave this bright Ught lustre unto thee ! 
 
 Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty. 
 
 Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard, 
 
 In pathless paths I lead my wandering feet. 
 
 My humble eyes to lofty skyes I rear'd 
 
 To sing some song, my mazed Muse thought meet. 
 
 My great Creator I would magnifie, 
 
 That nature had, thus decked liberally : 
 
 But Ah, and Ah, again, my imbecility ! 
 
 I heard the merry grasshopper then sing. 
 
 The black clad cricket, bear a second part, 
 
 They kept one tune and plaid on the same string, 
 
 Seeming to glory in their little art. 
 
 Shall creatures abject, thus their voices raise ? 
 
 And in their kind resound their maker's praise: 
 
 Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layes. 
 
 When present times look back to ages past, 
 And men in being fancy those are dead, 
 It makes things gone perpetually to last. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 77 
 
 And calls back months and years that long since fled. 
 
 It makes a man more aged in conceit, 
 
 Than was Methuselah, or 's grand-sire great; 
 
 While of their persons and their acts his mind doth treat. 
 
 Sometimes in Eden fair he seems to be, 
 Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all, 
 Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree, 
 That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral. 
 Who like a miscreant 's driven from that place, 
 To get his bread with pain, and sweat of face : 
 A penalty imposed on his backshding race. 
 
 Here sits our Grandame in retired place, 
 And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born, 
 The weeping Imp oft looks her in the face. 
 Bewails his unknown hap, and fate forlorne ; 
 His mother sighs, to think of Paradise, 
 And how she lost her bUss, to be more wise, 
 Believing him that was, and is. Father of lyes. 
 
 Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice, 
 
 Fruits of the earth, and fatlings each do bring ; 
 
 On Abel's gift the fire decends from skies, 
 
 But no such sign on false Cain's offering; 
 
 With sullen hateful looks he goes his wayes. 
 
 Hath thousand thoughts to end his brother's dayes. 
 
 Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to raise. 
 
 There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks. 
 
 His brother comes, then acts his fratricide, 
 
 The Virgin Earth of blood her first draught drinksj 
 
 But since that time she often hath been cloy'd ; 
 
 The wretch with ghastly face and dreadful mind, 
 
 Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind, 
 
 Though none on Earth but kindred near then could he find. 
 
 Who fancyes not his looks now at the barr. 
 
 His face like death, his heart with horror fraught 
 
 Nor male-factor ever felt like warr, 
 
 When deep despair, with wish of life hath sought, 
 
 Branded with guilt, and crush t with treble woes, 
 
 A vagabond to Land of Nod he goes, 
 
 A city builds, that wals might him secure from foes. 
 
 Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages. 
 Their long descent, how nephew's sons they saw 
 The starry observations of those Sages, 
 And how their precepts to their sons were Iaw» 
 How Adam sighed to see his progeny, 
 7* 
 
78 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Clothed all in his black sinfull livery, 
 
 Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could fly. 
 
 Our liife compare we with their length of dayes, 
 
 Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive 1 
 
 And though thus short, we shorten many ways, 
 
 Living so little while we are alive ; 
 
 In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight, 
 
 So unawares comes on pei-petual night, 
 
 And puts all pleasures vain into eternal flight. 
 
 When I behold the heavens as in their prime, 
 
 And then the earth (though old) still clad in green, 
 
 The stones and trees, insensible of time. 
 
 Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen ; 
 
 If winter come, and greenness then do fade, 
 
 A Spring returns, and they more youthfull made ; 
 
 But Man grows old, hes down, remains where once he's laid. 
 
 By birth more noble than those creatures all. 
 
 Yet seems by nature and by custome cursed. 
 
 No sooner born, but grief and care make fall 
 
 That state obliterate he had at first. 
 
 Nor youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring again, 
 
 Nor habitations long their names retain, 
 
 But in obUvion to the final day remain. 
 
 Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees, the earth, 
 Because their beauty and their strength last longer 7 
 Shall I wish their, or never to had birth. 
 Because they're bigger, and their bodyes stronger 7 
 Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and dye, 
 And when unmade, soever shall they lye. 
 But man was made for endless immortality. 
 
 Under the coohng shadow of a stately elm 
 
 Close sate I by a goodly River's side. 
 
 Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm; 
 
 A lonely place, with pleasures dignified. 
 
 I once thatlov'd the shady woods so well 
 
 Now thought the rivers did the trees excell. 
 
 And if the sun would ever shine, there would I dwell. 
 
 While on the stealing stream I fixed mine eye, 
 Which to the long'd-for Ocean held its course, 
 I markt nor crooks, nor rubs that there did lye 
 Could hinder aught, but still augment its force : 
 O happy Flood, quoth I, that holdst thy race 
 Till thou arrive at thy beloved place. 
 Nor is it focks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 79 
 
 Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st slide, 
 But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet, 
 So hand in hand along with thee they glide 
 To Thetis' house, where all embrace and greet : 
 Thou Emblem true, of what I count the best, 
 
 could I lead my Rivulets to rest. 
 
 So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest. 
 
 Ye Fish which in this liquid region 'bide. 
 
 That for each season have your habitation, 
 
 Now salt, now fresh, where you think best to glide, 
 
 To unknown coasts to give a visitation, 
 
 In lakes and ponds, you leave your numerous fry, 
 
 So nature taught, and yet you know not why. 
 
 You watry folk that know not your felicity. 
 
 Look how the wantons frisk to taste the air 
 
 Then to the colder bottome straight they dive, 
 
 Eftsoon to Neptune's glassie Hall repair 
 
 To see what trade the great ones there do drive, 
 
 Who forage o'er the spacious sea-green field, 
 
 And take the trembling prey before it yield. 
 
 Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins their shield. 
 
 While musing thus with contemplation fed, 
 And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, 
 The sweet-tongued Philomel percht o'er my head, 
 And chanted forth a most melodious strain 
 Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, 
 
 1 judg'd my hearing better than my sight, 
 
 And wisht me wings with her a while to take my flight. 
 
 O merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares, 
 
 That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn. 
 
 Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cares 
 
 To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm ; 
 
 Thy cloaths ne'er wear, thy meat is every where, 
 
 Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water cleer, 
 
 Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear. 
 
 The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent,* 
 
 Setts hundred notes unto thy feather' d crew, 
 
 So each one tunes his pretty instrument, 
 
 And warbling out the old begins anew. 
 
 And thus they pass their youth in summer season. 
 
 Then follow thee into a better Region, 
 
 Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion. 
 
 * i. e. Anticipate. 
 
80 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Man's at the best a creature frail and vain, 
 
 In knowledge ignorant, in strength but weak : 
 
 Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain, 
 
 Each storm his state, his mind, his body break : 
 
 From some of these he never finds cessation, 
 
 But day or night, within, without, vexation, 
 
 Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest, near'st Relation. 
 
 And yet this sinfull creature, frail, and vain, 
 
 This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow, 
 
 This weather-beaten vessel wrackt with pain, 
 
 Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow : 
 
 Nor all his losses, crosses and vexation. 
 
 In weight, in frequency and long duration 
 
 Can make him deeply groan for that divine Translation. 
 
 The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide. 
 Sings merrily, and steers his bark with ease, 
 As if he had command of wind and tide. 
 And now become great Master of the seas; 
 But suddenly a storm spoils all the sport, 
 And makes him long for a more quiet port, 
 ' Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort. 
 
 So he that saileth in this world of pleasure. 
 Feeding on sweets that never bit of th' sowre. 
 That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure. 
 Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'ns bower. 
 But sad affliction comes and makes him see 
 : Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety ; 
 
 Only above is found all with security. 
 
 O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, 
 
 That draws obhvion's curtains over kings. 
 
 Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, 
 
 Their names without a record are forgot. 
 
 Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th' dust 
 
 Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape time's rust ; 
 
 But he whose name is grav'd in the white stone 
 
 Shall last and shine when all of these are gone. 
 
 It should be remembered that there were no models in Eng- 
 lish verse at the time Anne Bradstreet wrote. She was not 
 probably acquainted with Shakspeare, as a poet, ahhough he 
 died when she was four years of age; but the puritans could 
 know nothing of the works of a player. When she published 
 hei works, Milton had not written, or certainly was not known as 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 81 
 
 an author of distinction. Chaucer and Spencer were the only- 
 guides at that time. Perhaps we should except Francis Quarles, 
 who was twenty years senior to Mrs, Bradstreet, and had 
 written and published several works previous to the appearance 
 of her volume. His "Emblems," and " Divine Fancies," with 
 all their quaintness, have a good share of poetical merit in them ; 
 and from several terms of expression, used by her, there can 
 be no doubt but that she had read them. The phrase, " fond 
 fool," which she used, is often found in Q,uarles' "Emblems", and 
 is applied in the same sense by both, meaning one enamored 
 with the world, and neglectful of spiritual things. 
 
 Anne Bradstreet had a sister who was married to a clergy- 
 man by the name of Woodbridge, who preached both in An- 
 dover, in the county of Essex, in Massachusetts, and also in 
 Newbury, in the same county. She also wrote poetry; but 
 congratulated Mrs. Bradstreet on her publication, as looking up 
 to her as a superior being to herself, and favored by the muses, 
 beyond all females of her time. Mrs. Bradstreet died at the age 
 of sixty, before the country had been agitated with the subject 
 of witch-craft. The proceedings, upon which her honest hus- 
 band, in his old age, most stoutly opposed, against the opinions 
 of Mather and Phipps, two mighty names in church and state. 
 
 More than a century passed away before another female poet 
 arose in this country, worthy of being mentioned with Anne 
 Bradstreet. Mercy Warren did not publish her dramas, and 
 other works, until more than a hundred and twenty years after 
 the poems of Anne Bradstreet had been known to the public. 
 The night of darkness has gone, and numerous female votaries 
 of the muses have arisen to delight and enchant the lovers of 
 taste. 
 
 Blanche or Castile, queen of France, was daughter of 
 Alphonso IX., king of Castile, who married her, in 1200, to 
 Louis VIII., king of France. She was the mother of nine sons 
 and two daughters, whom she educated with great care, and in 
 such sentiments of piety, that two of them, Louis IX., and 
 Elizabeth, have been beatified by the church of Rome. If thi 
 
82 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 honor be such as no mortal deserves, still, it is a proof of a 
 holy life. On the death of her husband, Blanche, in 1226, 
 became regent, during the minority of her son Louis, then 
 twelve years of age. In this arduous situation, when the great 
 lords of the kingdom were affecting independence, she acted 
 with equal prudence and vigor ; opposing some in arms, and gain- 
 ing over others with presents, and condescensions. In educating 
 the young king, she was charged with putting too much into the 
 hands of the clergy, and encouraging that superstitious turn, 
 which afterwards caused so many calamities ; but she proved an 
 excellent guardian of his virtue, and inspired him with rever- 
 ence for religion, which never quitted him. When Louis, in 
 1248, undertook his expedition to the Holy Land, Blanche 
 was again created regent of the kingdom, and governed with 
 great prudence. His unfortunate defeat and imprisonment, how- 
 ever, threw affairs into confusion, and so much affected her 
 spirits, that she died in 1252, to his great grief, and to the regret 
 of the whole kingdom. She was, doubtless, one of the most 
 illustrious characters of her time; possessed both of firmness 
 and dexterity in the management of affairs, and eminent for 
 personal and mental endowments ; yet she was not free from 
 haughtiness, and inordinate love of power, and her piety was 
 strongly tinctured with the weakness of the age in which she 
 lived. 
 
 Blanche, a native of Padua, celebrated for her chastity. 
 After the death of her husband, at the siege of Bassano, she 
 refused to gratify the passion of Acciolin, the general of the 
 enemy ; and when he offered violence to her person, she threw 
 herself into her husband's tomb, where she was crushed to death 
 by the falling of the stone which covered the entrance. 
 
 BoADicEA, a British queen, in the time of Nero, was wife to 
 Prasutagus, king of the Iceni, that is Norfolk, Suffolk, Cam- 
 bridge, and Huntingdonshire. Prasutagus, in order to secure 
 the friendship and protection of Nero to his wife and family, 
 left the emperor and his daughter co-heirs. But no sooner was 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 83 
 
 he in his grave, than the emperor's officers seized upon nis effects 
 in their masters name. Boadicea, widow of the deceased king, 
 strongly remonstrated against these unjust proceedings ; hut her 
 complaints were so far from being heard, or her grievances 
 redressed, that she found herself exposed to farther wrongs and 
 injuries. For, being a woman of high spirit, she resented her 
 ill usage in such terms as provoked the officers to treat her in 
 the most barbarous manner, and causing her to be publicly 
 scourged. 
 
 She excited the Britons to rage, and all, except London, agreed 
 to revolt. Boadicea put herself at their head, and while the 
 Roman general was in the Isle of Mar, her followers put all the 
 Romans they could find to the sword, so that no less than seventy 
 thousand perished. 
 
 Paulinus, the Roman general, suddenly returning, attacked 
 Boadicea ; and the Britons, when they saw the Romans advance 
 with sword in hand, gave way ; and the Romans, rushing on 
 them, gave no quarters, and put eighty thousand to the sword. 
 Boadicea escaped from the hands of the conquerors ; but unable 
 to survive the remembrance of this terrible defeat, either fell a 
 victim to despair or poison. 
 
 Lady Anne Bacon, second daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, 
 was born in 1528. She was carefully educated with her sister, 
 Lady Burleigh, and not less distinguished for her talents and 
 erudition. She was appointed governess to Edward VI., a sta- 
 tion for which she was peculiarly fitted by her superior endow- 
 ments, and irreproachable manners. She gave her hand to Sir 
 Nicholas Bacon, lord keeper of the great seal ; two sons were 
 the fruits of this marriage, Anthony and Francis, whose know- 
 ledge and genius rendered them the ornaments of their age, and 
 country. To the care and attention of their excellent mother, 
 who, during the early periods of their youth, and childhood, 
 when the temper is most susceptible, and the first habits are ac- 
 quired, instilled into their infant minds the rudiments and prin- 
 ciples of science, and awakened the spirit of a liberal curiosity, 
 their subsequent progress may be justly attributed. 
 
84 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Lady Bacon displayed at an early age her capacity, applica- 
 tion, and industry, by translating from the Italian of Bernardine 
 Octine, twenty-five sermons, on the abstruse doctrines of pre- 
 destination and election. This performance was published about 
 the year 1550. A circumstance took place soon after her mar- 
 riage, which again called forth her talents and zeal. The catho- 
 lics of that period, alarmed at the progress of the reformation, 
 exerted, in attacking it and throwing an odium upon the reform- 
 ers, all their learning and activity. The council of Trent was 
 called by pope Pius IV., to Avhich queen Elizabeth was invited. 
 The princes of Christendom pressed her, by their letters, to re- 
 ceive and entertain the nuncio, urging her, at the same time, to 
 submit to the council. Bishop Jewell was employed on this 
 occasion to give an account of the measures taken in the pre- 
 ceding parliament, and to retort upon the Romanists, in " An 
 Apology for the Church of England," the charges brought 
 against the reformers. The work of the bishop obtained great re- 
 putation, but, being written in Latin, was confined to the learned- 
 A translation was loudly called for by the common people, who 
 justly considered their own rights and interests in the controversy. 
 Lady Bacon undertook to translate the bishop's " Apology," a 
 task which she accomplished with fidelity and elegance. She 
 sent a copy of her work to the primate, whom she considered 
 as most interested in the safety of the church ; a second copy 
 she presented to the author, lest, inadvertently she had, in any 
 respect, done injustice to his sentiments. Her copy was accom- 
 panied by an epistle in Greek, to which the bishop replied in 
 the same language. The translation was carefully examined, 
 both by the primate and author, who found it so chastely and 
 correctly given, as to stand in no need of the slightest emenda' 
 tion. The translator received on this occasion, a letter from the 
 primate, full of high and just compliments to her talents and 
 erudition. 
 
 Lady Bacon survived her husband, and died about the begin- 
 ning of the reign of James I., at Gerhamburg, near St. Albans, 
 in Hertfordshire. She was the mother of the " greatest, wisest 
 of mankind." 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 85 
 
 Anna Letitia Barbauld, a name long dear to the admirers 
 of genius, and lovers of virtue, was born at the village of Kib- 
 worth Harcourt, in Leicestershire, on June 20th, 1743, the eldest 
 child and only daughter of John Aiken, D. D., and Jane his 
 wife, daughter of the Rev. John Jennings, of Kibworth, and 
 descended by her mother from the ancient family of Wingate, 
 of Harlington, in Bedfordshire. 
 
 That quickness of apprehension, by which she was eminently 
 distinguished, manifested itself from her earliest infancy. Her 
 mother thus writes respecting her, in a letter which is still pre- 
 served : " I once indeed knew a little girl who was as eager to 
 learn, as her instructors could be to teach her, and who, at two 
 years old, could read sentences and little stories in her wise hook, 
 roundly, without spelling, and in half a year more could read 
 as well as most women ; but I never knew such another, and I 
 believe never shall." 
 
 Her education was entirely domestic, and principally conducted 
 by her excellent mother, a lady whose manners were polished 
 by the early introduction into good company, which her family 
 connections had procured her ; whilst her mind had been culti- 
 vated and her principles formed, partly by the instructions of 
 religious and enlightened parents, partly by the society of the 
 celebrated Dr. Doddridge, who was for some years domesticated 
 under her paternal roof 
 
 In the middle of the last century a strong prejudice still ex- 
 isted against imparting to females any tincture of classical learn- 
 ing : and the father of Miss Aiken, proud as he justly was of her 
 uncommon capacity, long refused to gratify her earnest desire 
 of being initiated in this kind of knowledge. At length, how- 
 ever, she in some degree overcame his scruples ; and with his 
 assistance she enabled herself to read Latin authors with pleasure 
 and advantage ; nor did she rest satisfied without gaining some 
 acquaintance with the Greek. 
 
 The obscure village of Kibworth was unable to afford her a 
 
 single suitable companion of her own sex ; her brother, the late 
 
 Dr. Aiken, was more than three years her junior, and as her 
 
 father was at this period master of a school for boys, it might 
 
 8 
 
86 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 have been apprehended that conformity of pursuits, as well as 
 age, would tend too nearly to assimilate her with the youth of 
 the ruder sex, by whom she found herself encompassed. But 
 maternal vigilance eifectually obviated this danger, by instilling 
 into her a double portion of bashfulness and maidenly reserve j 
 and she was accustomed to ascribe an uneasy sense of constraint 
 in mixed society, which she could not entirely shake off, to the 
 strictness and seclusion in which it had thus become her fate to 
 be educated. Her recollections of childhood and early youth 
 were, in fact, not associated with much of the pleasure and gaiety 
 usually attendant upon that period of life ; but it must be re- 
 garded as a circumstance favorable, rather than otherAvise, to the 
 unfolding of her genius, to have been thus left to find, or make 
 in solitude her own objects of interest and pursuit. The love of 
 rural nature sunk deep in her heart ; her vivid fancy exerted 
 itself to color, to animate, and to diversify all the objects which 
 surrounded her; the few but choice authors of her father's 
 library, which she read and re-read, had leisure to make their 
 full impression — to mould her sentiments and to form her taste ; 
 the spirit of devotion, early inculcated upon her as a duty, opened 
 to her by degrees an inexhaustible source of tender and sublime 
 delight, and while yet a child, she was surprised to find herself 
 a poet. 
 
 Just at the period when longer seclusion might have proved 
 seriously injurious to her spirits, an invitation, given to her 
 learned and exemplary father, to undertake the office of classical 
 tutor in a highly respectable dissenting academy at Warrington, 
 in Lancashire, was the fortunate means of transplanting her to 
 a more varied and animated scene. The removal took place in 
 1758, when Miss Aiken had just attained the age of fifteen, and 
 the fifteen years passed by her at Warrington, comprehended 
 probably the happiest, as well as the most brilliant portion of 
 her existence. She was at this time possessed of great beauty, 
 distinct traces of which she retained to the latest period of life. 
 Her person was slender, her complexion exquisitely fair, with 
 the bloom of perfect health; her features were regular and elegant, 
 and her dark blue eyes beamed with the light of wit and fancy. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 87 
 
 A solitary education had not produced on her its most frequent 
 ill effects, pride and self importance ; the reserve of her manners 
 proceeded solely from bashfulness, for her temper inclined her 
 strongly to friendship and to social pleasures ; and her active 
 imagination which represented all objects tinged with hues "un- 
 borrowed from the sun," served as a charm against that disgust 
 with common characters and daily incidents, which so frequently 
 renders the conscious possessor of superior talents at once un- 
 amiable and unhappy. Nor was she now in want of congenial 
 associates. Warrington academy included among its tutors, men 
 eminent both in science and literature. With several of these, 
 and especially with Dr. Priestly, and Dr. Enfield, and their 
 families, she formed sincere and lasting friendships. The elder 
 and more accomplished among the students composed an agree- 
 able part of the same society, and its animation was increased 
 by a mixture of young ladies, either residents in the town or 
 occasional visitors, several of whom were equally distinguished 
 for personal charms, for amiable manners, and cultivated minds. 
 The rising institution, which flourished for several years in high 
 reputation, diflused a classic air over all connected with it. Miss 
 Aiken, as was natural, took a warm interest in its success, and 
 no academic has ever celebrated his alma mater in nobler strains, 
 or with a more filial affection, than she has manifested in that 
 portion of her early and beautiful poem, "The Invitation", where 
 her theme is, this " nursery of men for future years." 
 
 About the close of the year 1771, her brother, after several 
 years of absence, returned to establish himself in his profession, 
 at Warrington ; an event equally welcome to her feelings, and 
 propitious to her literary progress. In him she possessed a 
 friend, with discernment to recognize the stamp of genius in her 
 productions and anticipate their fame, combined with zeal and 
 courage sufficient to vanquish her reluctance to appear before 
 the public in the character of an author. By his persuasion and 
 assistance, her poems were selected, revised, and arranged for 
 publication ; and when all these preparations were completed, 
 finding that she still hesitated and lingered, like the parent bird 
 who pushes off their young to its first flight, he procured the 
 
88 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 paper, and set the press to work, on his own authority. The 
 result more than justified his confidence of her success ; four 
 editions of the work were called for within the year of publica- 
 tion, 1773; compliments and congratulations poured in from all 
 quarters ; and even the periodical critics greeted her muse with 
 unmixed applause. 
 
 She was not permitted to repose upon her laurels : her brother, 
 who possessed all the activity and spirit of literary enterprise, in 
 which she was deficient, now urged her to collect her prose 
 pieces, and to join him in forming a small volume, which also 
 appeared in the year 1773, under the title of "Miscellaneous 
 pieces, in prose, by J. and A. S. Aiken." These likewise met 
 with much notice and approbation, and have been several times 
 reprinted. 
 
 In 1774, Miss Aiken was married to the Rev. Rochemont 
 Barbauld, a descendant of French protestants. Mr. Barbauld 
 soon after accepted the charge of a dissenting congregation at 
 Palgrove, near Diss, and announced his intention of opening a 
 boarding school at the neighboring village of Palgrove, in 
 Suffolk. 
 
 The rapid and uninterrupted success which crowned this 
 undertaking, was doubtless in a great measure owing to the lite- 
 rarj^ reputation attached to the name of Mrs. Barbauld, and to 
 her active participation with her husband in the task of instruc- 
 tion. It fortunately happened that two of the eight pupils, with 
 which Palgrove school commenced, were endowed with abilities 
 worthy of the culture which such an instructress could alone 
 bestow. One of them, William Taylor, Esq., of Norwich, 
 known by his " English Synonyms," his exquisite " Iphgenia 
 in Tauris," from the German, his "Leonara," from Burger, and 
 many other fruits of genius and extensive learning, has con- 
 stantly acknowledged her, with pride and affection, for the 
 " mother of his mind ;" and in a biographical notice prefixed to 
 the collective work of Frank Sayers, M. D., of the same city, 
 author of the " Dramatic Sketches of Northern Mythology," he 
 has thus recorded the congenial sentiments of his friend. 
 "Among the instructions bestowed at Palgrove, Dr. Sayers has 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 89 
 
 repeatedly observed to me, that he most valued the lessons of 
 English composition, superintended by Mrs. Barbauld. On 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays, the boys were called, in separate 
 classes, to her apartment ; she read a fable, a short story, or a 
 moral essay to them, aloud, and then sent them back into the 
 school-room to write it out on their slates, in their own words. 
 Each exercise was separately overlooked by her ; the faults of 
 grammar were obliterated, the vulgarisms were chastised, the 
 idle epithets were cancelled, and a distinct reason was always 
 assigned for every correction ; so that the arts of inditing and 
 criticising were, in some degree, learned together. Many a lad 
 from the great schools, who excels in Latin and Greek, can- 
 not write properly a vernacular letter, for want of some such 
 discipline. 
 
 The department of geography was also undertaken by Mrs. 
 Barbauld ; and she relieved the dryness of a study, seldom ren- 
 dered interesting to children, by so many lively strokes of 
 description, and such luminous and attractive views of the con- 
 nexion of this branch of knowledge with the revolutions of 
 empires, with national manners, and with the natural history of 
 animals, that these impressive lectures were always remembered, 
 by her auditors less among their tasks than their pleasures. 
 
 In 1775, Mrs. Barbauld committed to the press a small vol- 
 ume, entitled " Devotional Pieces," compiled from the Psalms of 
 David, with " Thoughts on the Devotional Taste, and on Sects 
 and Establishments." As a selection it did not meet with great 
 success ; nor did the essay escape without some animadversion. 
 It was afterwards separated from the Psalms and reprinted with 
 the " Miscellaneous Pieces." 
 
 The union of Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld proved unfruitful, and 
 they sought to fill the void, of which, in the midst of their busy 
 avocations, they were still sensible, by the adoption of a son out 
 of the family of Dr. Aiken. They received the child when he 
 was about two years of age, and his education became a leading 
 object in Mrs. Barbauld' s attention. For the use of her little 
 Charles, she composed those "Early Lessons," which have justly 
 
 gained for her the reverence and love of both parents and chil- 
 
 8* 
 
90 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 dren ; a work, which may safely be asserted, formed an era in 
 the art of early instruction, and stands yet unrivalled among un- 
 numbered imitations. It was for the benefit of the younger class 
 in school, that her " Hymns in Prose for Children" were written, 
 in which it was her peculiar object, (to use her own words in the 
 preface.) "to impress devotional feelings, as early as possible, on 
 the infant mind ; to impress them by connecting religion with a 
 variety of sensible objects, with all that he sees, all that he hears, 
 all that affects his young mind with wonder or delight, and thus, 
 by deep, strong, and permanent associations, to lay the best 
 foundation for practical devotion in future life." 
 
 None of her works is a fairer monument than this, of the 
 elevation of her soul and the brightness of her genius. While 
 discarding the aid of verse, she every where bursts forth into 
 poetry ; while stooping to the comprehension of infancy, she 
 had produced a precious manual of devotion, founded on the 
 contemplation of nature, fitted to delight the taste, and warm the 
 piety of the most accomplished minds and finest spirits. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld frequently visited London during their 
 school vacations. At the splendid mansion of her early and 
 constant admirer, Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Barbauld beheld in per- 
 fection, the imposing union of literature and fashion. Under the 
 humbler roof of her friend and publisher, the late worthy Joseph 
 Johnson, of St. Paul's church yard, she tasted, perhaps with 
 higher relish, " the feast of reason and the flow of soul," in a 
 chosen knot of lettered equals. 
 
 At the end of eleven years, finding their health and spirits so 
 much impaired, they determined on quitting Palgrove, and 
 allowing themselves an interval of complete relaxation, before 
 they should again embark in any scheme of active life. Accord- 
 ingly, in the summer of 1785, they embarked at Calais; and 
 after extending their travels as far as Geneva, returned to winter 
 in the south of France. In the spring they again bent their 
 course northward, and after a leisurely survey of Paris, returned 
 to London in the month of June, 17^6. Mr. B., having been 
 elected pastor of a small dissenting congregation at Hampstead, 
 they fixed themselves in that agreeable village for several years. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 91 
 
 In 1790, the rejection of a bill for the repeal of the Corpora- 
 tion and Test Acts, called forth her eloquent and indignant 
 address to the opposers of this repeal ; her poetical epistle to 
 Mr. Wilberforce, on the rejection of the bill for abolishing the 
 Slave Trade, was written in 1791. The next year produced her 
 " Remarks on Mr. Gilbert Wakefield's Inquiry into the expediency 
 and propriety of public or social Worship ;" and her " Sins of the 
 Government, Sins of the Nation, or a Discourse for the Fast," 
 appeared in 1793. She wrote two critical essays ; one prefixed 
 to Akenside's " Pleasures of Imagination," the other to the odes 
 of Collins. 
 
 In 1802, Mr. Barbauld accepted an invitation to become pastor 
 of the congregation, (formerly Dr. Price's,) at Newington Green, 
 and quitting Hampstead, they took up their abode in the village 
 of Stoke Newington. The sole motive for this removal, which 
 separated them from friends to whom they were cordially attach- 
 ed, Avas the mutual desire of Dr. Aiken and Mrs. Barbauld, to 
 pass the closing period of their lives in that near neighborhood 
 which admits of the dai]}?-, and almost hourly intercourses of 
 affection. Here they passed the evening of their lives, and it 
 proved a long, though by no means an unclouded one ; twenty 
 years elapsed before the hand of death sundered this fraternal 
 pair. 
 
 In 1804 she offered to the public a " Selection from the Spec- 
 tator, Tattler, Guardian, and Freeholder, with a Preliminary 
 Essay," in which she gave her name. This delightful piece 
 may be regarded as the most successful of her efforts in literary 
 criticism ; and that it should be so, is accounted for by the fact, 
 that there are many sterling parts of resemblance between her 
 genius and that of Addison. 
 
 On the 11th of November, 1808, Mr. Barbauld died ; and she 
 had the fortitude to seek relief from dejection in literary occupa- 
 tion ; and incapable as yet of any stronger efibrt she consented 
 to edit a collection of the British Novelists, which issued from 
 the press in 181G. In the following year she compiled for the 
 use of young ladies an agreeable collection of verse and prose, 
 entitled the "Female Speaker," and shortly after produced 
 
92 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 *' Eighteen Hundred and Eleven," the longest, and perhaps the 
 most highly finished, of all her poems. 
 
 This was the last of Mrs. Barbauld's separate publications. 
 No incident Avorthy of mention henceforth occurred to break the 
 uniformity of her existence. She gave up all distant journeys ; 
 and, confined at home, to a narrow circle of connexions and 
 acquaintances, she suffered life to slide away, as it were, at its 
 own pace, 
 
 "Nor shook the outhasting sands, nor bid them stay." 
 
 An asthmatic complaint, which was slowly undermining her 
 excellent constitution, more and more indisposed her for any 
 considerable exertion either of mind or body. Her powers of 
 conversation suffered little declension to the last, although her 
 memory of recent circumstances became somewhat impaired. 
 
 A gentle and scarcely perceptible decline was now sloping 
 for herself the passage to the tomb ; she felt and hailed its 
 progress as a release from languor and infirmity ; a passport 
 to another and higher state of being. Her friends, however, 
 flattered themselves that they might continue to enjoy her yet a 
 little while longer ; and she had consented to remove under the 
 roof of her adopted son, that his affectionate attentions and those 
 of his family might be the solace of every remaining hour. But 
 Providence had ordained it otherwise : she quitted indeed her 
 own house, but whilst on a visit at the neighboring one of 
 Mrs. Aiken, her sister-in-law, the constant and beloved friend of 
 nearly her whole life, her bodily powers gave Avay almost sud- 
 denly ; and after lingering a few days, on the morning of March 
 9th, 1825, she expired without a struggle, in the eighty -second 
 year of her age. 
 
 To claim for this distinguished woman the praise of purity 
 and elevation of mind may well appear surperfiuous. Her edu- 
 cation and connexions, the course of her life, the whole tenor of 
 her writings, bear abundant testimony to this part of her cha- 
 racter. It is a higher, or at least a rarer commendation to add, 
 that no one ever better loved " a sister's praise," even that of 
 such sisters as might have been peculiarly regarded in the light 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 93 
 
 of rivals. She was acquainted with ahuost all the female wri- 
 ters of her time ; and there was not one of the number whom 
 she failed frequently to mention in terms of admiration, esteem, 
 and affection, whether in conversation, in letters to her friends, 
 or in print. To humbler aspirants in the career of letters, 
 who often applied to her for advice or assistance, she was inva- 
 riably courteous, and in many instances essentially serviceable. 
 The sight of youth and beauty was peculiarly gratifying to her 
 fancy and her feelings ; and children and young persons, espe- 
 cially females, were accordingly large sharers in her benevo- 
 lence. She loved their society, and would often invite them to 
 pass weeks or months in her house, when she spared no pains 
 to amuse and instruct them ; and she seldom failed, after they 
 had quitted her, to recall herself from time to time, to their 
 recollection, by affectionate and playful letters, or welcome 
 presents. 
 
 In the conjugal relation, her conduct was guided by the high- 
 est principles of love and duty. As a sister, the uninterrupted 
 flow of her affection, manifested by numberless tokens of love, 
 not alone to her brother, but to every member of his family, 
 w^ll ever be recalled by them with emotions of tenderness, 
 respect, and gratitude. She passed through a long life without 
 having dropped, it is believed, a single friendship, and without 
 having drawn upon herself a single enmity which could pro- 
 perly be called personal. 
 
 Laura Battiferi, an Italian lady of distinguished learning 
 and beauty, the daughter of John Antony Battiferi, was born in 
 Urbino, in 1513. She married Bartholomew Ammanati, the 
 celebrated artist, spent her whole life in the study of polite litera- 
 ture, and is esteemed one of the best Italian poets of her time. 
 The principal merit of her poems consists of a noble elevation, 
 their being filled with, excellent morals, and their breathing a 
 spirit of piety. The academy of Intronati, at Sienna, chose her 
 one of their members. She died in November, 1589, aged 
 seventy-six. Her name is held in the highest veneration among 
 the literati of Italy. 
 
94 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Laura Maria Catherina Bassi, the wife of Dr. Joseph 
 Verati, a very ingenious lady, was born in 1712, and died at 
 Bologna, of which she was a native, in 1778. Such was her 
 acknowledged talents and learning, that in 1733 she was honor- 
 ed with a Doctor's degree, after having disputed publicly in 
 Latin ; and her reputation became afterwards completely esta- 
 blished by a course of lectures on experimental philosophy, 
 which she delivered from 1748 to the time of her death. Ma- 
 dame de Boccage in her "Letters from Italy," informs us, that 
 she attended one of those lectures, in which Madame Bassi de- 
 veloped the phenomena of irritability, with precision and depth. 
 The greater part of the literati of Europe, to whom she was 
 well known, bore testimony to her learning, particularly, in the 
 Greek, Latin, French and Italian ; nor was she less for her nu- 
 merous exertions of charity to the poor, and the orphan. She 
 abstained from publishing any thing, but was the theme of 
 much poetical praise. So many scholars of that day paid tri- 
 butes to her worth, that a collection of them was made and 
 printed, with her portrait, about the time she was made Doctor 
 of Philosophy, in 1732, when she was only twenty years of age. 
 This volume was inscribed to her as Doctor of Philosophy, and 
 a member of the Academic Institute, with a beautiful allusion to 
 Petrarch's Laura, in Latin, intimating the Laura of Avignon 
 was made great by the genius and song of the bard, but the 
 Laura of Bologna by her eloquence and a Petrarchian mind. 
 Such honors would awaken the same ambition now, if oui 
 patrons of learning would bring the female mind to the test, and 
 produce the same effects. 
 
 Berenace, said to have been the only woman that was the 
 daughter, sister, and mother of victors at the Olympic games, and 
 therefore the only woman permitted to see the games. Pliny, and 
 several other Roman historians, mention this fortunate woman. 
 
 Anne Boleyn, the vicissitudes of whose fortunes have ren- 
 dered her name celebrated, descended, on the side of her mother, 
 from the duke of Norfolk, whose daughter her father. Sir Tho- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 95 
 
 mas Boleyn, had espoused. Anne was born in 1507, and car- 
 ried to France at seven years of age, by the sister of Henry VIII. , 
 who was given in marriage to Louis XII. After the death of 
 Louis, his widow returned to her native country, but Anne re- 
 mained in France, in the service of Claudia, wife of Francis I.; 
 and after her decease, with the duchess of Alencon, a princess 
 of singular merit. The beauty and accomplishments of Anne, 
 attracted, even at a very* early age, general admiration at the 
 French court. 
 
 She returned to England about the time when scruples were 
 first entertained by Henry VIII., respecting the legality of his 
 marriage with the betrothed wife and widow of his brother, 
 Catharine of Arragon. In his visits to the queen, to whom Anne 
 Boleyn became maid of honor, Henry had an opportunity of 
 observing her beauty and captivating manners. Anne quickly 
 perceived her influence over the heart of the monarch, whose 
 passion, either from principle or policy, she resolutely resisted. 
 The enamored Henry, despairing of succeeding with the lady 
 but upon honorable terms, was, by her conduct, stimulated to 
 redouble his eflx)rts to procure a release from his former engage- 
 ments. For this purpose, he resolved on making application to 
 the court of Rome. 
 
 The impatience of Henry suffered him not to wait for the 
 dissolutioQ of his marriage with Catharine ; a private ceremony 
 united him with Anne-Boleyn on the 14th of November, 1532. 
 The marriage was made public on Easter eve, 1533, when Anne 
 was declared queen of England, and crowned the first of the fol- 
 lowing June. On the seventh of the ensuing September, the new 
 queen was delivered of a daughter, (afterwards queen Elizabeth) 
 on whom was conferred the title of princess of Wales. 
 
 The affection of the king for his new queen, seemed, for a 
 time, to increase rather than diminish by possession ; but, in 
 about six years his love began to languish, and visibly decay. 
 The enemies of Anne, who v*^ere the first to perceive the change, 
 eagerly sought to widen the breach ; and jealousy was the en- 
 gine which they employed for her destruction, with the greatest 
 success. 
 
96 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 No real stigma has been thrown on the conduct of Anne, but 
 a certain levity of spirits and gaiety of character, which she had 
 probably acquired from her education in France, rendered her 
 manners unguarded. She was more vain than proud, and took 
 a coquettish pleasure in beholding the effects of her charms, and 
 indulged herself in an easy familiarity with those who had 
 formerly been her equals. Her popular manners offended the 
 dignity of Henry ; if the lover had b^en blind to the foibles of 
 his mistress, the husband became but too quick-sighted to the in- 
 discretions of his wife. Malignant persons misinterpreted the 
 innocent freedom of the queen, and aggravated the suspicions 
 of Henry. 
 
 A passion for a new object had vanquished, in the heart of a 
 capricious despot, the small remains of his affection for Anne, 
 who was supplanted in the affections of her husband by Jane, 
 daughter of Sir John Seymour, a young lady of singular beauty 
 and merit. By the desire of raising to his bed and throne the 
 new object of his fancy, he was induced to lend an ear to every 
 suggestion, however lightly founded, that tended to criminate 
 the unhappy Anne. 
 
 His jealousy, over which he secretly brooded, first manifested 
 itself at a tournament at Greenwich, where the queen, having 
 let fall her handkerchief, he construed this accident into a signal 
 of gallantry, and retiring instantly from the place, sent orders to 
 confine her to her chamber. Five gentlemen, charged with being 
 her paramours, were arrested, and thrown into prison. Anne, 
 astonished at this violence and injustice, on an occasion so slight 
 and inadequate, was willing to persuade herself that the king 
 meant merely to try her ; but convinced at length, that he was 
 but too much in earnest, she reflected seriously on his inflexi- 
 ble temper, and prepared herself for what was to ensue. 
 
 She was the next day sent to the Tower, and on her way 
 thither, informed of what she had till then been unconscious, the 
 crimes and misdemeanors alledged against her. As she entered 
 the prison, she fell on her knees, and called God to witness how 
 guiltless she was of the offences imputed to her charge. 
 
 The sweetness and beneficence of Anne's temper, had, during 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 97 
 
 her prosperity made her numberless friends ; but in her falling 
 fortunes, no one even attempted to interpose between her and the 
 fliry of the king ; she, whose appearance had dressed every face 
 in smiles, was now abandoned, unpitied and alone, to her adverse 
 destiny. Anne addressed to her husband a letter from the Tower, 
 full of protestations of her innocence ; of which the following 
 is the conclusion: 
 
 " If you have already determined of me, and that my death 
 not only, but an infamous slander, must bring you the enjoying 
 of your desired happiness, then I desire of God that he will 
 pardon your great sin therein, and likewise mine enemies, the 
 instruments thereof; and that he will not call ^'^ou to a strict 
 account for your unprincely usage of me, at his general judg- 
 ment-seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and 
 in whose judgment I doubt not, (whatsoever the world may think 
 of me,) mine innocence shall be openly known, and sufficiently 
 cleared. 
 
 " My last, and onl}'- request shall be, that myself may only 
 bear the burden of your grace's displeasure, and that it may not 
 touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I 
 understand,) are likewise in strait confinement for my sake. If 
 ever I have found favor in your sight, if ever the name of Anne 
 Boleyn hath been pleasing to your ears, then let me obtain this 
 request, and I will so leave to trouble your grace any farther, 
 with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have your grace in 
 his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From 
 my doleful prison in the tower, this sixth of May, 
 
 " Your most loyal and ever faithful wife, 
 
 " Anne Boleyn." 
 
 This address, so pathetic and eloquent, failed to touch the heart 
 of a tyrant, which licentious and selfish gratification had steeled. 
 The gentlemen who were imprisoned on her account, although 
 no proof of their guilt was made out, were condemned and 
 executed. The queen and her brother, the viscount Rocheford, 
 were tried by a jury of peers ; their uncle, and implacable enemy, 
 the duke of Norfolk, presiding as lord high steward. 
 
98 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Anne, though unassisted by counsel, defended herself with so 
 much clearness and presence of mind, that the spectators unani- 
 mously believed her to be guiltless. Judgment was, however, 
 passed by the court both against her and her brother ; she was 
 sentenced by the verdict to be beheaded or burned, according 
 to the king's pleasure. •' O Father," said she, lifting up her 
 eyes when this dreadful sentence was pronounced, " O Creator, 
 thou who art the way, the truth, and the life, thou knowest 
 that I have not deserved this death !" Then, turning to the 
 judges, she pathetically declared her innocence. In her last 
 message to the king, she thanked him for having advanced her 
 from private life to the throne, and now, since he could raise 
 her no higher in this world, he was sending her to heaven. She 
 earnestly recommended her daughter to his care, and renewed 
 her protestations of innocence and fidelity. At the scaffold she 
 prayed for the king, and said to the lieutenant of the tower, 
 "the executioner is, I hear, very expert, and my neck, (grasping 
 it with her hand, and laughing heartily,) is very slender." She 
 met death with firmness, and her body was thrown negligently 
 into a common elm chest, made to hold arrows, and buried in 
 the tower. 
 
 Jane De Belleville, was wife of Oliver III., lord of Clisson. 
 Philip de Valois, king of France, having caused her husband 
 to be beheaded, in 1343, on unauthenticated suspicion of cor- 
 respondence with England, Jane, burning with revenge, sent 
 her son, but twelve years of age, secretly to London ; and having 
 no more fear for him, sold her jewels, armed three vessels, and 
 with them assailed all the French she met with. The new 
 corsair made descents in Normandy, and took their castles ; and 
 the inhabitants of the villages saw frequently, one of the most 
 beautiful women in Europe, with a sword in one hand, and a 
 flambeau in the other, enforce, with inhuman pleasure, the hor- 
 rors of her cruel and misplaced revenge. 
 
 Catherine Brown, a half-blooded Cherokee, was born 
 about the year 1800, at Willis Valley, in Alabama. It was a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 99 
 
 romantic country where she first drew her breath, and she 
 seems to have acquired a natural taste for fine scenery. Her 
 father's name, in the Indian language, was Yau-nu-gung-yah-ski, 
 which is " drowned by a bear." His English name, from his 
 father, was John Brown. Her mother's name was Tsa-luh, in 
 the Cherokee. Her English name was Sarah. They were people 
 of property, and far above the level of their race, but still had no 
 education, they could not speak a word of English. In 1816, 
 the American Board of Foreign Missions, sent the Rev. Cyrus 
 Kingsbury to the Cherokee nation, for permission to establish a 
 school in their territory. This was granted, and a school opened 
 at Chickamaugah, within the territory of Tennessee. Cathe- 
 rine had heard of the school, although living at the distance of 
 a hundred miles. She had learned to speak English, by resi- 
 ding at the house of a Cherokee friend, and could read in words 
 of one syllable. She was now seventeen years of age, possess- 
 ing very fine features, and of roseate complexion. She was 
 decidedly the first of Cherokee beauties. She was modest, 
 gentle and virtuous, with a sweet and affectionate disposition. 
 From her wealth and beauty, she had been indulged as the pride 
 of her parents ; but she was the most docile of all the missionary 
 pupils. Her progress was wonderfully rapid. In three months 
 she learned to read and write. This exceeds the progress of 
 any one on record, in this or any other country. She soon became 
 serious, and then religious; and was baptised in January, 1818. 
 In June, 1820, she undertook to teach a school at Creek-path, near 
 lier father's house. She showed the greatest zeal in the cause of 
 enlightening her country women ; for those of all ages came to 
 learn something of her. She established religious exercises in 
 ht»r father's house, and brought many to Christianity. She was 
 not contented with the measure of information she had acquired, 
 but intended to push her studies into higher branches of know- 
 ledge, which she knew to exist ; but while she was contemplating 
 gi cat things for herself and her nation, her health began to 
 decline. She had probably injured herself by too close applica- 
 tion to her studies. The change from flying through the groves 
 and paddling the canoe, to such a sedentary life, which she must 
 
100 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 have led, in acquiring so much knowledge in so short a time, 
 would have naturally undermined the strongest constitution. In 
 her sickness she discovered the greatest resignation, and the 
 most exalted piety. She had made a deep impression on the 
 honest hearts of her people ; and they watched the progress of 
 her disease with most poignant anxiety. She died July 18th, 
 1 823, aged twenty-three, and was buried at Creek-path, by the 
 side of her brother John, who had died the preceeding year, 
 having, through her instrumentality, embraced the Christian 
 religion. She would have been, in the early ages of Chris- 
 tianity, ranked with saints, and martyrs ; and at this time, de- 
 serves to be held in sweet remembrance. By her conversion, 
 her parents became of the household of the faithful ; and a mis- 
 sion was established at Creek-path, which has been productive 
 of much good. Catharine Brown must be ranked with Poca- 
 hontas, the loveliest daughter of the wilderness ; both forming 
 the highest proof that the children of the forest have talents, and 
 strong and noble affections; and only require instruction to rival 
 those of the Anglo-Saxon blood. When we discover such 
 talents and virtues in the aborigines, the philanthropist, as well 
 as the Christian, mourns to think that this race of beings will 
 soon disappear in our country. They are passing away as the 
 summer cloud ; but we must console ourselves that the hand of 
 God is in this. 
 
 Anna Bates, wife of Joshua Bates, D. D., president of 
 Middlebury College, was the daughter of Deacon N. Poor, of 
 Andover, in Massachusetts; she was born about the year 1783 
 and resided chiefly in that place. She was the charm of th(» 
 social circle in that delightful town ; which has since been se- 
 lected for the site of a theological seminary, all things consider- 
 ed, the first in the United States. Miss Poor had several sisters 
 older than herself, and one younger. Her father's house was 
 a pleasant place, for those who were engaged in literary pur- 
 suits, to spend a social evening. They had a kind reception, 
 and were sure to have an hour's improving conversation. Sub- 
 jects of a literary nature were discussed, without staidness or 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 101 
 
 controversy. It was a family circle which every one in the 
 Keighborhood was happy in being permitted to enter. Miss 
 l*oor, her elder sisters being married, met her friends with a 
 sweet smile, and where she was, all were sure to be happy. 
 
 In the year 1804, she was married to Mr. Bates, who had 
 lieen an instructor in Phillip's Andover Academy, and after- 
 ■NV^ards a resident in the town as a student in divinity, but was 
 at the time of their union a clergyman in the first parish in 
 Dedham, in the same commonwealth. Here a new circle of 
 duties fell to her share. It is one of the most difficult tasks in 
 the world to act the clergyman's wife in New-England. Every 
 eye is upon her ; if too solemn they complain ; and if of a 
 cheerful, lively disposition, they seem to doubt her piety. But 
 Mrs. Bates had nothing to change, and no habit to get rid of 
 She soon was as popular there as a matron, as she had been in 
 her father's house as a young lady. She visited the sick, fed 
 the poor, clothed the naked, and rejoiced with the happy. She 
 was orthodox, according to the faith of her fathers, but the Uni- 
 tarians in Dedham were foremost in her praise, for her virtues 
 did not depend upon creeds. She would have been pious 
 under any form of belief Some years after the settlement of 
 Mr. Bates in Dedham, he was appointed president of Middle- 
 bury College ; an office for which he was eminently qualified. 
 He was learned, pious, social, dignified, and possessed a happy 
 faculty of inspiring respect and confidence. The institution has 
 flourished under his auspices, and is now one of the most repu- 
 table in New-England. Mrs. Bates was precisely fitted for this 
 new situation. Accustomed to see company without parade, to 
 make her house a resort for the enlightened in an easy and 
 pleasant way, she had nothing new to learn, but only to pursue 
 the course she had followed from childhood. The same round 
 of philanthropic deeds, and the same Christian courtesies, made 
 her as happy here, as it had done when her usefulness was 
 more confined. She had a large family of children, and spared 
 no pains in instructing them. It was not her destiny to live to 
 old age. She died after a short illness, in 1826, and was most 
 deeply mourned by all who ever knew her, in any walk of life. 
 
102 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 She had genius, taste, good sense, equanimity, and sweetness of 
 disposition. Her religion was the bright, hopeful, soul-cheer- 
 ing being, who descended from heaven to bless mankind when 
 the Saviour of man walked the earth, and gave his command- 
 ments of love to mankind. Such women should be held up as 
 examples for our esteem, for all may profit by them. 
 
 Esther Burr, the wife of Aaron Burr, president of Nassau 
 Hall, New Jersey, was the daughter of Jonathan Edwards, the 
 famous metaphysician, who wrote on the human will, a volume 
 which has been a text book in some of our colleges ever since 
 his day; and to whom the celebrated Sir James Macintosh has 
 lately paid the highest compliment that can be awarded to 
 genius. She was married to president Burr, in 1752, and was 
 the mother of two children, a son and daughter. The daugh- 
 ter, was married to Judge Reeve, of Connecticut, a sound law- 
 yer, who, for many years, was the principal of a law school, 
 where many distinguished men of the United States have been 
 instructed in the science of the law. The son of Mrs. Burr is 
 still living, the famous Col. Aaron Burr, a statesman, lawyer, 
 and orator, in the first grade of American talent. President 
 Burr died in 1757, and his father-in-law, Jonathan Edwards, 
 was chosen to supply his place. President Burr was a scholar 
 of high acquirements, admired for his eloquence, his readiness 
 in business, his deep and fervid piety, as well as for his know- 
 ledge of the great doctrines of the protestant religion. He was 
 a pattern of meekness, and of evangelical piety. He was a 
 friend to George Whitfield, and accompanied him to Boston in 
 1764, preaching when Whitfield Avas exhausted; and among the 
 most judicious, was thought a better orator than the great itine- 
 rant preacher himself The college flourished under his admin- 
 istration, and many flocked to it from the New England states, 
 to share the benefit of his instruction. In fact, he was the most 
 popular president that had taken charge of a college in this 
 coimtry. While president of Nassau Hall, he continued to 
 preach. He had no gloom in his composition. He inspired 
 all around him with cheerfulness. He had no narrow feelings. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 103 
 
 His arms were open to good men of every denomination. A 
 sweetness of temper, obliging courtesy, and mildness of man- 
 ners, joined to an engaging candor of sentiment, spread a glory 
 over his reputation, and endeared his person to all his acquaint- 
 ances. Though steady to his principles, he was free from all 
 bigotry. In the pulpit he shone with peculiar lustre. He was 
 fluent, copious, sublime, and persuasive. Having a clear and 
 harmonious voice, which was capable of expressing the various 
 passions, and taking a deep interest in his subject, he could not 
 fail to reach the heart. His invention was exhaustless, and his 
 elocution was equal to his ideas. He wished to restore man, 
 disfigured by the apostacy, to the beautiful image of God. He 
 was distinguished for public spirit. Amidst his other cares he 
 studied, and planned, and toiled for the good of his country. 
 He had a high sense of English liberty, and detested despotic 
 power as the bane of human happiness. Over the college he 
 presided with dignity and reputation. He had a most engaging 
 method of instruction, and a singular talent in communicating 
 his sentiments. He stripped learning of its mysteries, and pre- 
 sented the most intricate subjects in the clearest light ; and while 
 he enriched the minds of the students with the treasures of learn- 
 ing, he also implanted in them the seeds of virtue and religion. 
 He possessed the true spirit of government in his college, and 
 no one could complain of laxity or partiality. He printed 
 several learned works upon divinity, which show that he pos- 
 sessed intellect, taste, and learning. He died in 1757; and his 
 wife survived him but a short time, dying the next year, at the 
 early age of twenty-seven. The character of the puritan divines 
 gave them a choice of all the first rate females of the country for 
 wives, and they were wise enough to avail themselves of their 
 privilege. The daughter of Jonathan Edwards and Mary his 
 wife, so descended, and so educated, was among the first that 
 taste, piety, and genius, would seek for. It is agreed on all 
 hands, that Mrs. Burr was a woman of singular endowments. 
 She was beautiful, accomplished, pious, and learned. She was 
 eloquent and fascinating, and wrote with genius and facility; but 
 in all probability, most of the productions from her pen are lost 
 
104 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 for there was no one to gather up her writings ; for her parents 
 died soon after her, and her children were then too young to 
 think of preserving any thing to keep her memory alive. She 
 died of relapse, which followed the small pox. 
 
 Mrs Burr was an ornament to her sex. Her temper was 
 sweet, and her conversation fascinating. Her manners were 
 graceful, and her literary accomplishments were acknowledged 
 by all ; for she made no one feel her superiority while she was 
 dispensing life and happiness around her. There was no gloom 
 in her religion ; that was all pure and perfect as the sunshine 
 lapon other worlds, where no clouds intervene. If there had 
 been those who were in the habit of writing biographies then, 
 as in the present day, her virtues and accomplishments would 
 have been spread upon a more ample record, than can now be 
 made, after the lapse of three quarters of a century. 
 
 Ann Eliza Bleecker, the daughter of Brandt Schuyler, 
 Esqr., was born in the city of New York, in the month of October, 
 1752. She was, from childhood, fond of books. At the age of 
 seventeen she was married to Mr. Bleecker, of New Rochelle, 
 and after living for a while in this new city of the Hugeunotts, 
 she removed to Poughkeepsie, and from thence to Tomhanick, 
 a romantic village not more than twenty miles from Albany. 
 This place was made by nature to nurse poetic thoughts. Here 
 she had a few friends, a few books, and, what was more, they 
 had them all to themselves, a luxury seldom enjoyed in a crowded 
 city. The approach of Burgoyne's army, in 1777, was the 
 first event to disturb her repose. She could hardly believe that 
 a hostile foot could invade her sacred retreat ; but she was roused 
 from this dream by a report that the enemy was close at hand. 
 With only one domestic she fled with her two little children to 
 a place called Stony Arabia. Her youngest child became sick 
 by hurry and fright, and soon died with the complaints of the 
 fall season. She had cherished a most romantic love for her 
 offspring, natural to poetic minds, drawing aliment from solitude, 
 and hardly acquainted with the vicissitudes of mortal existence, 
 &s found in the bosom of society, and she could not be consoled. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY 105 
 
 During these difficulties, her husband was taken prisoner by 
 the scouting parties, and was absent for several days, Avhich pro- 
 duced sad effects on her disturbed mind. When war had passed 
 away, though the enemy had not as yet departed from our shores, 
 she was prevailed upon to visit the city of her birth, which her 
 husband hoped would revive her spirits ; but the visit had a dif- 
 ferent effect. She saw the ravages war had made, and her dis- 
 eased imagination turned all things on the dark side. Peace had 
 indeed come, and the olive-branch was talked of in all circles, but 
 not a rose bush of joy had budded, nor a bough of any thing but 
 the laurel of the heroes of the revolution had grown in the land. 
 The footsteps of desolation were freshly imprinted in the soil, 
 and she was too far imbued with all the horrors of war, to in- 
 dulge a vision of hope. She returned to her rural retreat, and 
 died on the twenty-third of November, 1783, just as the last hos- 
 tile foot was leaving her native land. She was deeply lamented, 
 for the poor found in her a kind benefactor, and her friends loved 
 her as one who had a heart attuned to every virtuous feeling, 
 united to a clear, and exalted mind, that ranked her high among 
 women of talents. Some years after her death, the poems she 
 had written, were collected, and published by her daughter, 
 Mrs. Faugeres. There are no wonderful traces of genius in 
 these compositions, but they show taste and talents, and prove 
 that she would have been capable of high efforts, if the powers 
 of her mind had been strengthened by years, or properly develo- 
 ped by the admiration of the tasteful, or cherished by public notice. 
 Never was there a flower more decidedly born to blush unseen, 
 than the poetical talents of Mrs. Bleecker. In viewing the place 
 where she wrote, and from whence she fled from the enemy, 
 whose strides were then supposed to have no check ; and in 
 contemplating the melancholy loss of her infant, give a more 
 than ordinary interest to those pure thoughts which abound in 
 her poetry. She hardly thought that her writings would ever 
 be the subject of future criticism, or ever of public notice ; but 
 she did not know that there is immortality in pure and virtuous 
 sentiments, embalmed in sweet expressions. 
 
 There is a sweet current of conjugal and maternal affection, 
 
106 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 running through every line of her poetry, that makes it more 
 fascinating than more labored verse, of deeper thought and 
 higher finish. She saw nature in all her loveliness, and painted 
 her as she was seen. Her poetical powers might have been 
 cultivated to high efforts, if opportunity had offered. When she 
 wrote, she had but few models among her own people to assist 
 her taste. The following specimens of her poetry, are full of 
 ease, delicacy, affection, and taste, and place her productions 
 among the loveliest fruits of the pastoral muse. 
 
 TO MB. ELEECKER, ON HIS PASSAGE TO NEW YORK. 
 
 Shall fancy still pursue the expanding sails, 
 Calm Neptune's brow, or raise impelling gales? 
 Or with her Bleecker ply the laboring oar. 
 When pleasing scenes invite him to the shore. 
 There with him through the fading valleys rove, 
 Bless'd in idea with the man I love? 
 Methinks I see the broad majestic sheet 
 Swell to the wind ; the flying shores retreat : 
 I see the banks, with varied foUage gay. 
 Inhale the misty sun's reluctant ray : 
 The lofty groves stripp'd of their verdure, rise 
 To the inclemence of autumnal skies. 
 
 Rough mountains now appear, while pendant woods 
 Hang o'er the gloomy steep and shade of floods ; 
 Slow moves the vessel, while each distant sound 
 The cavern' d echoes doubly loud rebound ; 
 A placid stream meanders on the steep. 
 Till tumbling from the cliff, divides the frowning deep. 
 
 Oh tempt not fate on these stupendous rocks, 
 Where never shepherd led his timid flocks ; 
 But shagged bears in those wild deserts stray, 
 And wolves, who howl against the lunar ray : 
 There builds the ravenous hawk her lofty nest, 
 And there the soaring eagle takes her rest ; 
 The solitary deer recoils to hear 
 The torrent thundering in the midway air. 
 Ah ! let me intercede — Ah ! spare her breath. 
 Nor aim the tube charged with a leaden death. 
 
 But now advancing to the opening sea, 
 The wind springs up, the lessening mountains flee ; 
 The eastern batiks are crown' d with rural seats, 
 And nature's works the hand of art completes. 
 Here Philips' villa, where Pomona joins 
 At once the product of a hundred climes ; 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 107 
 
 Here, tinged by Flora, Asian flowers unfold 
 Their burnish' d leaves of vegetable gold. 
 When snows descend, and clouds tumultuously fly 
 Through the blue medium of the crystal sky, 
 Beneath his painted mimic heaven he roves 
 Amidst the glass-encircled citron groves ; 
 The grape and luscious fig his taste invite, 
 Hesperian apples grow upon his sight ; 
 The sweet auriculas their bells display, 
 And Philips finds in January, May. 
 
 But on the other side the cliffs arise, 
 Charybdis like, and seem to prop the skies : 
 How oft with admiration have we view'd 
 Those adamantine barriers of the flood 1 
 Yet still the vessel cleaves the liquid mead, 
 The prospect dies, the aspiring rocks recede ; 
 New objects rush upon the wondering sight, 
 Till Phcebus rolls from heaven his car of light, 
 And Cynthia's silver crescent gilds the night. 
 
 I hear the melting flute's melodious sound, 
 Which dying zephyrs waft alternate round. 
 The rocks in notes responsive soft complain. 
 And think Amphion strikes his lyre again. 
 Ah ! 'tis my Bleeker breaths our mutual loves. 
 And sends the trembUng airs through vocal groves. 
 
 Thus having led you to the happy isle, 
 Where waves circumfluent wash the fertile soil, 
 Where Hudson, meeting the Atlantic, roars, 
 The parting lands dismiss him from their shores ; 
 Indulge the enthusiast muse her favorite strain 
 Of panegyric, due to Eboracia's plain. 
 
 There is no land where heaven her blessings pours 
 In such abundance, as upon these shores ; 
 With influence benign the planets rise, 
 Pure is the ether and serene the skies ; 
 With annual gold kind Ceres decks the ground. 
 And gushing springs dispense bland health around : 
 No lucid gems are here, or flaming ore. 
 To tempt the hand of avarice and power : 
 But sun-burnt labor, with diurnal toil, 
 Bids treasures rise from the obedient soil, 
 And commerce calls the ships across the main, 
 For gold exchanging her superfluous grain ; 
 While concord, Uberty, and jocund health, 
 Sport with young pleasure mid the rural wealth. 
 
 EETUBN TO TOMHANICK. 
 
 Hail, happy shades ! though clad with heavy snows 
 At sight of you with joy my bosom glows • i 
 
108 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Ye arching pines, that bow with every breeze, 
 
 Ye poplars, elms, all hail my well known trees ! 
 
 And now my peaceful mansion strikes my eye, 
 
 And now the tinkling rivulet I spy ; 
 
 My little garden, Flora, hast thou kept, 
 
 And watch' d my pinks and lilies while I wept 7 
 
 Or has the grubbing swine, by furies led. 
 
 The enclosure broke, and on my flowerets fed 7 
 
 Ah me ! that spot with blooms so lately graced, 
 With storms and driving snows is now defaced; 
 Sharp icicles from every bush depend. 
 And frosts all dazzling o'er the beds extend : 
 Yet soon fair spring shall give another scene, 
 And yellow cowslips gild the level green ; 
 My little orchard sprouting at each bough. 
 Fragrant with clustering blossoms deep shall glow • 
 Ah! then 'tis sweet the tufted grass to tread. 
 But sweeter slumbering in the balmy shade ; 
 The rapid humming bird, with ruby breast, 
 Seeks the parterre with early blue-bells drest, 
 Drinks deep the honeysuckle dew, or drives 
 The laboring bee to her domestic hives : 
 Then shines the lupine bright with morning gems. 
 And sleepy poppys nod upon their stems ; 
 The humble violet and the dulcet rose. 
 The stately lily then, and tulip blows. 
 
 Farewell, my Plutarch ! farewell, pen and muse i 
 Nature exults — shall I her call refuse? 
 Apollo fervid glitters in my face. 
 And threatens with his beam each feeble grace : 
 Yet still around the lovely plants I toil, 
 And draw obnoxious herbage from the soil ; 
 Or with the lime-twigs Uttle birds surprise, 
 Or angle for the trout of many dyes. 
 
 But when the vernal breezes pass away. 
 And loftier Phoebus darts a fiercer ray, 
 The spiky corn then rattles all around. 
 And dashing cascades give a pleasing sound ; 
 Shrill sings the locust with prolonged note. 
 The cricket chirps familiar in each cot. 
 The village children rambhng o'er yon hill, ■•■ 
 
 With berries all their painted baskets fill. 
 They rob the squirrel's little walnut store. 
 And climb the half exhausted tree for more ; 
 Or else to fields of maize nocturnal hie. 
 Where hid, the elusive water-melons lie ; 
 Sportive, they make incisions in the rind. 
 The riper from the immature to find ; 
 Then load their tender shoulders with the prey. 
 \ And laughing bear the bulky fruit away. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 109 
 
 Francisca Anna Pascalis Canfield, was born m Phila- 
 delphia, in August 1803. She was the daughter of Felix 
 Pascalis, M. D., distinguished in the medical and philosophical 
 world, for his numerous dissertations on abstruse subjects, for 
 his practice in the yellow fever, and other extraordinary disor- 
 ders, and as a political economist, who has made great exer- 
 tions in introducing into the United States, the Chinese mulberry 
 tree, in order to encourage the making of silk in this country. Her 
 parents resided for some years after their marriage in Philadel- 
 phia, of which place her mother was a native, and afterwards 
 removed to New York. Miss Pascalis was remarkable for her 
 intellectual acquirements, when quite a child, although she had 
 not any extraordinary advantages of education. Her father was 
 too busy in his professional and philosophical pursuits, to pay 
 much attention to his daughter's education, and her mother went 
 no farther in the course of her studies, than to see that she was 
 industrious, and could give a good account of her time. When 
 only ten years of age, she attracted the attention of that sagacious 
 philosopher, and deep judge of human nature, Dr. Samuel L. 
 Mitchill, who playfully became her Valentine, and wrote her 
 the following in 1815. It clearly proves that he foresaw that 
 distinction awaited his youthful friend. 
 
 Descending snows the earth o'erspread, 
 
 Keen blows the northern blast ; 
 Condensing clouds scowl over head, 
 
 The tempest gathers fast. 
 
 But soon the icy mass shall melt, 
 
 The winter end his reign, 
 The sun's reviving warmth be felt, 
 
 And nature smile again. 
 
 The plants from torpid sleep shall wake, 
 
 And, nurs'd by vernal showers, 
 Their yearly exhibition make 
 
 Of foliage and of flowers. 
 
 So you an opening bud appear, 
 
 Whose bloom and verdure shoot, 
 To load Francisca' s growing year 
 
 With intellectual fruit. 
 10 
 
110 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 The feather'd tribes shall flit along, 
 
 And thicken on the trees, 
 Till air shall undulate with song, 
 
 Till music stir the breeze. 
 
 Thus, like a charming bird, your lay 
 
 The listening ear shall greet, 
 And render social circles gay. 
 
 Or make retirement sweet. 
 
 Then warblers chirp, and roses ope. 
 
 To entertain my fair, 
 Till nobler themes engage her hope. 
 
 And occupy her care. 
 
 In school Miss Pascalis was at the head of her class, and 
 mastered languages with such readiness, that her instructors 
 often suspected her father of devoting his time in bringing her 
 forward, when he hardly knew what she was studying at the 
 time. She made translations from the French, Italian, Spanish, 
 and Portuguese, for mere amusement, or for school exercises; 
 and many of them have been preserved by her friends, and show 
 unquestionable evidences of genius. She early caught the spirit 
 of universal grammar, and found no difficulty in getting posses- 
 sion of the beauties, and idiom of a language. Her poetical 
 taste early appeared, and at a very tender age she wrote sonnets, 
 criticisms, satires, hymns, and epistles to her friends in verse. 
 There are many of her productions preserved, which she wrote 
 between the ages of eleven and fifteen, that are excellent. The 
 following translation from the French, she wrote when she was 
 only thirteen; it is difficult to pour the soul of a song into a 
 translation, but certainly there is much in this that might remind 
 others besides soldiers of their home. 
 
 Q,uand reverrai-je en un jour, 
 Tous les objets de mon amour? 
 
 Nos clairs ruisseaux ; 
 
 Nos coteaux ; 
 
 Nos hameaux ; 
 
 Nos montagnes, 
 Et I'ornement de nos campagnes 1 
 La si gentille Isabeau, 
 A I'ombre d'un ormeau ; 
 Quand danserai-je au son du chalumeau 1 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. Ill 
 
 Quand reverrai-je en un jour, 
 Tous les objets de mon amour 1 
 
 Mon pere, 
 
 Ma mere, 
 
 Mon frere, 
 
 Ma SQBur, 
 
 Mes agneaux, 
 
 Mes troupeaux, 
 
 Ma bergere ; 
 Q,uand reverrai-je en un jour, 
 Tous ces objets de mon amour 1 
 
 (translated by request.) 
 
 The day how blissful will it be, 
 When each loved object I shall see. 
 The clear and purling rill. 
 
 The mountain top so grey. 
 The verdure-covered hill, 
 
 The distant hamlets gay. 
 The glacier's summits pale, 
 And my native sheltered vale, 
 Of my ancestors the grave, 
 Where the elm's hoar branches wave, 
 To the gale. 
 When to the soft breathing sound of the lute 
 Shall I merrily dance with the light-bounding foot, 
 Graze with delight on my Isabel's smile, 
 That lightened my labor, and sweetened my toil 1 
 That day how bhssful will it be, 
 When each loved object I shall see. 
 My father — my mother, 
 My sister — my brother. 
 My sheep which love the shade, 
 Of the flower-cinctured glade ; 
 The woodbine o'er the thatch which creeps, 
 The rose which round my dwelling weeps ; 
 And she, my fond and charming maid ! — 
 That day with bliss shall crowned be, 
 When each loved object I will see. 
 
 Before Miss Pascalis had left school, she translated from the 
 French a volume of Lavater's work for a friend, who had 
 engraved the plates of the work from the original. Soon after 
 this, she translated the " Solitaire," from the French, and the 
 •' Roman Nights," from the Italian of Alexander Verri, and the 
 " Vine Dresser," from the French, at a subsequent period. The 
 
112 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 English of her works are extolled as excellent. In the " Roman 
 Nights," as it appears in the English dress, there is much of the 
 noble flow of Tully, with the delicacy of the best Italian writers. 
 A splendid Italian scholar, Dr. William Taylor, of the catholic 
 church, considered Miss Pascalis' " Roman Nights," as the best 
 translation he had ever read of any work from his beloved 
 Italian, and was of opinion also that she was a most delightful 
 poet in her own language. 
 
 We quote the introduction of this splendid work of Verri as 
 a specimen of her talent at translation. 
 
 " On my first acquaintance with the writings of the ancients, 
 my admiration became fixed by the grandeur and elevation of 
 their style, and the extraordinary times which they commemo- 
 rated. But gigantic Rome towered above all the other nations 
 of antiquity, as superior by a heroic strength and a noble pride of 
 character, as by the magnitude and extent of her conquests. 
 After having been long habituated to the study and contempla- 
 tion of her heroes, my infatuated mind peopled my solitary 
 retirement with their society. I felt their presence in lonely 
 and quiet groves, or when wandering by some meandering 
 rivulet : there, beyond all intrusion on my thoughts, save the 
 warbling of a bird, or the whispers of the breeze, my spirit, 
 absorbed in deep meditation, seemed to forget my present being, 
 and would soar away to those distant ages. This bias of my 
 imagination so increased by indulgence, that at length I began 
 to cherish a strange and strong desire, and secret hope, of being 
 able to invoke from the dead, some of the celebrated characters 
 of the once mistress of the world; to view them face to face, and 
 hold communion with them. Petrarch undoubtedly felt the 
 same aspiration ; for we know that he composed letters to 
 Cicero, Seneca, Livy, and Varro, thus enabling himself to pass 
 over the intermediary interval of ages, and establish an inter- 
 course with the greatest of the ancients. The enthusiasm also 
 of Pomponius Letus was a precedent for mine : deeply versed 
 in the antiquities of his country, he w^as often seen standing 
 motionless among ruins, bedewing them with the tears of admi- 
 ration. Attracted by the same taste, and ardently desirous of 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 113 
 
 yielding to my mind the most lively gratification of which it was 
 susceptible, I left the plains of Lombardy for Rome, on which 
 my fancy so continually rested. 
 
 " Those only who have tasted the delights of classic erudition, 
 can comprehend the multitude of sensations that crowd upon the 
 traveller, when, from the heights of the Appenines, he sees the 
 road descend before him to the Eternal City ! The eye, with 
 eager curiosity, seeks for the summits of the Seven Hills ; the 
 heart, still more impatient, swells with anticipation ; and every 
 fragment of ruins on the road, becomes the object of learned 
 conjecture and of complacent speculation, 
 
 " When I found myself on the Flaminian Way, I thought of 
 its ancient magnificent extent from Rome to Rimini, and of the 
 consul from whom it derived its name, who fell in the me- 
 morable battle with Hannibal, at the lake of Thrasymene. I 
 was still absorbed in the reveries these thoughts induced, when 
 I passed through the noble gate which terminates the Flaminian. 
 Its majestic architecture seemed to continue the pleasing illusion 
 with which I persuaded myself, that I was entering the marble 
 city of the emperor Augustus. I will not attempt to detail all 
 my feelings during the first moments of my residence at Rome, 
 for there are impressions to which the most able description 
 could not render justice. It were better to pass over in silence 
 my overw^helming emotions at the first sight of the sacred Tiber ; 
 the Egyptian obelisks ; temples still black with the smoke of 
 ancient sacrifices ; the Flavian amphitheatre, resting in ruins like 
 an overthrown colossus ; the columns on which the military regu- 
 lations were graven ; the site of the forum ; the mausoleums ; 
 ihe thermal baths; the triumphal arches; the stupendous 
 remains of the circi ; and all the other monuments of Roman 
 grandeur and magnificence, which command our wonder and 
 admiration. 
 
 " It was in that season of the year when the vapors of 
 
 autumn moisten the earths after the burning heats of summer. 
 
 The sky, where it gleamed through the piles of snowy clouds, 
 
 was deeply blue ; the parched plants had resumed their former 
 
 verdure, and the green turf wore the freshness of spring 
 
 10* 
 
114 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Instead of the shrill monotonous chirp of the field-cricket, the 
 ear was now saluted by the musical warbling of a thousand 
 birds, that wantoned on the balmy air in innocent security, 
 ignorant of the snares of the fowler. At this time there was a 
 rumor in Rome, that the sepulchre of the Scipios, which had 
 been the object of so much useless research, was at length dis- 
 covered. This interesting fact made me immediately renounce 
 every other object ; for the monuments of great men penetrate 
 the soul that loves the calm of reflection, with a pleasing melan- 
 choly, far preferable to the exultation of gayety and the turbu- 
 lence of mirth. When nio-ht came, brinsfing: the silence and 
 obscurity favorable to my design, I repaired to the spot, which 
 was marked by a rustic hovel ; thence a narrow and irregular 
 excavation leads to the catacombs. Through this steep and 
 rocky passage, I entered the tomb of the valiant race of the 
 Scipios. The remains of some of them had been disinterred 
 from the earth and ruins, under which others were still buried. 
 I approached them, carrying a flambeau to guide my steps ; and 
 by its glimmering light I perceived the mouldering remains 
 mingled together among the stones and the loose earth. Slowly 
 moving my torch around me, I marked with dissatisfaction 
 and pain the inroads of the spade on these spoils of the grave, 
 worthy of being enshrined in sarcophagi of alabaster, but now 
 become toys for the vulgar curious, and the sport of the populace. "" 
 But learned travellers, attracted to Rome from all parts of the 
 globe, by an enlightened taste for antiquity, had been willing to 
 express a due veneration for these precious relics ; and had 
 hastened to gather and transfer some to distant cabinets as 
 pledges of their respect to the memory of the Scipios. Even 
 foreign ladies of rank, on hearing of this discovery, had fear- 
 lessly exposed their delicate feet to the rugged soil of the cavern; 
 and had touched with their fair and soft hands these crumbling 
 bones, sad evidences of human caducity. As for me, I could 
 not avoid feeling a shudder of reluctance to tread under foot 
 the remains of that race of heroes ; and as I walked, to crush 
 perhaps the head or the arm of one of those triumphant sons 
 of victory. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 115 
 
 " These venerable tombs bear in their simplicity the stamp of 
 those better days of the republic, when the Romans sought not 
 to distinguish themselves by vain magnificence, but by the splen- 
 dor of their virtues. They are built only of coarse stone, rough 
 hewn ; and the names and actions of the dead are traced simply 
 in red ochre, fortunately yet uninjured. The monumental 
 inscriptions are in the ancient Latin tongue, and modestl}^ record, 
 in a concise style, the famous actions of those deposited within 
 them. The pyramid of Caius Cestius still stands, I said, as I 
 gazed around me, though his fame is so obscure that scarce 
 a trace of it is found in history. Thus his pompous tomb has 
 transmitted, from age to age, a name unaccompanied with any 
 title to glorious distinction ; while, by the vicissitude of events, 
 these ashes are disturbed, which for so many centuries have 
 been buried from human eye. While my mind was immersed 
 in reflections of this nature, the night breeze suddenly rushed 
 through the mouth of the cavern, and in a moment my torch 
 was extinguished. This accident was not unpleasing ; by shut- 
 ting out all visible images it seemed to lend new vigor to my 
 soul, more deeply devoted to contemplation in the midst of total 
 darkness. The gloomy domains of death seemed to open before 
 me, and again I was seized with the desire of communing with 
 their pale inhabitants Suddenly, I heard a plaintive mur- 
 muring of inarticulate sounds, slowly extending and increasing; 
 it resembled the noise of the winds roaring through ravines. 
 The earth shook under my feet; and my ears rung as with the 
 hum of bees. The bones of the dead striking against the sides 
 of the tombs, rattled like the crashing of dry branches. The 
 tablets of the sepulchres seemed to be slightly raised, and then 
 to fall back to their places ; at least such a sound caught my 
 attention in that obscurity. I confess that human fears then pre- 
 vailed over noble desires, and a cold chill froze the current in 
 my veins. There are none but would have shared my awe ; 
 none who would not have trembled at a trial so far above the 
 ordinary strength of human nature. By degrees the air became 
 calm, the earth grew firm beneath me, and at intervals a phos- 
 phoric light expanded around, by which I began to discern a 
 
115 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 few human faces slowly appearing in the tombs. I next distin- 
 guished their arms supporting the lids of stone which covered 
 them. At length every sarcophagus seemed to hold a spectre, 
 standing and disclosing the upper parts of the body. I saw the 
 head and shoulders of children and young persons, and the 
 upper half of the forms of men. The females with modest de- 
 meanor stood shrouded in veils, which some of them drew aside. 
 There were youths whose thick locks shaded their brows ; they 
 divided them on their foreheads, or flung them back upon their 
 shoulders ; while other spectres by their baldness and white hair, 
 seemed to have died in the decline of their years. The faces 
 of young virgins, cut off in the dawn of their loveliness, though 
 shaded by death, were still blooming with a faint carnation, like 
 the tender tints of the cropped flower. But the eyes of the phan- 
 toms were heavy, and as if weighed down by the slumber of 
 ages. While they gradually raised their heads, and fixed their 
 glances on me with a sIoav and confused expression, like sleepers 
 just awakened, I perceived a phosphoric glare in the distant part 
 of the cavern. It accompanied a spectre who advanced with a 
 majestic mien, clothed in the white toga, and resembling the con- 
 sular statues. His countenance was replete with mild dignity: 
 he seemed past the prime of manhood ; and his aspect inspired 
 respect and reverence. No sooner was he perceived by the 
 spectres among the tombs, than they hurried to meet him, and 
 pressed around him with admiration and homage ; but there was 
 something in their low voices too melancholy for language to ex- 
 press. Alone in the midst of the immense crowd that surrounded 
 him, he stood proudly erect, with conscious superiority, and 
 seemed preparing to address them. Almost breathless in anxious 
 suspense, I leaned myself against the side of a tomb, subdued to 
 silence by sentiments of surprise and veneration." 
 
 Many of the periodicals of the day were adorned by compo- 
 sitions from her pen both in prose and verse. The Minerva, 
 the Mirror, and other papers w^ere much indebted to her pen 
 for some of their most attractive articles. There are many of 
 her tales which purport to be translations that were known to 
 be originally from her study, never having seen the light before 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. llT 
 
 they appeared in an English dress. She changed the signa- 
 ture affixed to her poetical effusions, as well as to her prose 
 works, for concealment, not wishing it to be known that she 
 wrote so much. One of her signatures was " Salonina." By 
 this signature she addressed to her friend Dr. Mitchill, a poetical 
 epistle, purporting to be a translation from Le Brun. It is a 
 paraphrase more properly. 
 
 Mitchill, although the envious frown, 
 
 Their idle wrath disdain ! 
 Upon thy bright and pure renown, 
 
 They cannot cast a stain. 
 Ida, the heaven-crown'd, feels the storm 
 Rave fiercely round her towering form. 
 
 Her brow it cannot gain, 
 Calm, sunny, in majestic pride. 
 It marks the powerless blast subside. 
 
 And didst thou ever hope to stand, 
 
 So glorious and so high, 
 Receive all honor and command, 
 
 Nor meet a jealous eye? 
 No, thou must expiate thy fame. 
 Thy noble, thy exalted name ; 
 
 Yet pass thou proudly by ! 
 The torrent may with vagrant force. 
 Disturb, but cannot change thy course. 
 
 Or, should thou dread the threats to brave 
 
 Of malice, wilful — dire. 
 Break thou the sceptre genius gave. 
 
 And quench thy spirit's fire ; 
 Down from thy heights of soul descend, 
 Thy flaming pinions earthward bend, 
 
 Fulfil thy foes' desire ; 
 Thy immortaUty contemn, 
 And walk in common ways vdth them. 
 
 The lighter tasks of wit and mind, 
 
 Let fickle taste adore ; 
 But Genius' flight is unconfin'd, 
 
 O'er prostrate time to soar. 
 How glows he, when Ambition tears, 
 The veil from gone and coming years ' 
 
 While ages past before. 
 To him their future being trust. 
 Though empires crumble into dust. 
 
il8 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Without this magic, which the crowd 
 
 Nor comprehend, nor feel. 
 Could Genius' son have ever vow'd. 
 
 His ductile heart to steel, 
 'Gainst all that leads the human breast, 
 To turn to indolence and rest ; 
 
 From Science' haunts to steal, 
 To Beauty, Wealth, and Ease, and Cheer, 
 All that delight the senses here? 
 
 And thus he earns a meed of praise, 
 
 From nations yet unborn ; 
 Still he, whom present pomp repays, 
 
 His arduous toil may scorn ; 
 But wiser, sure, than hoard the rose, 
 Which low for each way-farer blows, 
 
 And lives a summer morn, 
 To climb the rocky mountain way. 
 And gather the unfading bay. 
 
 Yet wo for him whose mental worth 
 
 Fame's thousand tongues resound ! 
 While living, every worm of earth, 
 
 Seems privileged to wound. 
 His victory not the less secure. 
 Let him the strife with nerve endure, 
 
 In death his triumph found ; 
 Then worlds shall with each other vie, 
 To spread the name that cannot die. 
 
 Miss Pascalis was married to Mr. Canfield, a lottery vender 
 and exchange broker. He was a man of enterprise, but failed 
 soon after their marriage. The union of such an accomplished 
 woman with Mr. Canfield was not hailed as a very suitable 
 one, and so it proved. On the change of his fortunes she en- 
 treated him to come down to his situation, and make safe and 
 sure efforts to rise again. This did not agree with his views, 
 and her advice was disregarded. Mrs. Canfield was never 
 heard to repine. She made the best of every thing. Among 
 other attempts to retrieve his fortunes, her husband published a 
 paper called " Canfield's Lottery Argus, Commercial and 
 Exchange Telegraph, or National Miscellany." The great 
 object of the paper was, of course, to give the public all such 
 matters and things as are necessarily connected with banks 
 and brokerage, and in this department he was an adept. To 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 119 
 
 this he added a literary department of which his wife took 
 charge. But few readers of miscellaneous literature, thought 
 of looking into such a paper for matters of taste and genius, 
 and of course her efforts were almost entirely " wasted on the 
 desert air." Many editors plundered her columns, thinking 
 that they should never be detected. It was not the proper situ- 
 ation for one so well calculated to fill a higher sphere. But as 
 editor of this department she continued a helpmate to her hus- 
 band, while the paper existed, and it was continued for several 
 years. 
 
 Among other accomplishments, she was an excellent painter, 
 and if she had confined her attention to that branch of the fine 
 arts, she would have been the first female painter of the age. 
 She drew a landscape, a flower, a stream, or a human being, 
 all with equal ease. She sketched with readiness, and finished 
 with taste. Some of her copies of old pictures have deceived 
 professional painters. One of her copies was sold at auction 
 for an original, and the mistake was not discovered until men- 
 tioned by her father. She was a tolerable musician, and 
 played with some science and skill, although she had no passion 
 for the art. Her imagination was powerful, and her invention 
 often surprising, yet her logical powers were always controling 
 when in connection with her imagination. There is a depth of 
 thought in her reasoning which gives strength to her argu- 
 ments, and an elegance of expression in her language which 
 should be denominated eloquence. In reasoning, her heart was 
 a vassal to her understanding. In Avriting, she seemed to have 
 been constantly under the influence of the advice thus given to 
 Pindar : " Moderate your fire ; the axle of your chariot wheels 
 burns too soon." 
 
 Mrs. Canfield was, from infancy, fond of retirement, and pre- 
 ferred solitude, and a small circle of warm and admiring 
 friends, to all the pleasures of the gay and fashionable world. 
 Though modest and retiring, and almost bashful, when curiosity 
 was investigating her merits, or she thought herself gazed at by 
 the public, yet she was open, free, eloquent, and enchanting, 
 when she was with her chosen few. Nature had given her the 
 
120 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 power of a satirist, and sometimes she was induced to show 
 that she possessed it; but she preferred to praise the good, rather 
 than to censure the blamable. She wrote some critical notices 
 of reviews, which cut deep, and were felt long. She was not 
 destined to long life ; for some time previous to her dissolu- 
 tion, she knew that her life-blood was on the lees, and that her 
 days would soon be finished, but she was not alarmed; she 
 knew that the debt of nature must sooner or later be paid, and 
 she was ready to meet it. Mrs. Canfield by some was called 
 handsome, others who think prettiness makes beauty, would not 
 concur in the opinion. Her large hazle eye beamed with the 
 lustre of genius, and the combination of her features gave a re- 
 fined, intellectual and expressive cast to her countenance when 
 in repose; but it was in the gentle agitation of her soul, that her 
 beauty was seen and acknowledged. Misfortune had made 
 some inroads upon her face, but still its ethereal character was 
 softened, not changed. She wasted away by that consumption 
 which comes from a broken heart, and which gives the sufferer 
 a full gaze of death, as he approaches ; but she saw his grim 
 visage without dismay. She left four children to feel the want 
 of a mother's care ; and although she was assured that others 
 would faithfully discharge the duties she was not allowed by 
 divine providence to pay herself, still it must have been hard 
 for a mother to part with four infant children. The most 
 gifted of the daughters of men must pass away like the humblest, 
 and the places that knew them shall know them no more. The 
 most delicate and lovely of all earth-born flowers bursts upon 
 us in the shades of night, and is not, when the morning sun 
 arises. Many a cactus grandijiorus of the moral and intel- 
 lectual world appear and die, known only to a few. 
 
 It should be remembered, in estimating her powers of mind, 
 that she wrote most of her com^munications for the Argus, when 
 poverty had sickened her heart and destroyed the harmony of 
 the social circle, and the wolves of the law were at the door ; 
 yet, there is no sighing, no repining, to be found in a single sen- 
 tence from her pen. Nothing escaped her by which one could 
 divine that a cloud had rested upon her house, or a shade upon 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 121 
 
 her future hopes. Dr. Pascalis was an ambitious man, and 
 indulged the fond belief, that he should see his daughter sought 
 for, and distinguished, in the first circles of mind and accom- 
 plishments, and never enjoyed himself a moment after this vision 
 of his hopes had disappeared, by the marriage of his daughter 
 to Mr. Canfield. There seems to be, in the inscrutable laws of 
 divine providence, in his moral government, a blight upon the 
 expectations and prospects of those who disregard, the deep 
 feelings of parental advice, in the choice of a partner for life. 
 The kindest attentions of a fond husband, and the innocent 
 prattle of sweetest babes, and all the enjoyment of fortune, can- 
 not efface from the mind of a woman the frowns of a father at 
 her disobedience, long after the face on which the frown has 
 settled, has mouldered into dust. Mrs. Canfield died on the 
 twenty-eighth of May, 1823. Her father was disconsolate at 
 her loss, and never again resumed his cheerfulness, or his 
 pursuits. He lingered until July, 1833, when he followed 
 his daughter to the grave. Her husband died in September 
 following. He had collected many of her productions, and 
 intended to publish them in one or two volumes. This, pro- 
 bably, will not be done at present. We present a few of them, 
 selected more in regard to our limits than to their respective 
 merits. The old money broker is a graphic sketch, bold, severe 
 but just. 
 
 THE OLD MONEY-BROKER. 
 
 I wish I could make you catch the likeness, — his face pale 
 
 and tawny, a complexion that I would call mooney, it looks so 
 
 much like badly washed Sheffield. His hair, brushed smooth, is 
 
 ashen grey, and lies close to his head. His features are as 
 
 settled and unruffled as if moulded in bronze. There are 
 
 scarcely any lashes to his small grey eyes, which are as yellow 
 
 as weasels' ; his nose is sharp, his lips thin ; and his sight always 
 
 protected against the glare of broad day by a green lining to the 
 
 front of his old jockey cap. He speaks with a low voice, and 
 
 never looses his temper in an argument with his customers. He 
 
 is always apparalled in sable. What his age may be, is all a 
 
 11 
 
122 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 guess ; you cannot tell whether he has become old before his 
 time, or whether he has so husbanded his youth and vigor as to 
 be wearing them out at the slowest possible rate. 
 
 His room is as neat as an Englishman's coat ; but every thing 
 in it is threadbare, from the coverlit on the bed to the green 
 baize of the secretary. It seems the cold recess of one of those 
 ancient spinsters, who spend the livelong day in rubbing up the 
 old furniture. And every thing in it is defective or cross-grained; 
 even to the very fire-brands, in the coldest winter's day, I have 
 never seen them blazing; but they smoulder away without flame, 
 half smothered in the bed of ashes. 
 
 The life of this man passes away as noiselessly as the sands 
 of an antique hour-glass. From the hour he rises, to his fit of 
 coughing in the evening, all his actions are as regular as the 
 movements of a clock. He is nothing better than the model of 
 a man, running down and wound up from sun to sun. If you 
 touch a wood-louse, crawling over a piece of paper, it stops and 
 feigns death ; just so, if a carriage rattles by when this man is 
 speaking, he pauses, until it has passed, as if he called in his 
 powers, lest he should expend the smallest degree more than 
 what is exactly necessary. He is for economising the vital 
 movement, and concentrates every thought and feeling within 
 the orbit of I myself. Sometimes the victims on whom he 
 preys, talk loud in his room, and get very high and angry ; and 
 to that there succeeds an unbroken quiet ; as in a kitchen, where 
 the pitiless cook is not to be turned from her purpose by the 
 noisy clatter of a duck, who suffers — and all is once more still. 
 
 Until seven o'clock in the evening, he is reserved and serious; 
 but about eight o'clock he unbends from his business-like gra- 
 vity, and the man of notes becomes a very ordinary personage, 
 and not to be distinguished in a crowd from any other man. 
 The change seems a mystery more secret than the transmuting 
 of gold ; for, indeed, it is the transmuting of a heart of metal 
 into one of flesh. Then he will sometimes rub his hands 
 together, and has a mirthful style of his own, in a small way, 
 with a cackling, hollow laugh, that can be seen by his mouth 
 agape, but Avhich can be scarcely heard. But in his gayest 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 123 
 
 moments, his conversation is carried on in monosyllables, here a 
 word, and there a word, for assent or dissent. 
 
 He is my neighbor ; that is to say, he occupies a part of the 
 house where I lodge. The house is gloomy and damp. It has 
 neither yard-room nor court, and the rooms are only lighted from 
 the street. The building is distributed like a cloister, into rooms 
 of equal dimensions, tier above tier, each with only one door, 
 which opens on a long and common corridor or hall, lighted by 
 loop-hole windows. So repulsive is the aspect of the house that 
 the volatility of a high spirited heir generally sobers down into 
 something like dejection before he reaches the landing place of 
 my fellow-lodger. Well do the house and he resemble each 
 other — they are like the submarine rock, and the oyster which 
 clings to it. His whole life is clandestine. The sole being with 
 whom he holds communion, socially speaking, is myself Some- 
 times he comes to my apartment to ask for a little fire, to borrow 
 a book or a newspaper ; and of evenings, I am the only one 
 permitted to enter his den, or to whom he will speak of his own 
 accord. These marks of his confidence are the fruits of a seven 
 years neighborhood. If he has any relatives or friends, I am 
 ignorant of them; neither have I ever seen a penny in his posses- 
 sion, but I know that he has an immense fortune in the vaults of 
 the bank. But any how, he has sometimes been a martyr to his 
 prudence; one day he chanced to have gold in his pocket, and a 
 doubloon made its way out and fell on the stairs; a fellow-tenant, 
 who was coming up at the same time, picked it up and handed 
 it to him — " that dosn't belong to me !" said he, Avith a gesture 
 of repulse and surprise ; " I never have gold — never have it 
 about me, — nor in my house." 
 
 He makes the cofiee for his own breakfast in a small boiler in 
 the jamb, from which black corner of the hearth the utensil 
 never stirs. His dinner is brought to him from a cook-shop. 
 The old woman who attends to the door, at a fixed hour, regu- 
 larly goes up stairs and arranges his room. Finally, by one of 
 those chances which Sterne would call predestination, my fellow 
 lodger, who so much interests me, is named Gobsech. 
 
 If the social virtues are a religion, this man, thought I to 
 
124 ^ FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 myself, must be pronounced an atheist recreant. To satisfy 
 myself, concerning the mystery of his nature and pleasures, I 
 determined to study him more closely, homo duplex, the man 
 and his mind. I like facts better than systems. Instead, then, 
 of being discursive in theory. I shall be brief in narrative. 
 
 Last evening I paid a visit to this curious mortal, who has 
 made gold his all in all. I found him seated in his easy chair, 
 still and fixed as a statue, and his eyes rivetted on the mantel- 
 piece, where he seemed to be reading tables of discounts. A 
 hand lamp, smutty, smoky, with a foot that had once been lacker- 
 ed green, cast a dull red glare on his bloodless complexion. He 
 lifted his eyes, but spoke not ; however, as my chair was drawn 
 out beside him, it was evident that I was expected and welcome. 
 
 " Does this being," said I to myself, "ever think? Believes he 
 in a Deity, Creator, and Preserver? Does he know what sensi- 
 bility is ? Is woman dear to him ? Have emotions of pleasure 
 ever fluttered or unfixed that rigid soul?" Thus did I pity him 
 as an object, a sick man, a cripple. Still, I felt, that with a million 
 in bank, he must luxuriate in a sense of power that was equal to 
 possessing the whole world at a grasp. 
 
 " Good day, Gaffer Gobsech !" said I to him. 
 
 He turned his face towards me, and slightly drew together 
 his broad, black eye-brows. This characteristic inflexion was 
 equivalent to the gayest smile of one of warmer temperament. 
 
 " You are as dull to-day," continued I, " as the time when 
 
 they told you of the failure of the bookseller. Have you 
 
 met any bad drafts to-day — this is the 31st, I think — " 
 
 It was the first time I had ever spoken to him concerning 
 money matters. He looked me full in the face ; and, with that 
 soft, low-tuned voice, which does not ill resemble the irresolute 
 breathings on the flute of a learner, he replied, " I was taking 
 a little recreation." 
 
 " What," cried I, " do you ever take recreation ?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and gave me a look of pity, and 
 scorn. 
 
 " Do you think," said he, " that there are no persons of fancy 
 and taste, except poets that print verses ?" 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 125 
 
 Verses in such a head ! thought I. He continued, " There is 
 none whose lot is more animated and soul-stirring than mine. 
 
 " Listen," said he. "By what I shall tell you of this morning's 
 adventures you will be able to form an idea of my enjoyments." 
 
 He then rose and bolted the door, and drew before it an old 
 tapestry curtain, the rusty rings of which grated on the rod. He 
 seated himself beside me, and began thus : 
 
 " This morning I had only two bills to collect, because I had 
 passed off all the others yesterday as cash to my customers. 
 One of the notes was given me by a dashing young fellow who 
 rode in a tilbury. It was signed by one of the handsomest ladies 
 
 in , the wife of a great landholder and nobleman. It 
 
 was drawn, to pay — I dont know what debt ; the amount w^as 
 two hundred crowns. The other note was for the same sum, 
 
 and drawn by a lady also, for it was signed Fanny . It 
 
 came into my possession from a linen draper. The drawer of 
 
 one note lived in square, and the other in street. 
 
 Could you but know the romantic conjectures that filled my mind 
 as I left my home this morning! What proud delight thrilled 
 my bosom, as I foresaw, that if these two women were not ready, 
 they would receive and treat me with as much respect as if I 
 
 were their own father. What politenesses Lady would 
 
 shower on me for the sake of two hundred crowns! She would 
 stoop to address me with an affectionate air, she would speak to 
 me in those soft and gentle tones which she reserves — perhaps 
 for the endorser of the draft ; she would lavish upon me words 
 of endearment, fond expressions ; entreat me even, and I " 
 
 Here the old man, facing me, gave his countenance an expres- 
 sion, freezingly obdurate and inexorable. 
 
 " And I," he resumed, " not to be moved ! There I am — like 
 any avenger, like conscience, Avhich is not to be put off! But 
 let us have done Avith my reveries. By and by I reached the 
 mansion of Lady . 
 
 " A fernme de chambre answered me that her ladyship was 
 sleeping. ' Is her ladyship sick ?' said I. ' No,' she replied, 
 * but she did not return from the ball last night until three 
 o'clock.' 
 
126 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " ' My name is Gobsech ; tell her my name, I shall be here at 
 noon.' And I went my way, after leaving marks of my pre- 
 sence on the sumptuous carpeting that covered the staircase. 
 
 " When I reached street, I found at the number, a house 
 
 of mean appearance. I pushed open the crazy gangway gate, 
 and saw one of those dark court-yards to which the sun never 
 penetrates. The porter's lodge was fairly black with age and 
 neglect, and the window panes, like a rusty fustian sleeve, listed 
 with greasy brown stripes. 
 
 " I asked for Miss Fanny . 
 
 *' ' She is out ; but if you come about a draft, the money is 
 here.' ' I'll call again,' said I ; for when I found that the money 
 was ready, I wanted to know a little more of the young lady ; 
 I had made up my mind that she was young. I passed the 
 morning in looking at the engravings displayed in the print 
 shops, and as twelve o'clock struck, I was just crossing the anti- 
 chamber of the bed -room of my Lady . 
 
 *' ' Her ladyship has but just rung,' said the waiting-maid ; • I 
 do not think she can be seen.' 
 
 " ' I shall wait,' was my answer ; and I sat down on a gilded 
 sofa. The blind-doors had scarcely been more than opened, w^hen 
 the femme de chambre returned. ' Will you walk in, sir.' — 
 There was that in the words and the tone, which assured me 
 that the lady fell short. 
 
 " But what a magnificent woman met my sight ! She had has- 
 tily thrown over her bare shoulders a cashmere shawl, the folds 
 of which she gathered round her with just that ravishing art 
 that the beautiful proportions of her bust were distinctly mani- 
 fest. A tasty morning-gown, white as snow, was her only dress. 
 Her black tresses escaped, here and there in rich confusion, 
 from underneath a choice Madras handkerchief, capriciously 
 fastened round her head in the fashion of the Creoles. Her 
 bed was a scene of picturesque disorder; and certainly her 
 slumbers had been uneasy and agitated. The draperies were 
 cast with most voluptuous and bewitching negligence, and her 
 pillow lay in the midst of the eider-down quilt of blue silk, the 
 splendid lace relieving admirably from the azure ground. A 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 127 
 
 painter would have paid a price to have stood where I did. On 
 the large bear-skin, spread beneath the carved mahogany lion's 
 claws of the bedstead, glittered two small slippers of white satin, 
 thrown one here the other there, as weary feet will do, on 
 returning from a ball. Over a chair lay a rumpled dress, the 
 sleeves hanging to the floor. Spider-net stockings, such as the 
 slightest breath of wind might carry away, were twisted about 
 the leg of an easy chair, as if flung there from the hand ; and 
 along a couch lay a pair of garters, artificial flowers, diamonds, 
 gloves, a nosegay and belt, scattered confusedly. There was a 
 delicate, a scarcely perceptible odor of aromatics in the air. 
 A costly fan, half open, lay on the mantel ; the drawers of the 
 bureau were open. This mingled luxury and carelessness, 
 every thing rich and elegant, yet all displaced, impressed the 
 mind with a sense of discomfort in the midst of wealth. The 
 lassitude, betrayed by the countenance of her ladyship, was in 
 keeping with the room thus strewed with the cast ofl' attire of 
 the festival. Such unseasonable disorder excited my contempt; 
 the same objects harmoniously assembled the evening previ- 
 ously, might have raised in me some emotion. They seemed 
 to tell of a heart that was burning with a passion that was 
 blasted by conscience ; they showed as the image of a life of 
 show, expense, and dissipation ; a tantalizing pursuit of unsub- 
 stantial pleasures. There were some spots of unnatural redness 
 on the face of the lady, that set ofl" the delicacy of her skin ; her 
 features seemed swelled, and the brown circle around her dark 
 eyes, rather heavy. But nevertheless, these indications of folly 
 did not lessen her beauty, such was the energy of health and 
 nature that seemed glowing in her whole frame. Her eyes 
 sparkled; she reminded me of a Herodias, by Leonardo da 
 Vinci — for I have been a picture-broker once. She was full 
 of life and strength ; nothing meagre in the contour, or feeble 
 or mean in the outline of her person, scanted the sense of 
 admiration. Her appearance inspired love ; and yet there was 
 a power developed in her brilliant and haughty consciousness of 
 beauty, by no means akin to the fragility and delicacy that wins 
 and wakes the tender passion. It was just the style to please 
 
128 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 me ; and it was long since my heart had throbbed before ; th 
 value of the note was already paid ; for I would give more thai 
 two hundred crowns for a sensation that reminds me of the days 
 of my youth. 
 
 " ' Sir,' said she, as she handed me a chair, ' will you have 
 the kindness to allow me time' 
 
 •' ' Till to-morrow at noon, your ladyship ; I have not the 
 
 right,' said I, as I folded up the note, 'to protest before the 
 hour.' 
 
 " Then I said within myself — pay for your luxury — pay for 
 your rank — pay for your happiness — pay for the monopoly 
 Avhich you enjoy. For wretches without bread, there are courts, 
 judges, and executioners; but for you, who sleep on downy 
 pillows canopied with silk, let there be the pangs of regret 
 and the gnashing of the teeth hidden under a smile, and the cold 
 clutch upon the heart of a concealed anguish. 
 
 " ' A protest !' she exclaimed, ' do you intend that !' said she, 
 looking at me with a Avild gaze; 'will you have so little con- 
 sideration for me ?' 
 
 " ' If the king, your ladyship, were in my debt, and did not pay 
 me, I would make him take the benefit of the act.' 
 
 " At that instant, there was a slight tap at the door of the room. 
 • I am not within !' imperiously exclaimed the young wife. 
 
 " ' Emily, I wish very much to see you,' said a voice outside, 
 ' Not at present my dear,' she replied, in a tone less harsh, but 
 still peremptory. 
 
 " ' O, you are only jesting, for you are speaking to a stranger,' 
 answered the voice, and the door was suddenly thrust open by 
 a man who must have been her husband. Her ladyship gave 
 me a look — I understood it ; she had made herself my slave. 
 Ha ! ha ! there was a time once, when I was stupid enough not 
 to protest. 
 
 '" What is your business?' said the count to me. 
 
 " I saw the lady shiver. The white and satiny skin of her 
 neck became rough, or as we say in common parlance, like 
 goose flesh. As for me, I laughed, without ever a muscle 
 moving. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 129 
 
 " • This person,' said she, ' is one of my tradesmen.' 
 
 *' The noble gentleman straightway turned his back upon me, 
 but I drew the note half way out of my pocket. At this pitiless 
 motion the young lady stepped near to me, and offered me a 
 diamond. ' Take it,' said she, ' and begone.' 
 
 " We exchanged the two values, I made her bow and retired. 
 The diamond was fully worth two hundred and forty crowns. 
 I passed, in going out, two superb chariots that the lackeys 
 were cleaning, and footmen brushing their liveries and polishing 
 their boots. So, said I to myself, this is what brings these people 
 to me, makes them steal and rob millions in a decent way, or 
 else betray their country. That they may not make their shoe- 
 soles dusty, they go over head and ears into the mud ! Just at 
 that very moment the great gate was thrown open, and the 
 young man who gave me the note, passed through in his stylish 
 tilbury. As soon as he descended, I went to him and said, 
 ' Here, sir, are forty crowns, which I would thank you to hand 
 to her ladyship, and tell her that I shall keep at her disposal, for 
 eight days, the pledge that she left in my hands this morning.' 
 He took the forty crowns and a mocking smile stole over his 
 countenance, as if he would have said, ' She has paid, has she, 
 so much the better !' I read in that face the desolation of the 
 countess. 
 
 " I then went to street, to Miss Fanny . I had to 
 
 ascend a very narrow stair-case, and when I reached the fifth 
 story, I was introduced into an apartment, newly fitted up, where 
 every thing wore an air of miraculous neatness. I could not 
 detect a trace of dust on the simple furniture of the chamber, 
 where I was received by Miss Fanny. She was young and city- 
 bred ; her head youthful and elegant, with a becoming air of 
 gentility and kindness ; her well combed chesnut hair w^as fast- 
 ened in two bow^s on her temples, and shaded a pair of blue 
 eyes clear as crystal. She was dressed plain. The light, falling 
 through small white curtains, stretched across the window, threw 
 a softened luster over her angelic face. She was unfolding 
 pieces of linen, and the cuttings of linen over the floor, showed 
 what were her usual occupations. She looked the very personi- 
 
130 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 fication of solitude. When I handed her the note, I told her 
 that she had not been at home when I first called. 
 
 " ' But I left the money with the porter,' said she. 
 
 " I pretended not to hear her. 
 
 " ' You go out rather early, it seems,' said I. 
 
 " ' I am away from home but rarely,' replied she, ' but work- 
 ing so late at night, I am sometimes obliged, for my health, to go 
 bathing.' 
 
 " At a glance I understood her history. The daughter, doubt- 
 less, of a family once rich, and obliged by adversity to labor for 
 her subsistence. There was an indescribable air of virtue, of 
 modesty, and native nobleness in her mien. Every thing around 
 her partook of that character. It seemed that I was set down in 
 the midst of an atmosphere of sincerity and candor, and could 
 breath at my ease. I perceived in an alcove a simple couch of 
 painted wood, surmounted by a crucifix, and then a branch of 
 box. I felt affected, and wanted to leave the money she had just 
 handed me, and the diamond of the countess ; but I thought the 
 present would perhaps be doing her a harm ; and every thing 
 considered, I thought it best to keep back both ; the more so, as 
 the diamond is worth two hundred and fifty crowns for an actress 
 or a bride. And then, as like as not, she too has some fellow of 
 a cousin, who would wear the diamond as a breast-pin, and use 
 up the two hundred and forty crowns in his own way. When 
 you came in, I was just thinking what a good little wife Fanny 
 
 would make for somebody. It will be a fortnight too, 
 
 before I shall get that countess out of my head, and she has one 
 foot, at least over the brink of perdition." 
 
 "Well !" cried he, resuming the. thread of his reflections after 
 a moment of deep silence, during which I had been watching 
 his looks, " think you this is nothing to penetrate thus into the 
 most secret folds of the human heart, and thus espouse the for- 
 tunes of others, and see their lives exposed like a nudity to your 
 searching eye ? It is a spectacle of multifarious shiftings ; ghastly 
 wounds eating into life at the core ; silent, but death-dealing sor- 
 rows ; or scenes of love ; or distresses, over which the waves of 
 the river are waiting to close; or rapture^; of the youthful pulse 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 131 
 
 that will end in the g-ibbet and the axe ; the insane laughter of 
 despair ; the sumptuous and splendid revel ; a tragedy yester- 
 day — a father of a family who suffocated himself with charcoal, 
 because he could not get bread for his children ; to-morrow it 
 
 will be some farce or other, some young- C r playing off 
 
 the pranks of Pea Green Jacket, with variations. I have heard 
 many brags of the force of parliamentary eloquence ; I have 
 listened to one at least of those boasted orators — he never moved 
 me ; but often has it happened, that a loving young girl, in the 
 holy zeal of a plighted attachment ; an aged merchant on the 
 brink of a failure ; a mother wishing to conceal the fault of a 
 son ; a laborer famishing with hunger ; or a politician without 
 principle, have made my soul reel and shudder with the potency 
 of their language. They were sublime actors, and played for 
 me alone. But I am not to be played upon. My eye is as keen 
 as ubiquity ! I read the very heart. Nothing is hidden from 
 me. What do I lack ? I have every thing that is wanted. No- 
 thing is refused or denied to him who has the control of the 
 purse strings, if there be enough in the purse for temptation. 
 Ministers and their consciences can be bought — there's power 
 for you ; accomplished and delicate women, ay, and their hearts 
 too, can be bought — there's pleasure and beauty for you. In 
 fact everything is on sale, and money can buy every thing. We 
 are kings, without title, incognito, I grant you ; but the kings 
 of life, for what is existence without money ? But, Avhile I have 
 enjoyed every thing, I have become sated with every thing. 
 There are thirty of us, such as I, in this city. A common inte- 
 rest is the tie between us ; we meet weekly in a coffee-house in 
 
 street, and form a sort of board of finance, where every 
 
 mystery connected with the rise and fall of stocks, and interest, 
 is divulged, and canvassed. There is no show of fortune that 
 can blind us, we have a key to the secrets of every family, and 
 we keep a sort of black book, in Avhich Ave minute down the 
 most important items concerning public credit, bankers, and 
 trade. We analyze the most indiiferent actions. We are the 
 casuists of exchange. Like me, also, the rest care for power 
 and money, not so much to exercise, as to possess them. 
 
132 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " Here," continued he, pointing around to his cold, and narrow 
 apartment, " here the fiery lover, who is jealous of a word, and 
 draws his sword for a speech — here he begs with folded hands ; 
 here begs the haughtiest merchant ; here begs the beauty, vainest 
 of the vain ; here begs the fiercest soldier, the most famous ar- 
 tist, the writer whose name is pledged to posterity and renown ; 
 and here," added he, laying his hand on his forehead, " is the 
 balance that weighs, not only in a few solitary cases, the things 
 to come, but for every one, for all! — 
 
 " Do you still think there are no recreations, no amusements 
 to be enjoyed under that blank and dingy mask, whose unalter- 
 able stillness has so often excited your surprise?" asked he, 
 stretching his neck, and advancing nearer to me his pallid 
 countenance, which smelt of silver. 
 
 I returned to my room, stupified. In my fancy, the little 
 withered, spindly old man, grew in dimensions, until he changed 
 into a fantastic apparition — like the spirit of gold incarnate. The 
 perfidies of life, and my fellow-men, weighed upon me with 
 horror. Can it indeed, be true, that every thing thus resolves 
 itself into money, money, money ? 
 
 TH^: FIRST EXCURSION OF THE STEAMBOAT WASHINGTON, CAPT. E. S. BUNKER. 
 
 O'er the bright waters haste we ; and our speed 
 The wind's capricious aid disdains to heed ; 
 Our galley's haughty prow the wave divides, 
 And mocks each hidden current's swelUng tides, 
 As with instinctive life, on flies she fast. 
 While idly travels in her wake the blast. 
 Like sea-born Leviathan risen to day 
 From ocean's caves along its breast to play. 
 That strong in giant bulk, defying fear, 
 Sunders the rolling surf in his career; 
 So moves she docile to the secret helm. 
 And walks with rushing step the liquid realm. 
 
 We pass blue hills and shores, and mark the spires 
 Slow sinking, where the city dim retires; — 
 That isle-enthroned city of our pride, 
 Beneath whose feet the circhng waters wide 
 Meet and pay homage !— Think ye when the crew 
 Of Hudson's barque, o'er seas untried that flew. 
 Had toward our bay their dubious errand steered, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 1«5^ 
 
 Still westward on, 'till Navesink hills appeared, 
 
 (Whose lofty peaks above their cloudy zone 
 
 Arose the beacons of a land unknown.) 
 
 That our fair river's estu'ry they found, 
 
 Its graceful sweep, the verdant shores around; 
 
 With sunny slopes that frequent spreads between 
 
 The lonely shore's primeval forest green ; 
 
 The bay's broad glittering scope, unbroken save 
 
 Where fairy islets specked the sparkling wave ; 
 
 And Manna-halo's cape of sands, where rude 
 
 Spoke the loud breakers in that solitude, 
 
 Commingling 'mid the ancient rocks that based 
 
 The isle, and fenced the sapping water's waste; 
 
 While east and west, a river's tribute given 
 
 To the fierce sun, like incense smoked to heaven, 
 
 And fed the sailing clouds, deep-freighted there, 
 
 The fountain's wealth o'er ample cUmes to bear, — 
 
 Think ye that even the careless sailor saw 
 
 This scene, and thrilled not with dehght and awe ; 
 
 Gazing with steady rapture till the air 
 
 Seemed kindling round him into visions rare ! 
 
 Well may we love these glorious waves, and range 
 Proudly in fancy o'er the wondrous change. 
 Since first they yielded to the keel, and flew 
 O'er their light foam the frail and fleet canoe, 
 Whose slender form upon its venturous way, 
 Seemed like a sea-mew darting through the spray, 
 Till now a thousand sails along them sweep, 
 And this broad pile that bulwarked on the deep. 
 Glides on her mission as a floating isle. 
 By shores where all the social triumphs smile ; 
 Herself a marvel as she wheels afar. 
 By Fulton's mighty spell, an ocean-car. 
 Well may we number, with admiring thought, 
 The slow advances time and science wrought, 
 Since enterprise, each danger prompt to brave, 
 With her first feeble means essayed the wave, — 
 Since the small skiff, while toiled the laboring oar, 
 Crept o'er the wave, and hugged the safer shore; 
 Till, as the weary boatman marked the light 
 And waving pinion speed the sea-gull's flight, 
 And felt his arm grow powerless as he plied. 
 While adverse beat the north wind's airy tide; 
 Fired with new hopes he shaped the spreading sail. 
 And winged his bark to drift before the gale : 
 Thus, with alternate progress and delay, 
 Ages on ages saw his timid way 
 
 Tread scarce more firm than while the world was young, 
 Till when, at Fulton's call, invention sprung 
 12 
 
\u 
 
 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Instant to being, in fiill strength, and swayed 
 Her ready vassal steam's transcendent aid 1 
 
 Now goes each good ship proudly, and alone 
 
 Parts from the shore, and roves from zone to zonet 
 
 But ours, with course as bold, prepared to sweep 
 
 Where roll the billows of the vasty deep, 
 
 Shall 'mid the calm, where dies the wavering breeze. 
 
 And not a breath disturbs the languid seas. 
 
 Proceed with tireless prow, and onward bear 
 
 Her peopled decks and fraught saloons, where'er 
 
 Her track shall bend, if hardy Bunker steer ; 
 
 He, veteran sailor, trusty timoneer ! 
 
 Whose practised eye has made the waves his chart; 
 
 Still firm to duty's post, whose faithful heart 
 
 With dauntless skill the wildest storms has braved, 
 
 And still his favored ship through perils saved; 
 
 The mariner, with steady soul endued, 
 
 The weather beaten ancient of the flood ! F . 1825. 
 
 THE DEAD TRUMPETER, A DESIGN BY HORACE VERNET. 
 
 Forth came he, — gallant and firm his breast ; 
 And on fiery charger in trappings dress'd 
 His clarion held by a baldric gay. 
 He led the van on that famous day. 
 
 A warning he blew, whose brazen note 
 Not only rung through woods remote ; 
 Not only startled the peaceful hills ; 
 Echoed not only along the rills. 
 
 But a high tone it roused in the bold of heart ; 
 The mettled barbs at the signal start ; 
 Its defiance-peal, as a shrill death-wail, 
 Died in the bosoms of matrons pale. 
 
 Fiercely and well rose the martial strain 
 For the brave who met on that battle-plain ; 
 As a voice of glory it came, and stirred 
 Proudly the spirit of them that heard. 
 
 A cohort of braves at that trumpet's call, 
 To the onset hastened with sabre and ball; 
 It raised a tempest it could not still, 
 They charge at the summons so stern and shrill. 
 
 Their foremost the deadly shots arrest, 
 
 And down swept many a haughty crest : 
 
 Loud rung the rally ; their refluent shock 
 
 Ebbed, broken again, as the waves from the rook. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 135 
 
 Still did the barbarous clarion bray 
 " Through yon serried foot-band ye must find way ;" 
 For the hundredth time has pealed that blast 
 And the phalanx line is broken at last. 
 
 Vain then the defence of the bristling steel ! 
 Slaughter and rout sped with armed heel, 
 And the tide of battle that rolled away 
 Left but shivered weapons and breathless clay. 
 
 But where was the bugle-paean to sound 
 Gaul's tale of triumph more wide around ! 
 He who should breathe it so full and free, 
 The dauntless trumpeter — where is he 1 
 
 His comrades paused for his cheering strain, 
 It came not — therefore they knew him slain. 
 He has fallen, they said, as they looked a space, 
 Then rushed they on in the dreadful chase. 
 
 But where was he? on his stricken steed 
 From the conflict turning aside with heed : 
 The death-wound struck him — with slackened rein 
 His staggering courser had crossed the plain. 
 
 By a lonely hut with failing strength, 
 Unnerved and trembling he stopped at length ; 
 A streamlet swept through the turf beside. 
 And there had the trumpeter fallen and died. 
 
 Like one who has sunk in his war- array 
 
 To sleep o'ertired, outstretched he lay ; •> 
 
 But the useless helm from his brow had rolled, 
 And the shot pierced temple death's havoc told. 
 
 *Twas saddening to see war's harness gay 
 On the heavy frame of helpless clay ; 
 And to mark the hamlet's portal barred, 
 Nor comrade nor foe the dead to regard. 
 
 And sadder to view the stiffening steed. 
 Wounded and faint, round his master plead; 
 The reins, though broken, the death-grasp held 
 And the tempting streamlet too distant welled. 
 
 And how he stretched forth his drooping head, 
 With anxious eye fixed full on the dead ; 
 Who lay still while those sounds of cheer. 
 The loud recall-notes, rung far and near. 
 
136 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 And his faithful dog on his track had crept, 
 Though shifting squadrons the field had swept ; 
 In vain had he howled for succor, and now 
 Cowering he moaned as he licked the brow. 
 
 That brow in the morn that was braced and bright, 
 Smooth with high hope and the joy of the fight, 
 How deathy and wan with the clammy dew, 
 Its bony mould and its pallid hue ! 
 
 Was it sure as sudden, the mortal blow 7 
 Or say, did the lonely sufferer knov 
 His fiery pangs, who neglected lies, 
 And fain would live and yet feels he dies. 
 
 While wavereth dim life's latest spark 
 Feels the ear deaden, the eye grow dark ; 
 Waits for the aid that may yet restore, 
 In frenzy waits it, and — feels no more ! 
 
 -- Who weeps the slain in the martial joust, 
 
 Where force bears down an host to the dust 1 
 There the stony eye can but warm to note 
 What banners stoop and what standards float. 
 
 So while I read of that chieftain gone, 
 Earth's mightiest victor, Napoleon, 
 Who strode through Europe's realms dismayed, 
 From throne to thone unchecked, unstayed. 
 
 In admiring glow I gave no thought 
 To the myriad victims, the tools that wrought, 
 Twas thine, Vernet ! o'er the least of all 
 To force one natural tear to fall. 
 
 For thou led'st my heart to the plaintive scene. 
 Where the footsteps of glory have lately been, 
 Sowing the earth with each ruined tie ; 
 And the sumless wasting of agony. 
 
 ToS**** L*** 
 
 By those blue eyes that shine 
 Dovelike and innocent. 
 Yet with a lustre to their softness lent 
 
 By the chaste fire of guileless purity ; 
 
 And by the rounded temples' symmetry ; 
 
 And by the auburn locks, disposed apart, 
 (Like Virgin Mary's pictured o'er the shrine,) 
 In simple negligence of art; 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 137 
 
 By the young smile on lips, whose accents fall 
 With dulcet music, bland to all, 
 Like downward floating blossoms from the trees 
 Detached in silver showers by playful breeze ; 
 And by thy cheek, ever so purely pale. 
 Save when thy heart with livelier kindness glows ; 
 By its then tender bloom, whose dehcate hue. 
 
 Is like the morning's tincture of the rose, 
 The snowy veils of the gossamer mist seen through ; 
 And by the flowing outline's grace, 
 Around thy features like a halo thrown. 
 
 Reminding of that noble race 
 Beneath a lovelier heaven, in kindlier climates known, 
 Whose beauty, both the moral and the mortal. 
 Stood at perfection's portal 
 
 And still doth hold a rank surpassing all compare; 
 By the divinely meek and placid air 
 Which witnesseth so well that all the charms, 
 
 It lights and warms. 
 Though but the finer fashion of the clay 
 Deserve to be adored, since they 
 Are emanations from a soul allowed 
 
 Thus radiantly to glorify its dwelhng 
 That goodness \\ke a visible thing avowed, 
 May awe and win, and temper and prevail : 
 
 And by all these combined ! 
 I call upon thy form ideal. 
 
 So deeply in my memory shrined, 
 To rise before my vision, like the real. 
 Whenever passion's tides are swelhng, 
 Or vanity misleads, or discontent 
 Rages with wishes, vain and impotent. 
 Then, while the tumults of my heart increase, 
 
 I call upon thy image — then to rise 
 In sweet and solemn beauty, like the moon, 
 Resplendent in the firmament of June, 
 
 Through the still hours of night to lonely eyes. 
 I gaze and muse thereon, and tempests cease — 
 And round me falls an atmosphere of peace. 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 That fair Euterpe ! — each brown tress 
 With budding orange-blooms was twined ; 
 
 Full did the clustering ringlets press. 
 Above a brow were sate enshrined 
 Instinct divinity of mind ; 
 
 But o'er those smoothest temples shone, 
 Amid their lofty grace, revealings 
 Of such compassionate, ferved feelings, 
 
 'Twas all but love to look thereon, 
 12* 
 
138 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I marked Euterpe 'mid the bright 
 Gay mazes of the festal night. 
 Beside her smiled the one, on whom 
 Her frank eye coveted to rest; 
 Careless he smiled— I marked the bloom 
 Desert her cheek, a deep sigh rend her breast ; 
 'Twas with gay scorn he smiled, as though he deemed 
 He might command her heart ; and proudly seemed 
 To say, thou may'st love on, but I shall be 
 Unmoved by these sweet arts to conquer me. 
 And she whose tameless graces speak, 
 Like the hues rushing o'er her cheek, 
 Of mind all fancy, heart all glow, 
 Stood fixed and mute, but not with wo — 
 Her cheek wore angel's wavering stain. 
 Her lip, slow smiling, breathed disdain. 
 As when the stubborn heart for pride 
 Would fain dishonoring weakness fling aside. 
 Her heart that heaved with sudden swell. 
 'Neath snow white drapery rose and fell ; 
 But though such simple guize enzoned, 
 
 The haughty brow, the bitter smile. 
 Gave her a mien like queen dethroned, 
 
 Who tasks a traitor for his guile. 
 Did he not shrink and faltering turn 
 Who gave such anger leave to burn 7 
 Anger — oh no, he knew, in vain 
 Might the all-consciouS slave resist the chain. 
 Not once the large and fringed lid 
 Her sparkling eye declining hid ; 
 Nor upwards with beseeching gaze. 
 Strove she those darkening orbs to raise, 
 But on the mocker full they bent 
 Till their indignant flame was spent: 
 And dew-bright, o'er their evil glare. 
 Stole a mild shade, like an eclipse 
 Falling through sun light air. 
 
 Then sealed in meekness were her lips; 
 But in the sad solemnity 
 
 Of her submissive mien, I read, 
 How love's enthusiast sophistry 
 
 To fevered fortitude misled, 
 And justified the wrong with lavish clemency, 
 " Alas," her sighs to fancy said, 
 " Let me not blame unkindly, — wise too late ; 
 Is not love doom 1 and when was passion felt 
 Without full measure of this ani,uish dealt? 
 Man too is haughty ever :— this is fate." 
 Such the poor heart ! love's ills his sweets transcend. 
 And still the "wisest, like the weakest bend. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 139 
 
 Anne Clifford, sole daughter and heir to George, earl of 
 Cumberland, was born at Skipton Castle, at Craven, January 
 30th, 1589, and married first, to Richard, Lord Buckhurst, by 
 whom she had three sons, and two daughters. She married, 
 secondly, Phillip Herbert, earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, 
 by Avhom she had no issue. One of her first structures was a 
 pillar in the highway, where she and her mother took their last 
 farewell. She also erected a monument to her tutor Daniel, the 
 poet, and another to Spencer, besides which, she founded two 
 hospitals, and repaired or built seven churches. But the most 
 singular article in her life is the letter which she wrote to Sir 
 Joseph Williamson, secretary of state after the restoration, who 
 had presumed to recommend a candidate for the borough of 
 Appleby. The reply of the countess was Avorthy of her ances- 
 tors : " I have been bullied by an usurper, I have been neglected 
 by a court, but I will not be dictated to by a subject; your man 
 shan't stand. Anne, Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery." 
 This letter has excited a general admiration; the reason of 
 which is thus explained by Dr. Campbell, in his " Philosophy 
 of Rhetoric." " We shall find," says he, " that the very same 
 sentiment expressed diffusely, will be admitted barely to be 
 just ; expressed concisely, will be admired as spirited." 
 
 Mr. Pennant characterises lady Anne Clifford as the most 
 eminent person of her age for intellectual accomplishments, for 
 spirit, magnificence, and deeds of benevolence ; and he has given 
 a particular description of two portraits of her, in the side leaves 
 of a family picture. _ Both the paintings are full lengths ; one 
 representing her at the age of thirteen, and the other in her 
 middle age, in the state of widowhood. The books in the first 
 of these pictures inform us of the fashionable course of reading 
 among people of rank in her days. There are among them 
 Eusebius, St. Augustine, Sir Pliillip Sidney's Arcadia, Godfrey 
 of Boulogne, the French Academy, Comden, Ortellius, and 
 Agrippa on the Vanity of Occult Sciences. The books in the 
 second picture consist wholly of the Bible, Charron on Wisdom, 
 and pious treatises. A narrative, or rather, a journal of her 
 own life, was left by the countess, consisting principally of 
 
140 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 minute details of the petty occurrences of a retired life, the 
 greater number of which are tedious, uniform, and but little 
 interesting. 
 
 This lady expired at Brougham, March 23d, 1675, after a 
 few days illness, in the eighty-sixth year of her age. She was 
 interred, April 14th, at Appleby, in Westmoreland, under the 
 monument she had erected. Her funeral sermon was preached 
 at Appleby, by Dr. Edward Reinbow, bishop of Carlisle, from 
 this verse : " Every wise woman buildeth her house." 
 
 Maria Maddelena Fernandez Gorilla, a celebrated im- 
 provisatrice, was born at Pistoca, in 1740, and gave, in her 
 infancy, the most unequivocal marks of uncommon genius ; and 
 her acquirements in natural and moral philosophy, and ancient 
 and modern history, were at the age of seventeen, very remarka- 
 ble. At the age of twenty she began to display that talent for 
 extempore composition, which is so common in Italy, and so un- 
 common elsewhere as to be questioned. Of this lady's abilities, 
 how^ever, we are not permitted to doubt, if we give any credit to 
 the popularity she gained among all classes, and especially 
 among persons of the highest rank. The empress Maria 
 Theresa offered her the place of female poet laureate at court, 
 which she accepted, and went to Vienna in 1765. Previous to 
 this she had married Signer Morelli, a gentleman of Leghorn. 
 At Vienna she wrote an epic poem and a volume of lyric poetry, 
 both of which she dedicated to the empress. She attracted the 
 enthusiastic admiration of Metastasio himself, and rendered the 
 taste for Italian poetry more predominant than it had ever been 
 in Vienna. Soon after 1774, she settled at Rome, and was 
 admitted a member of the Academy of the Arcadi, under the 
 name of Gorilla Olympica, and for some time continued to charm 
 the inhabitants of Rome, by her talents in improvisation. At 
 length, when Pius VI. became pope, he determined that she 
 should be solemnly crowned, an honor which had been granted 
 to Petrarch only. An account of this singular transaction, 
 beautifully printed at Parma, by Bodini, in 1779, contains her 
 diploma and all the discourses, poems, sonnets, &c., written on 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 141 
 
 the occasion, with the examination she underwent, concerning 
 her knowledge upon the most important subjects upon which 
 she was required to Improvisare, or treat extemporaneously in 
 verse, publicly at the campidoglio, in Rome. The Italian title 
 of this narrative is, " Atti della solenne coronazione fatta in cam- 
 pidoglio, della insigne poetesia D- na, Maria Maddalena Morilli 
 Fernandez Pistoiese, Tragli Arcadi Gorilla Olympica." Twelve 
 members of the Arcadian Academy were selected out of thirty, 
 publicly to examine the new edition of the Tenth Muse, which 
 has so often been dedicated to ladies of poetical and literary tal- 
 ents. Three several days were allotted for this public exhibition 
 of poetical powers, on the following subjects; sacred history, 
 revealed religion, moral philosophy, natural history, metaphy- 
 sics, epic poetry, legislation, eloquence, mythology, fine arts, and 
 pastoral poetry. 
 
 In the list of examiners appeared a prince, an archbishop, 
 three monsigneurs, the pope's physician, abati, avocati, all of 
 high rank in literature and criticism. These, severally, gave 
 her subjects, which, besides a readiness at versification, in all the 
 measures of Italian poetry, required science, reading, and know- 
 ledge of every kind. In all these severe trials she acquitted 
 herself to the satisfaction and astonishment of all the principal 
 personages, clergy, literati, and foreigners then resident at 
 Rome; among the latter was the brother of George III., the 
 duke of Gloucester. Near fifty sonnets, by different poets, with 
 odes, canzoni, terze rime, attave, canzonette, &c., produced on the 
 subject of the event, are inserted at the end of this narrative and 
 description of the order and ceremonials of this splendid, honor- 
 able, and enthusiastic homage, paid to poetry, classical taste, 
 talents, literature, and the fine arts. 
 
 This renowned lady merits some notice as a musician, as well 
 as poetess, as she sang her own verses to simple tunes, with a 
 sweet voice, and in good taste. She likewise played on the 
 violin; but at Florence, in 1770, she was accompanied on the 
 violin by the celebrated and worthy pupil of Tartini, Nordini. 
 
 Towards the close of 1780 she left Rome, with the intention 
 of passing the remainder of her life in Florence, nor did she 
 
142 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 practice her art much longer, aware that youth and beauty had 
 added charms to her performance which she no longer pos- 
 sessed. She died at Florence, November 8th, 1800. This tal- 
 ent for extemporaneous poetry, is not so rare as we imagine. 
 I have known several specimens of this talent, practiced only 
 before a few friends, but if it had been cultivated, would have 
 astonished the literati. 
 
 SuLPiciA, a Roman poetess, who lived in the reign of the 
 emperor Domitian, to whom she addressed a poem on conju- 
 gal love, which is highly praised by Martial, in one of his 
 epigrams, but unfortunately it is not extant. The only specimen 
 remaining of her productions is a fragment of a satire against 
 Domitian, composed on the promulgation of his edict for ban- 
 ishing the philosophers from Rome. This piece may be found 
 in the " Corpus Poetarum," of Mattaire, and in the " Poetse 
 Latinae Minores." The " Elegies," annexed to the fourth book 
 of those of Tibulus, have been perhaps erroneously attributed to 
 this poetess. 
 
 Anna Comnena, daughter of the emperor Alexander Com- 
 nenus I., has been rendered memorable by her talents as well 
 as her rank. In the midst of a voluptuous and frivolous court, 
 she addicted herself to the study of letters, and cultivated an 
 acquaintance with philosophers. She was married to a young 
 nobleman of distinction, Nicephorus Byrennius ; and her philo- 
 sophy had not so far mortified her ambition, but that, upon the 
 last illness of her father, she joined with the empress Irene, in 
 soliciting him to disinherit his son in favor of her husband. 
 On the failure of this scheme she excited a conspiracy for the 
 deposition of her brother; and w^hen Byrennius impeded its 
 success by his fears or scruples, she lamented that nature had 
 mistaken their sexes, for that he ought to have been the woman. 
 The plot was discovered and defeated ; and Anna was punished 
 by the confiscation of her property, which was, however, 
 restored to her by the indulgent emperor; but she appears 
 never more to have possessed any influence . at court. She 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 143 
 
 soothed the solitude of her latter years, by composing a minute 
 history of her fathers reign ; a work still extant, and which 
 forms a conspicuous portion of the collection of Byzantine histo- 
 rians. The authors of the "Journal des Savans," for 1075, 
 have spoken of this learned and accomplished lady in the fol- 
 lowing manner. " The elegance," say they, " in which Anna 
 Comnena has described, in fifteen books, the life and actions of 
 her father, and the strong and eloquent manner in which she 
 has set them of!^ are so much above the ordinary understanding 
 of women, that one is almost ready to doubt whether indeed she 
 was the author of these books. It is certain one cannot read 
 the description she has given of countries, rivers, mountains, 
 towns, sieges, battles, the reflections she makes upon particular 
 events, the judgment she passes upon imperial human actions, 
 and the digressions she makes on many occasions, without per- 
 ceiving that she must have been very well skilled in grammar, 
 rhetoric, philosophy, and mathematics ; nay, that she must have 
 had some knowledge of law, physic, and divinity ; all which is 
 very rare and uncommon in any of that sex." 
 
 Catharine de Medicis, celebrated by the French historians 
 for her talents and her crimes, daughter of Lorenzo de Medicis, 
 duke of Urbin, and of Madeline de la Tour, countess of Bou- 
 logne, was born at Florence, April 15th, 1519. Her form 
 was admirable; her aspect expressed majesty, blended with 
 softness. In the delicacy of her complexion, and the vivacity 
 of her eyes, she surpassed every other lady of the court. 
 
 She was exposed during her childhood to great danger, through 
 the animosity of the Florentines to the house of Medici, which 
 a faction had expelled from the city. She was confined for some 
 time in a monastery. 
 
 At fourteen years of age, she was given in marriage, by pope 
 Clement VII., her great uncle, to Henry, duke of Orleans, second 
 son of Francis I. The nuptials were celebrated at Marseilles, 
 October 28th, 1533, in the presence of the pope, and the king 
 of France. But her beauty and insinuating manners failed 
 to captivate the heart of her husband, who had devoted himself 
 
144 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to the maturer charms of Diana de Poitiers. The character of 
 Catherine had not yet discovered itself 
 
 Ten years after her marriage, she was delivered of a son, on 
 whom the name of his grandfather was conferred. On the de- 
 cease of Francis I., she was crowned with her husband, June 
 12th, 1540. But she possessed only the title of queen; while 
 her rival engrossed the most unbounded political influence. 
 
 An event now approached, which enabled her to throw aside 
 her mask, and to assert the native force of her mind. A tourna- 
 ment was proclaimed in the French court, on the double occasion 
 of the return of peace, and the marriage of Elizabeth of France, 
 the daughter of Catharine, (who since the birth of Francis, had 
 borne several children,) with Philip II., of Spain. Henry, in 
 breaking a lance with Montgomery, captain of his life guards, 
 was killed in the forty-first year of his age. 
 
 The court, on this catastrophe, was filled with consternation, 
 and divided by intrigues. Catherine, so long obscured, now came 
 forward, and rose in importance ; as mother to the young king, 
 her favor was eagerly courted, while her capacity and her talents 
 fitted her for the most arduous offices. Endowed with a thousand 
 great qualities, she wanted only virtue to direct them to useful 
 and honorable purposes. Her love of pleasure, of letters, of 
 magnificence, were her inferior passions, over which ambition 
 predominated. Possessing a calm and intrepid temper, no cir- 
 cumstances, however sudden, however trying, threw her ofl' her 
 guard ; she knew how to bend to circumstances, or to accommo- 
 date every thing to her purposes. Consummate in dissembling, 
 her manners were seductive, and her conversation insinuating. 
 Sprung from the blood of Cosmo de Medicis, and emulous of the 
 reputation acquired by Francis I, she affected to protect learning, 
 and cultivate the fine arts, amidst the horrors of civil war ; even 
 in the most exhausted state of the finances, she was the most 
 munificent patroness of men of letters. Expensive and lavish 
 in the spectacles which she exhibited to the court, she covered 
 under the mask of pleasure, the most atrocious designs ; planned 
 a massacre in the midst of a festival, while she caressed the 
 victims of a sanguinary policy. Cruel from ambition rather 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 145 
 
 than from temper, profuse from taste, and rapacious from neces- 
 sity, she united in her characrer, qualities apparently the most 
 discordant. The majesty of her person, the dignity of her 
 aspect, and the elegance of her dress, added lustre to her beauty, 
 which remained unimpaired to an advanced period of life. 
 
 Animated by an intemperate and barbarous zeal, the new min- 
 isters persuaded their youthful sovereign, that in persecuting the 
 huguenotts, he would adhere to the maxims and conduct of his 
 father. Catharine, with a temporising policy, endeavored, as in- 
 terest suggested, to adjust the balance between the contending 
 parties. The young king died suddenly, after a reign of little 
 more than a year. While both parties courted her as the arbi- 
 tress of their future fortunes, she employed, with infinite address 
 and coolness, the measures necessary to secure to herself the 
 first place in the government, under Charles, her son, who had 
 scarcely attained his eleventh year. 
 
 Catharine by her subtle policy, and by her pretended favor for 
 the different parties Avhich divided the kingdom, was the cause 
 of the civil wars which raged between the huguenotts and 
 catholics, the king of Navarre, the prince of Conde, and the 
 duke of Guise. 
 
 The royal army, in which was the queen and her son, after 
 taking Blois, Tours, and Bourges, laid siege to Rouen, defended 
 by Montgomery, famed in the annals of France for his fatal 
 tournament with Henry II. The courage of Catharine was truly 
 heroic ; every day, during the siege, she exposed herself to the 
 most imminent personal dangers. The duke of Guise, and the 
 constable, remonstrated with her in vain on this temerity. " Why,' ' 
 she nobly replied, " should I spare myself more than you ? Is it 
 that I have less courage, or less interest in the event ? It is true 
 that I have less personal force, but in resolution of mind I am 
 not inferior." Of what had not Catharine been capable, had this 
 grandeur of sentiment been directed by proper principles ! The 
 soldiers, in imitation of the Romans, gave to her the title of " Ma- 
 ter Castrorum." The city was carried by assauh. The king 
 of Navarre met his fate before Rouen. 
 
 After many struggles between the contending parties, with 
 
 la 
 
146 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 alternate loss and advantage, peace, so long and so ardently 
 desired, was re-established, on terms not unfavorable to the 
 huguenotts. Charles swore to preserve the treaty inviolate, and 
 to protect the colonist in every benefit it promised to confer ; 
 but under these fair appearances lurked the most cruel and 
 treacherous designs. Catharine, convinced from experience 
 that the huguenotts were not to be subdued by force, had already 
 planned the tragic spectacle which two years afterwards aston- 
 ished Europe. A project so horribly flagitious and unprece- 
 dented, has stigmatised with indelible and deserved infamy, the 
 comprehensive, yet detestable genius, which gave it birth. 
 " Like some minister of an angry deity," says an ingenious and 
 entertaining writer, " Catharine appears to have been occupied 
 only in effecting the ruin of her people, and to have marked 
 her course with carnage and devastation." 
 
 It becoming necessary to marry the king, who had entered 
 his twenty-first year, Catharine solicited for him the hand of 
 Elizabeth of England. Failing in this suit, she turned her 
 attention to the archduchess Elizabeth, daughter of the emperor 
 Maximilian II., a princess whose slender capacity threatened 
 no diminution of her influence over the mind of her son. 
 
 The marriage having been celebrated, the young queen was 
 crowned at St. Denis. Catharine displayed on this occasion 
 the magnificence of her spirit, and the elegance of her taste. 
 The entertainments exhibited at court were heightened by the 
 fictions of antiquity, and embellished by the allegories of 
 Greece and Rome. The amusements of Catharine were cha- 
 racterized by a genius, a spirit, and a refinement, that emulated 
 those of more advanced periods, and were scarcely surpassed 
 under the splendid reign of Louis XIV., the Augustan age of 
 France. " Her extraordinary and universal genius," says the 
 writer before quoted, "comprehended every thing in its em- 
 brace, and were equally distinguished at a cabinet or a banquet, 
 whether directed to the destruction or delight of mankind : in 
 her, qualities the most opposite and discordant in their nature, 
 seem to have been blended. She was enabled, by the univer- 
 sality of her talents, to pass, with the easiest transition, from 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 147 
 
 the horrors of war to the dissipations of indolence and peace ; 
 and we are forced to lament, that a capacity so exalted should, 
 from the principles hy which it was actuated, produce only 
 more general and lasting evils." 
 
 The horrid massacre of St. Bartholomew, was resolved on by 
 Catharine, but her pernicious counsels had not yet extinguished 
 in Charles' bosom every spark of honor, every sympathy of 
 humanity. He paused on the threshold of an enterprise that 
 would deliver his name with infamy to the latest posterity, and 
 overwhelm his memory with execration and abhorrence. Ob- 
 serving the paleness of his countenance, and the drops which 
 hung upon his forehead, she reproached him with pusillanimity. 
 Piqued at her contemptuous reflections, the unhappy Charles 
 gave the orders demanded of him. 
 
 The dreadful work of death commenced ; the massacre con- 
 tinued for a week, and more than five thousand persons of every 
 rank, perished. Their bodies floated on the Seine, passing in the 
 view of the tyrant, under the windows of the Louvre. Catha- 
 rine de Medicis, the demon of this destruction, beheld, without 
 pity or compunction, the misery of v/hich she had been the 
 cause ; having gazed on the head of Admiral Coligni, which 
 was presented to her, with savage delight, she sent it to Rome 
 as the most acceptable present to the sovereign pontiff! The 
 number of Calvinists put to death in the various provinces, is 
 estimated from twenty-five to forty thousand persons. 
 
 This bloody tragedy had such an effect on the mind of 
 Charles, that he did not long survive it. He expired in his 
 twenty- fifth year. May 30th, 1574. The crown descended to 
 his brother Henry, then king of Poland. Catharine acted as 
 regent until his arrival, and their meeting at Lyons was tender 
 and affecting. No alteration was made by Henry in the cabi- 
 net, in which the queen mother held a distinguished place. 
 
 The weakness of the king's subsequent conduct, which drew 
 on him the contempt of the nation, threw Catharine into a pro- 
 found melancholy : she foresaw the ruin of the state, which she 
 knew not how to avert. Her remonstrances and entreaties had 
 lost all influence over the mind of Henry, who was sunk in 
 
148 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 debauchery and the most abject superstition. He was deserted 
 by his subjects, and alike contemned both by catholics and 
 huguenotts. He involved himself with both in the most fatal 
 contentions ; the kingdom was divided by factions, and torn by 
 intestine wars. In vain were all the endeavors of Catharine 
 to rouse the mind of her degenerate son, and to inspire him 
 with a portion of her own vigor and capacity. She alternately 
 sought by negotiation and address to allay the violence of all 
 parties, and heal the wounds of the state. 
 
 Her death took place at the castle of Blois, January 5th, 1588, 
 in the seventieth year of her age. 
 
 The memory of Catharine has been, by the protestant histo- 
 rians, uniformly execrated and branded with infamy ; and the 
 part she took in the fatal massacre of St. Bartholomew, has left 
 upon her name an indelible stain. 
 
 Constance, daughter of Conan, duke of Brittany, was wife of 
 Geoflrey Plantagenet, son of Henry U., king of England. She 
 was contracted by him while they were both in the cradle, and 
 by her right Geoffrey became duke of Brittany. By him she 
 had two children, Eleanor, called the maid of Brittany, and 
 Arthur, who was born after the death of his father. She after- 
 wards married Ralph Blundeville, earl of Chester; from him 
 she was divorced, and again married Guy, brother to the "V is- 
 count Thouars. She had by him a daughter, named Alix, 
 whom the Bretons elected for their sovereign. She died in 1202. 
 
 Laura Creta, an Italian lady, was born in 1669. She was 
 learned in the languages and philosophy. She married Peter 
 Lereni, but with him she was not destined to live long. He 
 died in eighteen months after their union. She refused to enter 
 into a second connection, but devoted herself to her studies. 
 She held a correspondence with most of the great scholars and 
 philosophers in Europe, who were happy in forming an ac- 
 quaintance, through the medium of letters, with one of most 
 learned women of the age, and of the world. She died in the 
 flower of her age, and was lamented throughout Christendom. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 149 
 
 But by the jealousies of many of modern times, the writings of 
 highly educated females have not had a fair chance to see new 
 editions. This jealousy, thank Heaven, is now departing from 
 the literary horizon of Europe. 
 
 CoRiNNA, a poetess, was born at Thebes, or, according to some 
 writers at Tanagra. She was distinguished for her skill in lyric 
 verse, as well as remarkable for her personal attractions. She 
 Avas the rival of Pindar, while he was in the prime of his youth 
 and in zenith of his fame, and gained a victory over him, ac- 
 cording to some Greek writers no less than five times, but all 
 agree that she did so once. She wrote in the .^olic dialect, 
 which it is said gave her a great advantage over Pindar, who 
 wrote in the Doric, particularly as she had an -^olic auditory. 
 She was not vain of her success, for she gave Pindar some 
 wholesome criticism upon moderating the ardor of his imagina- 
 tion Most of her productions have been lost in the lapse of 
 ages ; a few fragments only have survived, but enough to show 
 what was the power of her abilities, and of her mastery over 
 rhythm. Even Pindar has been but little more fortunate, for but 
 a small portion of his poetry is extant. 
 
 Maria Cunitia, or Cunitz, a lady of great learning and 
 genius, was born in Silesia about the beginning of the seven- 
 teenth century, and became celebrated for her extensive know- 
 ledge in many branches of learning, particularly in mathematics 
 and astronomy, upon which she wrote several ingenious treatises ; 
 one of which under the title of " Urania Propitia," printed in 
 1650, in Latin and German, she dedicated to Ferdinand III., 
 emperor of Germany. In this work are contained astronomical 
 tables, of great care and accuracy, founded upon Kelper's hypo- 
 theses. She acquired languages with amazing facility; and 
 understood Polish, German, French, Italian, Latin, Greek, and 
 Hebrew. With equal care she acquired a knowledge of the 
 sciences, history, physic, poetry, painting music, both vocal and 
 instrumental, were familiar to her ; and yet they were no more 
 than her amusements. 
 
 13* 
 
150 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Her favorite study was mathematics, and especially astronomy, 
 to which she was principally devoted, and was not without reason 
 ranked among the most able astronomers of her time. She 
 married Elias De Lewin, M. D., also an astronomer ; and they 
 carried on their favorite studies for some time with equal repu- 
 tation and success, until the war penetrated into Silesia, and 
 obliged them to quit their residence at Schweinetz, for Poland, 
 which was then at peace. Upon their journey, although fur- 
 nished with the best of passports, they were robbed by the sol- 
 diers; but on their arrival in Poland were welcomed with every 
 attention. Plere she compared her astronomical tables above 
 noticed, first printed at Oels, and four years after at Frankfort. 
 Some historians fix her death at 1664, while others say that 
 she was living a Avidow in 1669 ; but all agree in her extraordi- 
 nary talents and acquirements. 
 
 Capillana, a Peruvian princess, Avho, having become a 
 widow very young, retired from court to a house she had in the 
 country; scarcely was she established there, when Pizarro 
 appeared on the coast. Having sent his people to reconnoitre 
 the country, they penetrated to the retreat of Capillana, who 
 gave them all the succors they wanted, and expressed a desire 
 to see their general. Pizarro came, and an attachment soon 
 took place between them. He knew all the advantages of such 
 a conquest ; and profiting by his ascendancy over the heart of 
 Capillana, he endeavored to persuade her to embrace the Chris- 
 tian faith. But the young princess was not easily convinced, 
 and he left off the attempt ; yet afterwards applying herself to 
 study the Spanish language, she became a convert. On the 
 death of Pizarro, she returned again to her retreat, and sought 
 consolation in the knowledge she had acquired. In the library 
 of the dominicans of Peru, a manuscript of her composition is 
 preserved, in which is painted, by her own hand, ancient Peru- 
 vian monuments, each accompanied with a short historical 
 explanation in the Castilian language. There is also a repre- 
 sentation of many of their plants, with curious descriptions on 
 their merits and properties. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 151 
 
 Victoria Colonna, an illustrious lady, distinguished for 
 her productions in Italian poetry ; was the daughter of Fabutio 
 Colonna, duke of Palliano ; she was born at Marino, in 1 490. 
 When seventeen years of age, she was married to Francis d'Ava- 
 las, marquis of Piscara. They lived together in the most perfect 
 harmony ; and she is said to have employed her influence in 
 dissuading him from accepting the crown of Naples, which was 
 offered him after the battle of Pavia, in order to detach him 
 from the interests of the emperor Charles V. After the death 
 of her husband, Avhich happened in 1525, she lived in retire- 
 ment, solacing her grief with poetry and devotion, and firmly 
 rejecting all offers of a new alliance. She entertained a friendly 
 correspondence with some of the most learned and enlightened 
 persons of the age, as the cardinals Bombo, Contarini, and Pale ; 
 the poets Flominio, Malza, Almanni, and others. For the sake of 
 a more perfect retirement, she entered a monastery at Orvieto, in 
 1546, which she soon exchanged for that of St. Catherine, in 
 Viterbo. She at length left this monastery and retired to Rome, 
 where she died in 1547. Her poems passed through four edi- 
 tions, and are much admired. They are not inferior to those 
 of the greater part of the Petrarchian versifiers of that age, and 
 are among the first in which Italian poetry was employed on 
 religious topics. The Italian muse had sung before that time 
 only war and love. 
 
 Charlotte Corde, w^as born in the department of Calvados, 
 in France, about the year 1774. During a part of the French 
 revolution, she had been in habits of confidence with many of 
 the deputies of the legislature, and her spirit was animated with 
 the greatest devotion to the cause of liberty, and of her country. 
 
 The factions which prevailed in the convention, had excited 
 her abhorrence, and amongst those whom she held most odious, 
 was the infamous Marat, whose sanguinary proscriptions, denun- 
 ciations, and maxims, had filled her soul with a determined reso- 
 lution for his destruction. She accordingly left her native home, 
 in the beginning of July, 1793, with an express determination 
 of assassinating him, which 3he effected on the evening of the 
 
152 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 day following, after conversing with him on some political topics, 
 by stabbing him to the heart with a dagger. 
 
 Having perpetrated this deed, she walked out of the house 
 with the most perfect composure, and was soon after arrested. 
 When brought before a magistrate, she looked on him with a 
 smile of the most indignant and contemptuous mockery, and 
 declared, that she gloried in releasing her country from a mon- 
 ster ; that she had fixed her mind on his death, as necessary to 
 its salvation ; that there were others, who should also perish, 
 had she the power, but as she knew she could sacrifice but one, 
 she was determined to begin with the most execrable of them 
 all. She even spoke at large in justification of the deed, as ne- 
 cessary to the honor and happiness of her country, and glorious 
 to herself; that it was due to justice to rid the world of a san- 
 guinary monster, whose doctrines were framed for indiscriminate 
 destruction, and who was already condemned by the voice of 
 public opinion. 
 
 Her deportment, during her trial, was modest and dignified. 
 There was so engaging a softness in her countenance, that it 
 was difficult to conceive how she could have armed herself with 
 sufficient intrepidity to perpetrate such a deed, or to sustain her- 
 self with so great calmness on the verge of death. She heard 
 her sentence pronounced, with attention and composure, and left 
 the court with the greatest serenity, to prepare for the last scene. 
 When on the scaffold, she behaved with the same fortitude, which 
 she had uniformly displayed from the commencement of this 
 extraordinary transaction. As the executioner was attempting 
 to tie her feet to the plank she resisted, from an apprehension 
 that he meant to insult her ; but upon his explaining himself, 
 she submitted with a smile ; and her head was immediately after 
 severed from her body. 
 
 Her portrait was in every print shop in England, and the 
 United States ; every museum had her image in wax, and her 
 name became as familiar as that of Brutus. Some few viewed 
 her as an assassin ; others as a heroine of deathless fame. It is 
 acknowledged by all her biographers, that she was virtuous in 
 her conduct, and lofty in her feelings. If Lucretia was right in 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 153 
 
 sacrificing herself for her country, Charlotte Corde could not 
 have been wrong ; if Brutus did a deed of glory by striking 
 Caesar to the heart, this female patriot was not to be censured ; 
 for Cajsar was ambitious, but not tyrannical. Marat was a cut- 
 throat and a traitor, he had deluged the country with blood. 
 There are many acts of a high character, of doubtful morality ; 
 they are exceptions to all the ordinary rules which govern hu- 
 man life, and are not dangerous as examples. Let those who 
 censure their deeds, remember that they are judging in quiet 
 times, but the acts were perpetrated when the political and moral 
 elements were in confusion. Let those who praise them consider 
 that such deeds, if to be admired, are not to be imitated, and 
 thank heaven there are but few occasions that will call them 
 forth. 
 
 Isabella Losa, de Cordova, was learned in the languages, 
 and received the honorary degree of D. D. After her husband 
 died she took the habit of St. Clair, and founded the hospital of 
 Loretto, where she retired from the world, and ended her days 
 in the bosom of devotion, in 1546, in the seventy-third year of 
 her age. At this period of the world, many learned ladies, after 
 enjoying life for a time, retired to a convent; they could not 
 find in society sufficient charms to interest them, and wanting 
 something to fill up the void, turned from the world to the duties 
 of religion, as it was then understood, and passed life away in a 
 dream, because there was not sufficient occupation to fill their 
 whole souls. If the burthens and duties of society, which are 
 now known, had then existed, the pious and enlightened might 
 have found a cure for ennui, or something to have filled up every 
 hour of existence. 
 
 Hannah Cowley, a dramatic writer, was the daughter of 
 Phillip Packhouse, Esq., a man of classical attainments, who, 
 after being educated for the church, gave up the profession, and 
 opened a book store. He gave his daughter a good education ; 
 for he discovered her talent v/hen she was quite young. She 
 married a Mr. Cowley, a gentleman of talents, and a captain in 
 
154 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the East India Company's service. He died in 1797. She 
 became a writer by accident. While attending the theatre one 
 evening with her husband, the thought came into her mind that 
 she could write as well as the author of the play then enacting, 
 and she sketched the outlines of one the next morning. She 
 wrote many pieces of great merit ; but she was never vain, or 
 neglectful of her domestic duties. Her greatest pleasure in life 
 was in the education of her children. She wrote with great 
 purity and taste. She died, March 11th, 1809; and the peri- 
 odicals of that day paid several affectionate and just tributes 
 to her memory. Her works have been published in three 
 volumes octavo. 
 
 RosALBA Carriera, an eminent female artist, was born at 
 Chiozza in 1675 ; and having shown an early taste for painting, 
 her father placed her with an artist from whom she learned to 
 paint in oil, but she afterwards practiced, and carried crayon- 
 painting to a high degree of perfection. Orlandi celebrates her 
 miniatures. Her crayon often arrives to the strength of pictures 
 in oil. Her portraits, spread over all Europe, are as elegant 
 and graceful in conception and attitude, as fresh, neat, and allu- 
 ring in color. Her Madonas, and other sacred subjects, rise 
 from grace to dignity, and even majesty. Incessant application 
 deprived her of sight in the seventy-second year of her age. 
 She lived ten years afterwards. While in this state of blindness, 
 she called up all the visions that had been in her mind when 
 she could see. She arranged her images in this hall of imagi- 
 nation and recollection. She now gazed on a Madona with the 
 eyes of her mind, and criticised it with spirit and accuracy. She 
 would often sketch a landscape with tolerably correctness when 
 every ray of the light of day had left her. Such a genius for- 
 ever enjoys the sunshine of the soul. There is a communion 
 between the blind and the world beyond human vision that ele- 
 vates the soul to the abode of the gods. Such was Homer, Mil- 
 ton, Ossian, and the strains of Carolan the blind bard of Erin, 
 and those of our own sightless Shaw, have a touch of celestial 
 music in them. 
 
FEMAtE fiI()GRAPHY. 155 
 
 Catherine II., empress of Russia, (her maiden name was 
 Sophia Augusta Frederica,) was born at Stellin, May 2d, 1729. 
 Her father, Christian Augustus, of Anhalt-Terbst-Domburgh, 
 (a small district in Upper Saxony,) was major-general in the 
 Prussian service, commander-in-chief of the regiments of in- 
 fantry, and governor of the town and fortress of Stellin. Her 
 mother, a woman of talents, born princess of Holstein, was the 
 friend and correspondent of Frederick, prince royal of Prussia. 
 Intelligence and vivacity characterised the young Sophia ; who 
 was educated under the eye of her mother : her temper was 
 commanding, and her manners dignified ; in her childish sports 
 with her companions, she assumed to herself the direction and 
 control, with a spirit and firmness which admitted of no appeal. 
 
 She resided alternately, till her fifteenth year, in Stellin, in 
 Domburgh, or in Terbst, she also accompanied her mother in 
 several journies, by which her mind was enlarged and her man- 
 ners improved. She frequently made some stay at Hamburg, 
 with her maternal grandmother, the widow of the bishop of Lu- 
 beck, at whose court she received from M. Von Brummer, gen- 
 tleman of the bedchamber, the most select productions of con- 
 temporary writers. Attached to letters, to learning, and to medi- 
 tation, she derived from these communications both profit and 
 pleasure. Her visits to Brunswick were yet more frequent, 
 where, with Elizabeth Sophia Maria, duchess dowager of Wolf- 
 enbulth, she sometimes passed the whole summer. 
 
 In December, 1743, she was instructed at Brunswick, by the 
 court preacher Dave, in the principles of the Lutheran church. 
 In the preceding year she made a visit to Berlin, for the pur- 
 pose of being present at the nuptials of the prince of Prussia. 
 She likewise revisited Prussia in the beginning of the year 
 1744, whence she proceeded to Russia. 
 
 Three years after the appointment of Peter to the succession 
 by the empress Elizabeth, by whom he had been called to Russia 
 for the purpose, it was determined to marry him. Sophia, prin- 
 cess of Anhalt-Terbst, was selected, on this occasion, by Eliza- 
 beth, for his consort. As a preliminary to these nuptials, the 
 princess embraced the formulary of the Greek church, and at 
 
156 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her invitation received the name afterwards so celehrated, of 
 Catherine Alexievna. 
 
 A cloud obscured the favorable prospects of Catherine. A 
 fever had seized her lover, accompanied by alarming symptoms. 
 The distemper terminated in a malignant small-pox, which 
 spared the life of the duke, but proved in i^s effects, a severer 
 trial of the affection of his mistress. The features of Peter suf- 
 fered a cruel alteration, his comeliness was wholly defaced, and 
 his countenance for a time scarred and distorted. 
 
 Catherine felt a secret horror on her first interview with the 
 duke, but repressing her emotions, she fell on his neck and af- 
 fectionately embraced him, with marks of the liveliest joy. The 
 impressions which had seized her, however stifled at the mo- 
 ment, were not to be effaced ; on her return to her chamber she 
 fell into a swoon, from which she revived not till after several 
 hours. With these feelings, on her recovery, ambition struggled, 
 and finally prevailed : she sought not to defer the celebration 
 of her nuptials, an event so ardently desired by her mother, 
 and which the empress anticipated with pleasure. The mar- 
 riage was accordingly solemnized, while the attachment which 
 had preceded it, and which was built on a superficial foundation, 
 was already expiring. 
 
 Brought up under the eye of a sensible mother, at no great 
 distance from the court of Frederick, the seat of the sciences 
 and arts, Catherine had, to a strong and comprehensive mind, 
 added extensive knowledge, and a facility of expressing herself, 
 in several languages, with elegance and grace. With an excel- 
 lent heart and some understanding, the education of Peter had 
 been wholly neglected; deficient in those graces and accom- 
 plishments, and in that cultivation of mind, which so eminently 
 distinguished his wife, he felt her superiority and blushed ; while 
 she repined at the fate which had united her to a man so little 
 worthy of her, and so ill suited to contribute to her happiness or 
 improvement. Their mutual disgust, which daily increased, 
 became at length but too visible to the court. 
 
 Peter had, from the moment of his arrival, been beheld with 
 distrust by the principal Russian families. Among the most 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 157 
 
 determined of his enemies was the chancellor Bestucheflfi who 
 formed the design of excluding him from the throne, and placing 
 Catherine at the head of affairs. 
 
 Among other accusations brought forward against their victim 
 was that of drunkenness, a habit he had acquired, and of which 
 the empress had ocular demonstration. Emboldened by their 
 success, the conspirators set no bounds to their calumnies, by 
 which the unfortunate prince was rendered odious to his aunt ; 
 a prey to lassitude, the inactivity in which he languished, with 
 the flexibility of his temper, gave but too many advantages to 
 the perfidy of his enemies. Persuaded of his misconduct, the 
 empress gradually withdrew from him her favor and he was 
 accustomed to retire to a palace in the country, and immure him- 
 self as a state prisoner rather than as heir to the crown. 
 
 Catherine in the mean time, guided by a shrewd and vigilant 
 mother, insinuated herself into the favor of the most consider- 
 able persons of the court ; ambition triumphed in her mind over 
 every inferior propensity, and enabled her to extort, by the pro- 
 priety of her conduct, the esteem of those whose affection she 
 failed to conciliate. The influence which her mother had over 
 her, excited the jealousy of the empress, and an order was at 
 length procured by her enemies, which compelled the princess to 
 quit the empire. Catherine would not see the departure of her 
 mother, whom the most poignant grief appeared to overwhelm, 
 without concern ; but ambition diverted her filial sorrow, which 
 the allurement of pleasure contributed more effectually to subdue. 
 
 Elizabeth, after a tedious illness and severe sufferings, the 
 consequences of intemperence, died on Christmas day, 1761. This 
 event was scarcely known, when the courtiers crowded around 
 the heir, to whom the importance of the moment gave a tempo- 
 rary firmness. The first measures of Peter were popular and 
 auspicious : to the Russian nobility and gentry he gave free- 
 dom ; he also recalled the state prisoners, with which jealousy 
 and despotism had peopled Siberia. The ordinary habits of the 
 czar, dazzled by the elevation, and influenced by the ascendancy 
 of a more vigorous genius, suffered a temporary suspension, but, 
 
 corrupted by power, he quickly relaxed into indolence and vice. 
 
 14 
 
158 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Insensibly relaxing in his great designs, the offspring of an 
 effervescent fancy rather than the dictates of a sound judgment, 
 Peter resumed, amidst a society of treacherous parasites, his 
 habits of intemperance ; whole days were passed in smoking, or 
 sunk in odious inebriety. His behaviour towards his consort 
 became capricious and unequal ; while the powers of her un- 
 derstanding extorted his homage, he failed not to intimate his 
 sense of her irregularities, and the resentment with which they 
 inspired him. At the splendid festival of the Russian church, 
 he was impoliticly content to follow as a simple colonel in the 
 suite of Catherine, who, adorned with the symbols of regal dig- 
 nity, appeared with majesty as if born to command. Catherine 
 was also left to do the honors of the court, while the czar, habit- 
 ed in the uniform of his regiment, respectfully presented to her 
 his officers and comrades. Although the great Peter had, with 
 Catherine I., acted a similar part, it should be remembered that 
 heroes and men of talents only, possessing an inherent dignity, 
 may venture to disdain adventitious advantages. 
 
 Catherine determined to oppose to the imprudence of her hus- 
 band great circumspection and address. Versed in dissimula- 
 tion, it was not difficult for her to act a part, while she employed 
 herself in gaining the hearts the czar was alienating. For phi- 
 losophy she substituted the demeanor of a bigot ; while repairing 
 daily to the churches, she prayed with the semblance of a sin- 
 cere devotee ; punctual in the observance of the Greek supersti- 
 tions, she accosted the poor with benignity, and affected homage 
 to the patriarchs, who failed not from house to house to pro- 
 claim her praises. While Peter was shut up with his compan- 
 ions and mistresses, the favorite of debauchees and buffoons, 
 the empress kept her court with mingled dignity and sweetness, 
 charming all who approached her. It was her study to attract 
 towards her every man distinguished for his talents or courage, 
 or whose intrigues promised to be useful. 
 
 The czar in the mean time, offended the Russians by his in- 
 discretions, and disgusted the foreign ministers ; and the hopes 
 of Catherine received daily accession from the imprudence of 
 her husband. Dismissed to Peterhoff, she passed her days 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 159 
 
 in one of its most retired apartments, where she meditated the 
 dethronement of Peter : her evenings were devoted to an adhe- 
 rent, converted into an intrepid conspirator by her favor. 
 
 The power of the czars, like all despotisms, is weakly found- 
 ed : resting upon the opinions and prejudices of the governed, 
 it requires a steady hand to poise it : change of manners and a 
 broken succession, had rendered revolutions in Russia not more 
 difficult than sudden. The foreign nativity of Peter enhanced 
 his danger, which his attention to foreign interests, to the preju- 
 dice of the empire, contributed to augment. 
 
 At the head of the conspiracy to depose Peter, were Orloff, 
 and Odart, and the Princess Dashkoff It was two in the morn- 
 ing, when Catherine, ignorant of what was passing, and lulled 
 in a profound sleep, found herself suddenly roused by a soldier 
 to whose person she was a stranger, " Your majesty," said he, 
 " has not a moment to lose ; arise, get ready and follow me." 
 Having thus spoken, he instantly disappeared. The empress, 
 astonished and terrified, called her favorite woman ; having 
 dressed in haste, they disguised themselves so as to be unknown 
 to the sentinels. Scarcely were they prepared when the soldier 
 returned, from whom they learned that a carriage awaited them 
 at the garden gate. They found there a coach, which, by the 
 princess Dashkoif, had been kept in readiness, under the pre- 
 tence of a rural excursion, at the house of one of her peasants, 
 a few miles from Peterhoff^ and for which Alexey, the brother of 
 Orloff, had sent a comrade. 
 
 Catherine, with her attendant, having entered the carriage, 
 the reins were seized by Alexey, who set off at full speed. 
 Nearly exhausted with anxiety and fatigue, yet command»:ng 
 herself enough to assume a sedate and tranquil air, she reached 
 the city at seven in the morning, July 9th, 1762. 
 
 She proceeded immediately to the quarter of the Ismailoff 
 guards, of which three companies had been won over to her 
 party : but they were not permitted by the chiefs of the conspi- 
 racy, to leave their barracks till the appearance of the empress, 
 lest precipitation should ruin their plan. At the report of her 
 arrival, thirty of the soldiers, half dressed, ran out to receive 
 
160 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her with shouts of joy. Alarmed at the smallness of their num- 
 ber, she hesitated for a moment, and at length assured them in a 
 tremulous voiee, " that she had been driven by her danger to 
 the necessity of asking their assistance ; that her death, together 
 with that of her son, had been decreed by the czar that very 
 night ; that flight had been her only means of escape ; and that 
 her confidence in their attachment had led her to put herself 
 into their hands !" Her auditors trembled with indignation, and 
 swore to die in her defence. 
 
 Their example, with that of the hetman, their colonel, who 
 presently joined them, collected others, who, led by curiosity, 
 flocked about the empress in great number, and with one consent 
 declared her sovereign. The chaplain of the regiment being 
 immediately summoned, a crucifix was brought from the altar, 
 on which the oath of the troops was received. Amidst the 
 tumult, some voices were heard proclaiming Catherine regent, 
 but these were overborne by the threats of Orloff^ and the more 
 numerous cries of " Long live the empress !" 
 
 All these advantages were attained within two hours. The 
 empress already beheld herself surrounded by two thousand 
 warriors, and a large proportion of the inhabitants of Peters- 
 burg, who mechanically followed the soldiers. By the advice 
 of the hetman, she repaired to the church of Kassan, where 
 every thing had been prepared for her reception. As she pass- 
 ed along, attended by a numerous suite, the windows and doors 
 were crowded with spectators, who mingled their acclamations 
 with the shouts of the troops. The archbishop of Novogorod, 
 arrayed in his sacerdotal robes, accompanied by a train of priests, 
 to whom long beards and hoary heads gave a venerable appear- 
 ance, waited at the altar to receive her, placed on her head the 
 imperial crown, and in a loud voice, proclaimed her under the 
 name of Catherine II., sovereign of all the Russias; declaring 
 at the same time the young grand duke, Paul Petrovitch, to be 
 her successor. A Te Deum was then chanted, accompanied by 
 the shouts of the multitude. 
 
 Peter was thunderstruck at the intelligence of the revolution. 
 After several ineffectual attempts to regain the favor of the 
 
EEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 161 
 
 people, he was induced by the treacherous counsel of IsmailofT, to 
 give himself up as a prisoner ; when he was treated with much 
 indignity. He was prevailed upon to sign a paper, renouncing 
 all claims to- the crown. He was afterwards removed to a little 
 imperial retreat, at Ropscha, where he w^as barbarously poison- 
 ed, and suffocated by Alexius Orloff Of her innocence of this 
 atrocious act, the general conduct and character of the empress 
 seems to afford a presumption ; at least it appears probable that 
 respecting so horrible a service, her partisans "vvould, from de- 
 cency forbear to consult her : a subject so delicate, and of so 
 difficult decision, to lead to the side of candor is the undoubted 
 part of the historian. The victim of his v»^eakness rather than 
 of his vices, it is impossible not to contemplate the fate of Peter 
 with the sincerest commiseration. While Catherine governed 
 her subjects with a lenity to which they had been strangers, 
 she displayed to foreign courts the strength of her character. 
 Combining policy with firmness, she found means to soothe the 
 most dangerous of the clergy, and to stop the cabals of the 
 monks. Ambition had not stifled in her bosom the love of 
 pleasure, by which she attached to herself the courtiers ; but 
 amusement was not suffered to interfere with business. The em- 
 press applied herself alternately to either with equal attention, 
 and with equal ardor. She assisted at the deliberation of the 
 council, read the despatches from her ambassadors, dictated, or 
 with her own hand minuted,gthe answers to be sent, and attend- 
 ed to the details of their execution. Jealous of glory, she 
 placed before her as models the example of those monarchs 
 who had, by their illustrious qualities and the grandeur of their 
 exploits, effaced the recollection of their weaknesses; and -with 
 the frailty of men, merited, as the friends and benefactors of 
 their species, the praise and gratitude of posterity. " We 
 should be constant in our plans," said she, " it is better to do 
 amiss, than to alter our purpose — none but fools are irresolute.'" 
 Such were her favorite maxims. 
 
 While the empire enjoyed peace with foreign princes, inter- 
 nal maladies fermented in its bosom, which neither the severity 
 
 nor the clemency of the empress had yet been able wholly to 
 
 14* 
 
162 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 eradicate: the state of the finances, and the dictates of policy, 
 forbade her to divert the attention of the public by brilliant no 
 velties or successful enterprises. The administration of her 
 estates, the advancement of commerce, the augmentation of the 
 marine, and the revenues of the nation, engrossed, by turns, her 
 attention and care. The necessity for economy was pressing 
 and obvious, but the temper of Catherine, and the magnificence 
 of her spirit, Avould not permit her to renounce that oriental 
 splendor, for which, since the commencement of the reign of 
 Elizabeth, the court of Petersburg had been distinguished and 
 famed : a splendor which appeared the more necessary during 
 a profound peace, and in an unsettled state of the empire, to at- 
 tract and dazzle the eyes of the nation. 
 
 After the business with her ministers was transacted, the 
 empress would converse in private with Besturcheff and Mu- 
 nich. With the former she studied politics and the affairs of 
 Europe ; while the latter consulted her respecting the execution 
 of a plan, meditated during his exile in Siberia, for driving the 
 Turks from Constantinople ; a project which gratified her as- 
 piring temper. 
 
 But in distant views of ambition or interest, the empress neg- 
 lected not her domestic regulations ; she studied the duties of a 
 sovereign, and considered herself as the mother of her people, 
 whom she treated with confidence, and whose condition she 
 ameliorated. In her first maniftsto on her accession to the 
 throne, she says, " We wish to prove how far we merit the 
 love of our people, for whose happiness we acknowledge our 
 throne to be established: and we solemnly promise on our 
 imperial word, to make, in the empire, such arrangements, 
 that the government may, with an intrinsic force, support it- 
 self within proper and limited bounds ; each department of the 
 state being provided with wholesome laws, sufficient to the pre 
 servation of order, at all times, and in all circumstances." 
 
 Catherine ordained that torture should no more be used in the 
 investigation of truth ; and with Frederick of Prussia, afforded 
 on this occasion an example to Europe, Her criminal laws 
 breathe throughout a spirit, mild and gentle; if she made no 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 163 
 
 VOWS, like Elizabeth, her predecessor, to avoid the infliction of 
 death, capital punishments were, during her long reign, very rare. 
 
 Amidst these regulations, she neglected not the study of a more 
 important science, that of human nature and of her own mind, 
 of which she truly appreciated the powers and resources. In a 
 confidential conversation with the minister of France, she re- 
 quired of him his opinion respecting the duration of a peace, 
 recently concluded between Austria and Prussia. The minister 
 replied, " that the exhaustion of the people, and the Avisdom of 
 the sovereigns, seemed to promise a long tranquility," but added, 
 with a compliment to her sagacity, " that she, who by her forces 
 could direct them at will, was better enabled to appreciate the 
 political systems of the courts of Europe." "You think then," 
 said Catherine, assuming an air of humility, " that Europe at 
 present has its attention fixed on me, and that I am not without 
 weight in foreign courts." The ambassador, of course, replied 
 in the affirmative. The empress having listened to him with 
 apparent pleasure, exclaimed with dignity, " I do indeed believe 
 that Prussia merits attention. I have the finest army in the 
 world. I am short of money, it is true, but shall be abundantly 
 provided within a few years. If I give the reins to my incli- 
 nation, my taste is for war rather than for peace, but reason, 
 justice, and humanity, restrain me. Yet I will not, like the 
 empress Elizabeth, allow myself to be pressed to make war. 
 Whenever it shall prove to my advantage, I w^ll assuredly enter 
 upon it; but^ never through complaisance to others." To this 
 she added, " that till after five years, the world could not properly 
 judge of her character ; that period it would at last require to 
 reduce the empire to order, and to reap the fruit of her cares. 
 In the mean time, she should act towards all the princes of 
 Europe like a finished coquette." These expressions, which 
 the minister imputed to vanity were literally true. 
 
 The beneficial consequences of the regulations and establish- 
 ments of Catherine, became daily more apparent through all 
 parts of the empire. The government more simply organized 
 and animated with a new energy, displayed a spirit of independ 
 ence worthy ?. great nation. " The volumes of modern history," 
 
164 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 says a historian, " can produce no reign like this ; for no mon- 
 arch has ever yet succeeded in the attainment of such a dictatur^ 
 in the grand republic of Europe as Catherine II. now holds; 
 and none of all the kings, who have heretofore given cause to 
 dread the erection of a universal monarchy, seem to have any 
 knowledge of human nature; she presents herself with the pride 
 of a conqueror in the m.ost perilous situations, and with a 
 total new dignity, in the most common transactions. And it is 
 manifestly not only the supreme authority which here gives 
 law, but the judgment which knows when to show that authority, 
 and when to employ it." 
 
 Catherine knew how to assign limits to the encroachments of 
 those whom she favored with her esteem and friendship ; to 
 punish those w^ho had offended her ; and to issue her commands 
 with mildness and firmness. Mistress of her passions, however 
 moved, she controlled their emotions, and appeared tranquil till 
 the moment when the maturity of her plans insured success. 
 Judicious in her bounty, she bestowed, by her manner of con- 
 ferring them, a double value on her favors. While she gave 
 laws to Poland, amused Austria, conciliated Prussia, and treated 
 with England, she extorted the respect of every court in Europe. 
 She gave to the commerce of Russia a new spirit, augmented 
 its navy, softened the manners of the people, and advanced the 
 progress of civilization. 
 
 In the midst of these occupations, the turbulence of internal 
 division continued to interrupt and harrass her; every day 
 teemed with plots and conspiracies, from which her prudence 
 and her fortune combined to deliver her. The favors she shower- 
 ed on those whom it was important to conciliate, but stimulated 
 their rapacity; her punishments, though secret and terrible, 
 proved unavailing to preserve her from new outrages. 
 
 Useful institutions were erected, and reform made ; the tribu- 
 nals were corrected, schools founded, hospitals bulk, and colonies 
 planted. She sought to inspire the nation with a respect for the 
 laws, and, by instruction, to soften their manners. Rapacious 
 of power, and jealous of glory, she aimed at once to be a legis- 
 latrix and a conqueror. Amidst internal dissensions, and prepa- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 165 
 
 rations for war, amidst public pleasures and private indulgen- 
 cies, she committed nothing that might attract the admiration of 
 her contemporaries, and consign her name with renown to pos- 
 terity. 
 
 Peter the Great, so worthy of admiration, and so justly cele- 
 brated, had framed no permanent laws. To Catherine II. the 
 work of legislation was left ; it was she only who, having con- 
 ceived the grand idea, had the courage and magnanimity to put 
 it in execution. A code of laws, founded on truth and justice, 
 was, by a woman, presented to the Russian empire. 
 
 Proud of the work which had obtained her this flattering 
 homage, copies of her instructions were dispatched to those 
 sovereigns whose esteem she courted. Having complimented 
 her labors, they hesitated not to pronounce, that they would 
 aflbrd to her honor an eternal monument. The king of Prussia, 
 among other flattering observations, thus expressed himself: 
 Semiramis commanded armies, Elizabeth of England was ac- 
 counted a politician, but no woman has hitherto been a legisla- 
 trix ; a glory reserved for the empress of Russia, who so well 
 deserves it. 
 
 Catherine died very suddenly, on the fifth of November, 1796. 
 She still retained at her death, vestiges of beauty, though nearly 
 seventy years of age. She was of the middle stature, and carry- 
 ing her head high, appeared tall. Her hair was auburn ; her 
 eye-brows dark, and her eyes blue; her countenance, though 
 not deficient in expression, never betrayed what passed in her 
 mind ; a mistress of dissimulation, she knew how to command 
 her features. She became corpulent as she advanced in years, 
 yet her carriage was graceful and dignified. In private she in- 
 spired, by her conciliatory manners, confidence and good humor, 
 youth, playfulness, and gaiety appeared to surround her. But 
 in public, and on proper occasions, she knew how to assume 
 the empress, to appear, the Semiramis of the North, and to 
 awe by her frowns. She wore a green gown or vest, with close 
 sleeves reaching to the wrist : her hair lightly powdered, and 
 flowing upon her shoulders, was crowned with a small cap 
 covered with diamonds : in the latter period of her life she put 
 
166 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 on a great quantity of rouge. In her habits and diet she was 
 strictly temperate : she took a light breakfast, ate a moderate 
 dinner, and had no supper. 
 
 The estimate of her character must be formed from her actions : 
 her reign was perhaps for her people rather brilliant than happy. 
 Within the circle of her influence, her government was mo- 
 derate and benign ; at a distance terrible and despotic ; under 
 the protection of her favorites, justice, order, and law, were 
 sometimes violated, and the most odious tyranny practised with 
 impunity. Her situation in the empire, delicate and often criti- 
 cal, restrained her judgment ; it was by suflfering her power to 
 be abused that she was enabled to preserve it ; she knew how 
 to reward, but dared not always punish. 
 
 For her licentiousness as a woman no excuse can be offered ; 
 as a sovereign she must be allowed the title of great. If her 
 love of glory too often assumed the features of a destructive am- 
 bition, the praise of an enlightened and magnanimous mind 
 cannot be denied to her. 
 
 It has been well observed, that the splendor of her reign, the 
 magnificence of her court, her institutions, her monuments, and 
 her victories, were to Russia what the age of Louis XIV., had 
 been to Europe. As an individual, the character of Catherine 
 had a better title to great. The French formed the glory of 
 Louis, Catharine that of the Russians ; she reigned not like 
 him over a polished people, nor had she his advantages. She 
 had a nation to form, and her measures were her own ; however 
 deceived or seduced, she suffered not herself to be governed. 
 Humane and generous, cheerful and amiable, she constituted the 
 happiness of those who surrounded her. Her active and regu- 
 lar life, her firmness, courage, and sobriety, were moral qualities 
 of no mean value ; corrupted by prosperity, and intoxicated with 
 success, her errors of a darker hue, were those of her station, 
 rather than of her heart. The barbarous country, over which 
 she reigned, the grossness of its manners, and the difficulties 
 with which she had to struggle, must not be forgotten in form- 
 ing an estimate of her character. Whatever may have been her 
 faults, and doubtless they were great, her genius, her talents, her 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 167 
 
 courage, and her success, must ever entitle her to a high rank 
 among those women whose qualities and attainments have 
 thrown a lustre on their sex. She aspired to the character of 
 an author, to which, by her celebrated ''Instructions for a 
 Code of Laws ^^ her dramatic pieces and proverbs, her tales and 
 allegories, for the improvement of her grand children, she is 
 justly entitled. Among the productions of her pen, her " Let- 
 ters to Voltaire" are accounted the most interesting. She com- 
 posed also for the imperial family a plan of education, compiled 
 principally from the writings of Locke and Rosseau, which re- 
 flects infinite credit on her liberality and discernment. 
 
 Cornelia, the daughter of Scipio Africanus the elder, was 
 
 the mother of the two Gracchii. She is sometimes called Sem- 
 
 pronia, a name common to the female decendants of the Sempro- 
 
 nii, Gracchii and Scipios. She was a woman of great learning 
 
 and virtue, and possessed the most exalted sentiments of human 
 
 nature. It is said that she was courted by a king, but preferred 
 
 being the wife of a Roman citizen, to that of a monarch. Her 
 
 husband Sempronius was a man of exalted character, but not of 
 
 the patrician order as she was. Sempronius was twice consul 
 
 and once censor. He made war in Gaul, and met with much 
 
 success in Spain. Cornelia was early in life a widow, and had 
 
 the chief care of her children. She educated them in the great 
 
 doctrines of liberty and patriotism, and foresaw their future glory 
 
 when only children. The story of her pride in them is familiar 
 
 to all. When a Campanian lady made a show of her jewels at 
 
 Cornelia's house, and entreated her to favor her with a sight 
 
 of her own, Cornelia produced her two sons, when they returned 
 
 from school, saying, " these are the only jewels of which I can 
 
 boast." The education she gave them made them inordinately 
 
 ambitious, but at the same time nobly patriotic. When they 
 
 were quite young, she was impatient to see them taking a part 
 
 for the glories of Rome, which she saw were expiring in the 
 
 hands of the patricians. This excellent mother did not leave 
 
 their education even when they had reached manhood, for she, 
 
 by her eloquence persuaded them to study Greek philosophy, 
 
168 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in which all the ennobling principles of freedom are to be found. 
 Tiberius, the eldest son, served at the siege of Carthage, and 
 was the first man who mounted the walls of the burning city. 
 While yet a mere youth, he was received into the college of 
 augurs, an honor conferred upon gray-headed virtue. He 
 was also a nujestor to the Consul Mansinus, while he wasfed 
 war against Neumantinus, in Spain. His diplomatic talents 
 were conspicuously displayed in making a treaty with this 
 people, favorable to Rome. The senate were too corrupt to 
 ratify an honest treaty ; but all their influence could not make 
 Tiberius Gracchus unpopular, although it was exerted to the 
 fullest extent. 
 
 He now became a determined enemy of the senate, and his 
 mother prompted him to a vigorous course to save the country 
 from the baneful effects of aristocracy. He saw that the patri- 
 cians ground the face of the poor, and by their avarice and 
 extortion had made the mass of the nation wretchedly destitute. 
 On his return from the army, he offered himself as a candidate 
 for the tribuneship of the people, which ofiice rendered his per- 
 son inviolable as long as he was entrusted with it, and placed 
 him in a situation to advance the great plans for the improvement 
 of the condition of the people in a legal way. To effect this, he 
 revived an old law, passed two hundred and thirty-two years 
 before, and had become obsolete, called an agrarian law, which 
 enacted that no more than five hundred acres of the public lands 
 should be possessed by any person. This law was revived with 
 many softening features ; but, yet it was stoutly opposed. The 
 most alarming convulsions ensued. He was opposed by Marcus 
 Octavius, his colleague in the tribune- ship, who, as he had a 
 legal right, put his veto on the law; but Tiberius appealed to the 
 tribes, and Octavius was expelled from his ofiice. Tiberius 
 found great difficulty in carrying this law into effect, after it was 
 passed. The time for another election came round again before 
 the law could go into operation, from the difficuhy of ascertaining 
 what were public and what were private lands ; and in the 
 tumults of this election, Tiberius, and three hundred of his 
 faithful adherents, were slain. The aristocrats, by bribery and" 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 169 
 
 corruption, carried the day, and gave another stab to the liberties 
 of Rome. The Sempronian or agrarian law was still in force ; 
 that is, it was not repealed; and there was a state of confusion 
 for ten years, when Cains Gracchus obtained the tribuneship, in 
 the year of Rome 630. He was a man of more talents than his 
 brother, and had lived more with his great mother. His 
 eloquence was of a high order for a popular assembly. His 
 voice was loud, his articulation clear, and his knowledge of 
 Roman history and Rom'^n politics, all from the instruction of 
 his mother, and from his own sagacity. He began his course as 
 tribune by striking a blow at his brother's enemies, exiling some 
 of the most influential senators. He revived his brother's law, 
 and united to it some of the most popular decrees, viz. : that 
 monthly distributions of corn should be made to the poor in 
 Rome, and ensured his soldiers pay and clothing : they had 
 previously fought only for fame. He was idolized by the people, 
 and his enemies greatly weakened. By his exertions, the eques- 
 trian order became the administrators of justice, and the senate 
 was confined to their political and executive power. This noble 
 feature in government has been retained to the present day in 
 all nations who boast of freedom. In these struggles for the 
 liberties of his country, enemies arose, who, with larger promises, 
 but with no patriotism, gained the hearts of the fickle populace. 
 In the third struggle for the tribuneship, Caius lost his election; 
 and in a commotion, which arose from a proposition to repeal 
 a part of the Sempronian law, was slain with several thousand 
 of his followers. The agrarian law was not long repealed; 
 but the senate had, by his power, and eloquence, and measures, 
 received a vital stab. They never again secured their power, or 
 regained the reverence which for ages they had received from 
 the people. Cornelia survived her son Caius, and gloried in the 
 struggles he had made for liberty. When some one offered her 
 the usual condolence on the death of her son, she replied, " Can 
 the mother of the Gracchii want consolation?" It is not too 
 much to say, that the enlightened mind of Sempronia Cornelia 
 gave to government the division of the judicial from the legis- 
 lative power, which is the strength and beauty of all liberty. 
 
 15 
 
170 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Eleanor Davis. The character of man is not only domestic, 
 but, is in a greater or less degree, at all times, connected with the 
 public. He is constantly in some way before the eyes of his 
 fellow citizens, and they are the judges of his understanding, his 
 disposition, his acquirements, his talents and his virtues. But 
 this is not the case, in general, with woman ; she may possess 
 virtues and talents, know^n only to a few of her kindred and 
 friends, and may pass on through life without attracting the 
 notice, or securing the homage her virtues deserve. But not- 
 withstanding her course may be silent and unobtrusive, yet her 
 influence is felt in the education of her children, and in the hap- 
 piness of those around her. There is hardly a distinguished 
 name amongst men, the direction of whose course, and the first 
 impress of whose character, could not be traced to a virtuous 
 and an intellectual mother ; and some of the finest effusions of 
 genius in the literature of all countries, are found in the acknow- 
 ledgement of this debt of gratitude to those who rocked the 
 cradle of infancy, taught the new-born limbs their uses, the 
 tongue its first accents, and watched the first rays of mental light 
 to kindle them into thought, and, as it were, to assist the bene- 
 ficent Creator in forming man after his own image. The phi- 
 losopher, the philanthropist, and even the conunon observer, 
 know and appreciate these silent and constant virtues of woman ; 
 but the biographer, from various causes, seizes upon the splendid, 
 the beautiful, or the extremely unfortunate, for his page, as easier 
 to draw and finish, and more attractive in exhibition, than solid 
 worth ; but were we to sit down with patience, and mark the 
 lineaments of a quiet, delicate, and refined woman, in her retire- 
 ment, the labor would be more valued than the details of a battle 
 field, or the wonders of a traveller in a distant land. The sacred 
 writings are sweetly interspersed with sketches of female excel- 
 lence. Women are described as holding high places in the 
 walks of poetry, prophecy, government, and religion. The songs 
 of Miriam and Deborah, the fervent piety of Hannah, the lofty 
 courage and commanding talents of Judith, the faith of Anna, 
 and the devotion of Mary, are naturally and charmingly inter- 
 woven with the history of the Jews and the progress of religion. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 171 
 
 Every age of civilization has left some permanent record of their 
 influence upon the destinies of man. There was not a district in 
 Greece which did not produce distinguished females, whose 
 names have come down to us as models of virtue ; and where 
 Lucretia bled, and the mother of the Gracchii brought up her 
 sons, the proudest orators have breathed the noblest strains of 
 their eloquence over departed females — the illustrious matrons 
 of Rome. On the revival of letters in the fourteenth century, 
 the female mind was richly cultivated, and took a higher rank in 
 the scale of mental dignity, than the dark ages had suffered it to 
 assume. Women, perhaps, are more generally enlightened at 
 the present day, than in any period of history ; but modesty is 
 now considered the choicest jewel in the casket of female worth, 
 and a shrinking delicacy has prevented many, of the first grade 
 of eminence, from suffering themselves to be mentioned to the 
 public while they were living, and their friends, infected with the 
 same feelings, have foreborne to write their epitaphs. If this sen- 
 timent had always been indulged, " Sidney^ s sister and Pem- 
 broke's mother^^ would never have been held up as an example 
 of goodness, wisdom and purity. The good sense of the age, 
 however, is struggling with this overstrained modesty, and is 
 bringing forward the merits of the living and the dead ; and the 
 biographer and the historian are preparing ample annals of 
 female worth. 
 
 The subject of this memoir, Mrs. Eleanor Davis, was the 
 daughter of William Downs Cheever, Esq., a distinguished 
 merchant of Boston, in which city he was born in the year 1720. 
 He was a grandson of Richard Cheever, of the city of Canter- 
 bury, in England, who emigrated to this country when only a 
 child, in 1668. The second son of Richard was Daniel, the 
 father of William D. Cheever ; he was born in Boston, in 1696. 
 The father of Mrs. Davis was a merchant in extensive business, 
 previous to the revolution, and was considered an intelligent, 
 active and upright man.* He died in 1778, much lamented by 
 
 * In the year 1637, there came over from Canterbury, in England, a certain 
 Bartholomew Cheever, aged then about thirty years, who settled here in Bos- 
 ton. With what he brought, by his frugality and industry, he saved a hand- 
 
172 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 that good people of the commonwealth. Blest with consider- 
 able property, he gave his children every advantage the country 
 afforded in their education, which they improved to the satis- 
 faction of a fond, indulgent father. Eleanor Cheever, his daugh- 
 ter, was born in 1750. This was an age when inquiry had 
 commenced, and many of the prejudices against female educa- 
 tion were passing away. A daughter was taught something 
 more than simply to write her name, if occasion should require 
 it, to a bond or deed: and household affairs, though well 
 attended, were not supposed to comprise the whole duties of 
 woman. On early associations, depends, in a great degree, the 
 future cast of character. In these associations, Mr. Cheever' s 
 family were indeed fortunate, for amongst his most imtimate 
 friends, was the great Dr. Mayhew, pastor of the Avest church 
 in Boston. These gentlemen were of the same age, and of 
 kindred tastes. The Doctor was an ardent controversialist, and 
 incessantly engaged in the great work of advancing the march 
 of civil and religious liberty. With deep erudition for the age in 
 which he lived, with expanded views of man and his duties, of 
 nature and her laws, of God and his protecting care, he fear- 
 
 some estate for the then times. He having no children of his own, in 1667, 
 sent to Canterbury, to his brother Daniel, for one of his sons; the two first 
 refused coming; his third and youngest son, Richard, then seven years old, 
 accepted, and in 1668 came over to his uncle, and brought over with him this 
 bible; when leaving Canterbury, it was given him by his father's sister, Mary 
 Fuller. His uncle educated and brought him up. In 16S0, this Richard mar- 
 ried, and had many children, sons and daughters. His eldest son he called 
 Bartholomew, after his uncle who sent for and educated him. In the year 
 1693, Bartholomew Cheever made his will, and died, aged eighty-six years. 
 He left many legacies to his brother Daniel's children and others. One full 
 third of his estate, with the improvement of the remainder, he left to his wife 
 Lydia, during her natural life; and after her death, then to his cousin Richard, 
 during his natural hfe; and after said Richard's decease, then to said Rich- 
 ard's eldest son Bartholomew. Richard Cheever died in France, taken sick 
 on his way home to England, about the year 1704. Bartholomew Cheever, 
 having possession of the estate left him by his great uncle and father, im- 
 proved the same many years, and in April 18th, 1772, he died aged eighty-eight 
 years. He having no children, and having buried two wives, after giving 
 several legacies, left the use and residue of his estate to me, his brother 
 Daniel's eldest son, who had then been sixteen years in partnership with him 
 in the sugar baking business. — From the family bible of W. D. Cheever. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 173 
 
 lessly went forth to the conflicts which the enlightened are 
 doomed to wage with bigots in religion and politics, conscious 
 of his strength, and well skilled in his weapons, truth, argu- 
 ment, and satire. His great hopes of success seemed to rest, not 
 on his contemporaries, but on the rising generations, who, in 
 his mind, were to have opportunities for knowledge far superior 
 to those which their fathers had enjoyed. He seized all occa- 
 sions to give them instruction, and to direct their intellectual pur- 
 suits. At the fireside of his friend and parishioner, Mr. Cheever, 
 Dr. Mayhew freely discussed the great objects of his exertions, 
 and gave his reasons for believing that his sentiments would 
 ultimately prevail. Mrs. Davis was at that time of sufficient 
 age to profit by these conversations, and there can be no doubt of 
 their influence on her opinions and feelings through life. Such 
 impressions, so engraven, can never feel the benumbing influence 
 of years, particularly, when they were so soon consecrated by 
 the death of their author. Dr. Mayhew died in 1766, in the 
 forty-sixth year of his age. His death was felt as the extin- 
 guishment of a great light in the intellectual world. The lovers 
 of civil and religious liberty mourned his loss as the loss of 
 one Avho was lovely and pleasant in his life, and of one also^ 
 who, in all his contests, when he went for the ark of God, came 
 back victorious ; one whose bow turned not back, and whose 
 sword returned not empty, when he assailed the Philistines 
 w^ho had attacked the camp of Israel. 
 
 Eleanor Cheever was married to Caleb Davis in 1787. She 
 had lived a single life to a period when it may be supposed that 
 she cousulted her judgment in the choice of a husband. At 
 the time of this marriage, Mr. Davis was a widower, with 
 several children ; but he was distinguished for talents, sweetness 
 of disposition, correct morals, and a religious life and conver- 
 sation, and was then in office, both in church and state. He was 
 a deacon of Hollis Street Church — had been speaker of the 
 house of representatives — was then a member of the senate of 
 the commonwealth, for Suffolk, and afterwards closed his public 
 services as a member of the convention which adopted the 
 
 federal constitution. He filled all the offices he was called to 
 
 15* 
 
174 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 accept, with ability and integrity, but in the convention he was 
 peculiarly useful, from his extensive acquaintance with the mem- 
 bers from the country, by the way of business, and as a member 
 of the general court. This gave him an opportunity to meet 
 his old friends, and to communicate with them freely on the 
 necessity of establishing some form of government for the 
 United States. All the talents of the ablest politicians of that 
 day, were put in requisition to wrestle with the prejudices of 
 those who feared to part with power, which might never be 
 regained, and to close in, and grapple with the demagogue, 
 whose chance of distinction in a great measure depended upon 
 the agitations of society. 
 
 This connexion proved a happy one. They had two chil- 
 dren, a daughter and a son; but still it was a union which tried 
 her virtues, the constancy of her attachment, and the strength 
 of her understanding; for the latter part of her husband's days 
 was to him only a nominal existence. The powers of his mind 
 and body were instantly prostrated by a paralysis. There is 
 nothing in this world of sorrow more painful to a feeling heart, 
 than to see " a mighty mind o'erthrown," and a once graceful 
 jform wasting with a lingering and incurable disease. For 
 many years, while her husband was in that state, Mrs. Davis 
 performed the duties of a nurse to him, and gave up all society 
 to attend him; and it will never be forgotten by his kindred and 
 friends, that her patience was never exhausted, nor her kindness 
 towards him ever impaired. She kept, for years, a constant 
 vigil over the sufferer, and with connubial solicitude and medi- 
 cal skill marked each successive tremor, and met with increased 
 affection each new-born weakness, until exhausted nature sunk 
 to the grave ; and then she was not relieved, as one might have 
 expected her to have been, after such uncommon exertions, but 
 she mourned his loss as though he had died in the possession 
 of his faculties, and in the midst of his usefulness. This is 
 friendship which is something more than a name, or a shade 
 which follows wealth and fame. This is love which is not an 
 empty sound, but is as pure as that which warms the nestling, 
 and is as imperishable as the soul on which it is engrafted. At 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 175 
 
 this bereavement she found consolation in the attentions and 
 conversation of her friend and pastor, the Rev. Dr. West, of the 
 Hollis Street Church, with which she became connected on her 
 marriage with Mr. Davis. She was again singularly happy in 
 this acquaintance, for the doctor united the kindest elements of 
 our nature with the refinements of taste, the charms of know- 
 ledge, and the graces of religion. If her first mental and spirit- 
 ual guide bore a resemblance to him who was the harbinger of 
 revelation, and who cried in the wilderness to prepare the 
 way, the second had no small share of those evangelical virtues 
 which distinguished him whom his master loved, and suffered 
 to repose on his bosom. Such men are born to soothe the widow 
 in her grief, and to bless the lonely orphan. 
 
 At the death of her husband, Mrs. Davis found, from his pro- 
 tracted sickness, that his affairs were in no small confusion; but 
 this did not dismay her. She commenced a system for retriev- 
 ing them, which at once showed her capability and aptitude for 
 business. Her agents were judiciously selected, but however 
 confidential they might be, she never relied entirely upon them, 
 but constantly supervised their doings ; and by this steady exact- 
 ness, this caution and perseverance, one difficulty after another 
 vanished, and order and stability ensued. But when this was 
 effected, she did not, as most women would have done, retire 
 from business, and live on the income of her property. She had 
 found that her business had been profitable, and her agent wor- 
 thy of all confidence, and in her mind the course was plain ; and 
 her exertions, though confined to a succinct course, ceased only 
 with her life. 
 
 In all our concerns, from the highest to the humblest station, 
 much depends upon those we seek for counsel and advice. 
 There are many times, on the journey of life, where the path- 
 way is doubtful, from diverging roads and equivocal aspects. 
 Then the honest and way-wise traveller is of incalculable advan- 
 tage to us. In arranging her affairs after the death of her hus- 
 band, Mrs. Davis found in her brother in law, John Derby, 
 Esq., such a counsellor and friend. He had been abroad, and 
 was well acquainted with business, and always kept the interests 
 
176 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of his friends near his heart. He entered fully into the welfare 
 of Mrs. Davis and her family, and such was his attention and 
 substantial friendship to them, that it seemed heaven had written 
 him childless, that her children might find in him a father, when 
 '^ their father was no more. 
 
 I As a mother, Mrs. Davis was fond and indulgent, but her 
 
 affection seldom overcame her prudence. Her son was sent to 
 
 Harvard University for his education, and while he was about 
 
 I •' commencing the study of the law, he was taken sick of a fever, 
 
 ^ • which, in a few days, terminated his existence. This was to his 
 
 mother a severe dispensation of Providence, for the youth was 
 
 ^ amiable, virtuous, well talented, and mature and grave beyond 
 
 C*\ his years. This calamity was deep and lasting. There is a tie 
 
 between a mother and a son, which is one of the noblest and 
 
 ^. " purest in nature ; it reaches every fold of the mind, and lives in 
 
 i| j every pulsation of the heart ; it is generally kept more perfect 
 
 f ^ than other bonds of unity ; natural affection, satisfaction, pride 
 
 ^' and fond anticipation, guarding it on on side, and retrospection, 
 
 ^' gratitude and love, on the other. But deep and incurable as 
 
 this misfortune was, it did not disturb the serenity of her soul, 
 
 nor interrupt the tenor of her way. This is fortitude, such as 
 
 depends not on a momentary excitement of energy or pride, but 
 
 that which springs from fixed principles, and a firm belief that 
 
 >, the hand of God is in the chastenings of his children. 
 
 Some years since, when the Boston Female Asylum was pro- 
 posed to the ladies of that city, Mrs. Davis saw at once the utility 
 as well as the benevolence of this plan. At the present day, 
 this might be supposed as a matter of course to one who had 
 sufiicient means to indulge a charitable disposition ; but it was 
 not so then ; there were a great many prejudices against such 
 an institution. The political economists thought that the way 
 to prevent misery was never to relieve the distressed ; and talked 
 a world of nonsense about the table of nature's bounty being" 
 full, and that there were no places left; that suffering was the 
 only means of preventing pauperism. But the intelligent dames 
 of an enlightened and charitable community, shrinking from 
 such cold-blooded and unrig^hteous doctrine, and reasoning from 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 177 
 
 safer and better principles, those nearer the heart, set about esta- 
 blishing the institution, and have proved by its success the wis- 
 dom of the plan. Not only the matrons of that charitable city 
 were engaged in the work, but the sympathies of the young and 
 lovely were enlisted ; and its interests are now so closely con- 
 nected with the feelings of every female heart, that its perma- 
 nency is certain. Whatever is cherished from such a source, 
 must flourish in perennial beauty. Mrs. Davis spared no pains 
 to facilitate the undertaking; and when Mrs. Perkins, the 
 respected and venerable mother of the eminent merchants of 
 that name in Boston, resigned the office of treasurer of this 
 institution, a highly responsible situation, Mrs. Davis was chosen 
 to supply the vacancy, in which office she continued until her 
 death. Her last testament bore substantial proofs how near the 
 asylum was to her heart. This institution is managed solely 
 by ladies, and it may be confidently asked, without fear of the 
 response, what institution in our comitry has been better con- 
 ducted than this ? 
 
 In the year 1811, Mrs. Davis gave her daughter in marriage 
 to Dr. George C. Shattuck, a young gentleman of promise in 
 his profession. This daughter was then Mrs. Davis's only 
 child ; but in this connexion she still pursued her safe course 
 of judicious calculation. She had seen many young men in 
 professional life, injured by a too liberal feeling of connexions 
 in the commencement of their career. She thought and reason- 
 ed correctly, that in a country like ours, in which every thing 
 depends on personal exertions, that industry and prudence were 
 the best patrons of talents. From these motives she permitted 
 her son in law to make his own way in the world, and felt an 
 honest pride in seeing him rise in his profession by his own 
 merits, to competency and distinction. His success has justified 
 her policy. Perhaps this course would not do in every case. 
 It was her course, and has been successful. 
 
 Mrs. Davis died on the twenty-eight of January, 1 825, in the 
 seventy-fifth year of her age. She left this world satisfied with 
 Its imperfect enjoyments, and in full Christian hopes of another 
 and a better beyond the grave. 
 
178 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Mary Dwight, the mother of president Timothy Dwight, 
 of Yale College ; was the daughter of the far-famed scholar, 
 and metaphysician, Jonathan Edwards ; whose works have 
 been read, studied, circulated, and admired in both hemispheres. 
 She was born in 1731, while her father was a clergyman at 
 Northampton. The daughters of this profound scholar had 
 every advantage of education, that could be obtained at that 
 time. They were early taught to think, and this gave them 
 mental vigor, if they had not opportunities of obtaining so many 
 accomplishments as the daughters of distinguished persons in 
 our day possess. A clergyman's house in the country, was a 
 caravansary for all traveling ministers, and such society was 
 of great importance to the daughters of a family. The traveler, 
 in order to be social and agreeable, brushes himself up for con- 
 versation on such visits, and the very pains taken by the hostess 
 and her daughters to entertain their friends, makes them active 
 and social. 
 
 Mrs. Dwight was married at eighteen years of age, to Timo- 
 thy Dwight, Esq., a man of classical education, and great 
 enterprise. Mrs. Dwight's peculiar talent for directing the 
 infant mind, was fully developed in the education of her chil- 
 dren. Her oldest son, arose from the cradle a prodigy. She 
 had begun his instruction as soon as he could speak. She 
 anticipated, in a measure, the system of Pestalozzi, in making 
 letters for her children to read, in the sand which was then 
 used as an ornament for the floor, instead of a carpet. In his 
 fourth year, her eldest son could read in the bible, with accu- 
 racy and fluency. At six years old, he began his Latin gram- 
 mar, and would have been prepared for college when only 
 eight, if the school had not been broken up, or if his friends had 
 not been apprehensive of injury to his health and growth, from 
 incessant study at so tender an age. She directed his mind to 
 moral dignity and religious purity, as well as to mental attain- 
 ments, and he was as pious as precocious. Mrs. Dwight had 
 several children, and all had the same nursery discipline ; each 
 one was directed to such a course as was suited to his capacity. 
 Mrs. Dwight lost her husband in 1777, and although her farm 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 179 
 
 was a large one, yet such was the pressure of the times, during 
 the long years of the revolutionary war, that she had to struggle 
 hard to hring up her family, but this was effected by the strictest 
 economy ; not an acre of the farm was sold. She lived to a 
 good old age, respected by all classes in the community, and 
 beloved by her children, who were grateful to her for the 
 education she had given them. 
 
 Hannah Duston. This woman should be ranked among 
 the heroines of antiquity. She was the wife of Thomas Duston, 
 of Haverhill in Massachusetts; born in the year 1659, and 
 married 1677. She had, altogether, thirteen children. When the 
 Indians, who dwelt at the sources of the Merrimac River, and in 
 the region round about, after a great freshet on the fifteenth of 
 March, 1697, came down the river and attacked Haverhill, she 
 was confined to her bed with an infant only a week old. Her 
 husband catching the alarm from the field fled to the house, and 
 consulted his wife on the course he should pursue. She calmly 
 told him to leave her and her infant to their fate, and to make 
 his escape, if possible, with her other children. He sent seven 
 of his children on a path through the woods, on the way to the 
 garrison, and mounting his horse he followed in the rear ; with 
 his musket he kept the pursuing Indians at bay, until he found 
 his charge in a place of safety at the garrison. Before Mr. 
 Duston reached the garrison, the Indians returned and cap- 
 tured his sick wife and Mary Neif, her nurse. They with 
 other captives took up their march, by order of the savages, for 
 the north. After they had traveled a few miles, the Indians 
 found the infant troublesome, and they took the child from the 
 nurse and dashed its brains out against a tree. Mrs. Duston 
 was feeble and wretched, but this outrage nerved her soul for 
 every enterprise. After this horrid outrage, she wept no more ; 
 the agony of nature drank the tear-drop ere it fell. She looked 
 to heaven with a silent prayer for succor and vengeance, and 
 followed the infernal group without a word of complaint. At 
 this instant, the high resolve was formed in her mind, and 
 swelled every pulse of her heart. They traveled on some dis- 
 
180 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 tance : as she thought, one hundred and fifty miles, but perhaps, 
 from the course they took, about seventy-five. The river had 
 probably been broken up but a short time, and the canoes of the 
 Indians were above the upper falls, on the Merrimack, when 
 they commenced their journey to attack Haverhill. Above these 
 falls, on an island in this river, the Indians had a wigwam, and 
 in getting their canoes in order, and by rowing ten miles up the 
 stream, became much fatigued. When they reached the place 
 of rest, they slept soundly. Mrs. Duston did not sleep. The 
 nurse, and an English boy, a prisoner, were apprised of her 
 design ; but were not of much use to her in the execution of it. 
 In the stillness of the night she arose and went out of the wig- 
 wam to test the soundness and security of savage sleep. They 
 moved not ; they were to sleep until the last day. She returned, 
 took one of their hatchets and dispatched ten of them in a mo- 
 ment, each with a single blow. An Indian woman, who was 
 rising when she struck her, fled with her probable death-wound ; 
 and an Indian boy was designedly spared ; for the avenger of 
 blood was a woman and a mother, and could not deal a death- 
 bloAV upon a helpless child. She surveyed the carnage ground 
 by the light of the fire, which she stirred up after the deed was 
 done ; and catching a few handfuls of roasted corn, she com- 
 menced her journey ; but on reflecting a moment, she thought 
 the people of Haverhill would consider her tale as the ravings 
 of madness, when she should get home, if ever that time might 
 come; she therefore returned, and scalped the slain; then put 
 her nurse and English boy into the canoe, and with herself they 
 floated down to the falls, when she landed, and took to the woods, 
 keeping the river in sight, which she knew must direct her on 
 her way home. After sufl^ering incredible hardships by hunger, 
 cold, and fatigue, she reached home, to the surprise and joy of 
 her husband, children and friends. The general court of Mas- 
 sachusetts examined her story, and being satisfied of the truth 
 of it, took her trophies, the scalps, and gave her fifty pounds. 
 The people of Boston made her many presents. All classes 
 were anxious to see the heroine ; and they found her as modest 
 as brave. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 181 
 
 ANNE Dacier, was wife of Andrew Dacier, and daughter 
 of Tanguy Le Fevre, professor of Greek, at Samur in France, 
 and was born in that city about the end of the year 1651. She 
 was about eleven years old, when her father resolved to give 
 her a learned education; and the occasion of his taking such a 
 resolution, was this : while he was teaching one of his sons the 
 rudiments of grammar, in the same room where Mademoiselle 
 Le Fevre was employed with her needle, she, as a person wholly 
 unconcerned, occasionally supplied her brother with answers to 
 questions which puzzled him. Her father thus discovering her 
 talents, from thence gave her a regular course of instruction, 
 and brought her up a scholar, In 1672, her father died, and 
 the year following, she went to Paris, whither her fame had 
 already preceded her. She was then preparing an edition of 
 " Callimachus," which she published in 1674. Having shown 
 some sheets of it to Mr. Huet, preceptor to the dauphin, and to 
 several other men of learning at the court, the work was so 
 highly admired, that the duke of Montausier made a proposal 
 to her of publishing several Latin authors, for the use of the 
 dauphin, which, though she rejected at first, she at last under- 
 took, and published an edition of " Florus." 
 
 Her reputation being now spread all over Europe, Christina, 
 queen of Sweden, ordered her ambassador at the court of 
 France, to make her a compliment in her name, upon which 
 Mademoiselle Le Fevre, sent the queen a Latin letter, with her 
 edition of " Florus," to which her majesty wrote an obliging an- 
 swer, and not long after sent her another letter, persuading her 
 to abandon the protestant religion, and making her considerable 
 offers to settle at her court. This, however, she declined, and 
 proceeded in the task she had undertaken, of preparing authors 
 for the use of the dauphin, in which she proceeded with so great 
 activity and perseverance, that, previous to the end of the year 
 1684, she had published no less than twelve volumes, several 
 of which have been repeatedly printed in England, as well as in 
 France. 
 
 But, in the midst of all these various publications,"she, in the 
 
 year 1683, found time to marry M. Dacier, with whom she had 
 
 16 
 
182 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 been brought up in her father's house, from her earliest years. 
 Soon after this, she declared to her friends, the duke of Mon- 
 tausier, and the bishop of Meaux, a design of reconciling herself 
 to the church of Rome ; but, as M. Dacier was not yet con- 
 vinced of the propriety of such a change, they thought proper to 
 retire to Castres in 1684, in order to examine the points of 
 controversy between the protestants and the Roman catholics. 
 They, at last, determined in favor of the latter, and made their 
 public abjurations accordingly, in 1685, after which the king 
 bestowed considerable marks of his favor, both upon the hus- 
 band and wife. She still continued to favor the world with 
 numerous publications, the most remarkable of which, is " The 
 Iliad of Homer, translated into French, with notes, in 3 vols. 
 12mo. 1711 ;" she also published a translation of the " Odyssey," 
 executed in the same manner, in 1716; and this, so far as we 
 can find, was the last thing she published. She had two 
 daughters and a son, to whose education she paid the greatest 
 attention; but the son died in the year 1694, and one of her 
 daughters became a nun ; the other, who is said to have united 
 in her, all the virtues and accomplishments of her sex, died at 
 eighteen years of age. Her mother has immortalized her me- 
 mory in the preface to her translation of the Iliad. Madame 
 Dacier was in a very infirm state of health the two last years of 
 her life ; and died after a very painful sickness, August 27th, 
 1720, aged sixty -nine. 
 
 Madame Dacier Avas a lady of great virtue as well as learn- 
 ing, and remarkable for firmness, generosity, equality of temper 
 and piety. Like most persons possessed of superior talents, she 
 was, likewise, a woman of remarkable modesty, so that she 
 could seldom be prevailed on to speak upon subjects of literature. 
 The character of such an one puts to silence a thousand tongues 
 of those slanderers of literary women, who represent those pro- 
 minent for talents and acquirements as destitute of the ordinary 
 feelings of mothers, and negligent of every domestic duty. Such 
 libels are readily received and repeated, when not believed, by 
 those who are anxious to hide their own ignorance in their 
 ravings against the enlightened. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 183 
 
 Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. This beautiful and 
 accomplished lady, of whom, on her demise, the prince of Wales 
 is said to have exclaimed, " then have we lost the most amiable 
 and best bred woman in England," was at once a Cavendish 
 and a Spencer ; consequently both descended from, and united 
 to, two of the greatest whig families in England. Her grace, 
 on the one hand, was great-grand-daughter of the famous duke 
 of Marlborough, who vindicated England against monarchical 
 France, in the celebrated battles of Ramilies and Blenheim ; 
 and on the other, the wife and mother of two lineal descendants 
 of that highly meritorious nobleman, William, the fourth earl of 
 Devonshire, who was principally instrumental in bringing about 
 the revolution of 1688. 
 
 Georgiana, duchess of Devonshire, was the eldest daughter 
 of the late John, Earl Spencer, by Georgiana Caroline, daughter 
 of John Carteret, Earl Granville. She was born on the ninth of 
 June, 1757, and educated under the immediate care of her ven- 
 erable mother, the then countess dowager Spencer, • From her 
 cradle she displayed the most promising symptoms of worth, 
 and loveliness ; and, while yet in the bud, anticipated the beauty 
 and fragrance of the future rose. Even before the period of her 
 presentation at court, the fame of lady Georgiana' s charms had 
 been universally spread; and all were equally inquisitive to 
 learn for whom fate had destined so lovely, so fascinating a 
 partner. This happy lot was in store for the young duke of 
 Devonshire, to whom lady Georgiana was united on the sixth of 
 June, 1774, three days before she had completed her seventeenth 
 year. The world of fashion was now destined to undergo a 
 complete revolution. At the first drawing-room to which the 
 young duchess repaired after her marriage, she was accompa- 
 nied by all the distinguished females of the two great families 
 whence she was descended, and perhaps a more brilliant day 
 was never witnessed at St. James's. 
 
 " The bloom of opening flowers, unsullied beauty, 
 
 Softness and sweetest innocence she wore, 
 
 And looked like nature in the world's first spring," 
 
184 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 These beautiful lines of Rowe may perhaps be thought but 
 ill-applied to a modern woman of fashion, in a court dress, and 
 bending beneath a load of jewellery ; yet there Avas such a sweet 
 simplicity, such a native grace, such an almost angelic loveliness 
 in her appearance, as fully to justify their quotation. The 
 duchess of Devonshire was, on that day, "the observed of all 
 observers." One little anecdote, connected with this day of splen- 
 dor, deserves to be mentioned, as forming a contrast to the taste 
 of the present times : " the bride is said to have worn a pair of 
 diamond buckles, of very large dimensions, which, either from 
 their weight or pressure, produced a lameness, so that the em- 
 blazoned fair one was obliged to remain at home for several days 
 after. 
 
 The duchess now became the leader of female fashions ; the 
 apron, the gown, the cap, were all Devonshire, being closely 
 copied from the clothes which were worn, or supposed to be 
 worn, by her. In the present day, our belles of ton have their 
 Nelson caps, and their Trafalgar pelices ; and, when the contest 
 with America gave a military direction to public affairs, when 
 men of the first rank and fortune in the kingdom were proud to 
 emulate the life and habits of a soldier, the duchess of Devon- 
 shire was seen at Tiptree and Warley camps, dressed out in the 
 regimentals of the Derby militia, of which her husband, the 
 duke, was colonel. From that period, all the women both young 
 and old, from the love-sick miss, just let loose from boarding 
 school, to the great-grand-mamma of eighty, were seized with a 
 kind of military furor, and appeared, even during the dog-days, 
 decked out in scarlet broad-cloth. At the time here alluded to, 
 the feminine attire and mode of dress were far different from 
 those which now prevail. Instead of a transparent muslin dress, 
 and a single thin calico petticoat, the bell-hoop, and the apparatus 
 of whalebone, which had continued from the age of the Stuarts 
 to that of George III., with three or four comfortable under gar- 
 ments of flannel, were in vogue ; while the waist, " small by 
 degrees, and beautifully less," was contracted by art, so as to 
 assume a shape, leaving scarcely sufficient room for the ordinary 
 functions of the body. Some ladies contented themselves with 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 185 
 
 a waist the size of a pumpkin, and others reduced it to that of a 
 melon, while the true Devonshire standard of taste and beauty- 
 is said to have been exactly " an orange and a half T Within 
 these few years the ladies have contrived to have " no waist at 
 all ;" but to produce such a wonderful effect, they resorted to more 
 simple means that that of straight-lacing. Soon after the duchess 
 of Devonshire's reign commenced, however, fashion began to 
 make her rapid approaches towards simplicity ; and, although 
 nothing is so changeable as a lady's head-dress, yet since that 
 period, the exuberances of ornament have been gradually cur- 
 tailed, the masses of flour, of bear's grease, and of mutton fat, 
 have been wholly disused, and our modern tetes have been made 
 to affect all the simplicity of the ancient statues. 
 
 At the general election, in 1780, the duchess of Devonshire 
 very strenuously exerted herself in favor of Mr. Fox, afterwards 
 secretary of state. The story of the butcher selling his vote for 
 a kiss from the lovely canvasser, is well known. Among a variety 
 of other jeux d^esprits which appeared on this occasion, was the 
 following complimentary epigram : — 
 
 "Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair 
 In Fox's favor takes a zealous part: 
 
 But oh ! where'er the pilferer comes — beware ! 
 She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart," 
 
 A period of more than nine years had elapsed, after the nup- 
 tials of the duke and duchess of Devonshire, before the birth 
 of their first child, lady Georgiana Cavendish, the afterwards 
 viscountess Morpeth ; after an interval of four years more, lady 
 Elizabeth Henrietta was born; and, after another interval of four 
 years, May 21st. 1790, her grace was safely delivered of a son 
 and heir, William George Cavendish, marquis of Hartington, 
 who was born at Autouil, near Paris. 
 
 A very amiable trait in the maternal character of the late 
 duchess, is supposed to have been alluded to in the following 
 lines, the composition of one of the most elegant poets of the 
 present age : — 
 
 16* 
 
186 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " So when the mother, bending o'er his charms, 
 Clasps her fair nursUng in delighted arms, 
 Throws the thin kerchief from her neck of snow, 
 And half unveils the pearly orbs below ; 
 With sparkling eye the blameless plunderer owns 
 Her soft embraces and endearing tones, 
 Seeks the salubrious fount with opening lips, 
 Spreads his inquiring hands, and smiles, and sips. 
 
 " Connubial fair ! whom no fond transport warms 
 To lull your infant in maternal arms ; 
 Who, blest in vain with tumid bosoms, hear 
 His tender wadings with unfeeling ear ; 
 The soothing kiss and milky rill deny 
 To the sweet pouting lip and glistening eye ! 
 
 " Ah ! what avails the cradle's damask'd roof, 
 The eider bolster, the embroidered woof! — 
 Oft hears the gilded couch unpitied plains. 
 And many a tear the tassel'd cushion stains! 
 No voice so sweet attunes his cares to rest. 
 So soft no pillow as his mother's breast." 
 
 The duchess who had twice visited Paris, was now for some 
 time confined by her maternal duties, to Picadilly, Chiswick, 
 and Chats worth. During the summer of 1792, however, indu- 
 ced to undertake the journey by the declining health of two 
 near relations, her mother lady Spencer, and her sister iadj 
 Duncannon, countess of Besborough, she once more visited 
 the continent. Lady Elizabeth Foster was also of the party. 
 Having passed through France, and entered the Pays de Vaud, 
 they reached Lausanne in the month of August, and resided for 
 some time at Le Petit Ouchy, an elegant little retreat in that 
 neighborhood. While there, the celebrated historian Gibbon 
 was almost daily of their parties ; and, occasionally, that admired 
 traveler had also the honor of entertaining the illustrious tra- 
 velers. On his revisiting London in the next autumn, he re- 
 newed his acquaintance in Piccadilly, where, in his own words, 
 he found " the fine ladies making flannel waistcoats." 
 
 Before our fair travellers quitted the retreat of Le Petit 
 Ouchy, the season was considerably advanced ; and, as Mount 
 Cenis had become impassable, they were obliged to penetrate 
 into Italy by a long circuitous route, through the Tyrol. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 187 
 
 After passing several months in the genial climate of Italy, 
 the duchess, having most amiably performed the duties of a 
 daughter and sister, deemed it proper to fulfil those of a mother 
 also. Her grace accordingly left the ladies, Spencer, and Bes- 
 borough, who intended to pass the winter in Naples, at the baths 
 of Lucca ; and, bidding farewell to the fertile plains of Lom- 
 bardy, prepared to scale the St. Gothard in her return to Swit- 
 zerland. Having embarked on the Lago Maggiore, at the little 
 town of Sesto, where the confluence of the river Tessino with 
 the lake takes place, this accomplished woman navigated its 
 glassy surface, and beheld its shores interspersed with villages 
 and a rich scenery, which served to amuse the eye until it finally 
 reposed on the distant Alps. Her grace landed at Magadino, 
 one of the three Cisalpine Balliages belonging to Switzerland, 
 and, with her suite, ascended the tremendous St. Gothard by a 
 road which nearly follows the course of the Tessino. At the 
 top of the mountain they were entertained by the Capuchin 
 monks, after which they descended into the valley of Ursera, 
 crossing the Devil's Bridge, below which they beheld the Reuss, 
 swelled by this time to a torrent. On re-entering Switzerland, 
 the spires of Altorf recalled the memory of that celebrated and 
 bloodless revolution, which gave liberty to a nation ; while the 
 chapel of William Tell excited, in the patriotic bosom of her 
 grace, the most delightful sensations. These sensations are ad- 
 mirably depicted, in the following beautiful stanzas, extracted 
 from her celebrated poem, entitled " The passage of the Moun- 
 tain of St. Gothard." After describing the scenes already past, 
 the fair poet proceeds : — 
 
 " But though no more amidst those scenes I roam, 
 My fancy long its image shall retain — 
 
 The flock returning to its welcome home — 
 And the wild carol of the cow-herd's strain. 
 
 "Lucerna's lake its glassy surface shows, 
 Whilst nature's varied beauties deck its side : 
 
 Here rocks and woods its narrow waves enclose 
 And there its spreading bosom opens wide. 
 
188 FE3IALE BIOGRAPHY, 
 
 " And hail the chapel I hail the platform wild ! 
 
 Where Tell directed the avenging dart ; 
 With well-strung arm, at first preserved his child, 
 
 Then winged the arrow to the tyrant's heart. 
 
 "Across the lake, and deep embower'd in wood, 
 
 Behold another hallow'd chapel stands, 
 Where three Swiss heroes lawless force withstood. 
 
 And stamp'd the freedom of their native land* 
 
 " Their liberty requir'd no rites uncouth. 
 No blood demanded, and no slaves enchain'd ; 
 
 Her rule was gentle, and her voice was truth, 
 By social order formed, by law restrain'd, 
 
 " We quit the lake— and cultivation's toil. 
 With nature's charms combin'd, adorn the way; 
 
 And well-earn'd wealth improves the ready soil, 
 And simple manners still maintain their sway. 
 
 *' Farewell Helvetia — from whose lofty breast 
 Proud Alps arise, and copious rivers flow ; * 
 
 Where, source of streams, eternal glaciers rest, 
 And peaceful science gilds the plains below. 
 
 " Oft on thy rocks the wond'ring eye shall gaze, 
 
 Thy vallies oft the raptur'd bosom seek — 
 There, nature's hand her boldest work displays 
 
 Here, bliss domestic beams on every cheek. 
 
 " Hope of my life ! dear children of my heart ! 
 
 That anxious heart, to each fond feehng true. 
 To you still pants, each pleasure to impart, 
 
 And more — O transport ! — reach its home and you." 
 
 This exquisite poem has been translated into French, by the 
 celebrated Abbe de Lille, the best versifier who ever wrote in 
 that language. 
 
 The duchess was long a pattern of conjugal and maternal 
 virtue ; and, during the late war, she endeared herself to the 
 country, by the anxious interest which she took in the health of 
 our protecting armies. We have already mentioned, that the 
 celebrated Gibbon found her in the humble but meritorious em- 
 ployment of making flannel waistcoats for the soldiers. In this 
 employment she long persevered ; and, by her example, contri- 
 buted much to the comfort of our military heroes. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 189 
 
 Of late years, her grace did not appear so much in the gay- 
 world as formerly ; yet she sometimes enlivened the higher 
 circles with her presence, and, in 1801, when the Pic Nic society 
 was formed, she stood forth at the head of that institution. 
 
 In the late war, the duchess had the honor of being reckoned 
 among the British lady patronesses of the volunteers. In the 
 month of October, 1803, she presented the colors to the St. 
 Mary-le-bonne corps, commanded by her relation. Lord Dun- 
 cannon. Dressed, en militaire, in a purple velvet bonnet, with a 
 gold star button, and a plume of ostrich feathers, she went in 
 procession, accompanied by a suite of noble relatives, and sur- 
 rounded by a guard of honor to Lord's Cricket Ground, Mary- 
 le-bonne, where the ceremony Avas performed. 
 
 Her grace, to whom a lengthened number of days was denied, 
 departed this life on the morning of Sunday, March the 30th, 
 1806, in the forty-ninth year of her age. Her disorder, which 
 terminated so fatally, is understood to have been an abscess of 
 the liver, the first attack of which was perceived about three 
 months before her death, while she sat at the table of the mar- 
 quis of Stafford. From that period, its feverish progress so in- 
 creased, as eventually to resist all the efforts of the first medical 
 skill. Her grace's remains were taken, in funeral procession, 
 from Picadilly, on the Sunday after her death; and, on the 
 Wednesday following, they were interred, with great pomp and 
 solemnity, in the family vault, in St. Stephen's church, Derby. 
 The hearse was met three miles from Derby, by the whole of 
 the country nobility, and the duke's tenantry residing there, who 
 conducted the remains to the place of interment. 
 
 The duchess of Devonshire possessed a highly cultivated 
 taste for poetry and the fine arts ; was a liberal encourager of 
 them in others ; and, above all, she had the exalted merit, of 
 never failing to advocate and relieve the cause of misfortune. 
 
 " Her kindly melting heart, 
 To every want and every woe, 
 To guilt itself, when in distress, 
 The balm of pity would impart, 
 And all relief that bounty could bestow ! 
 E'en for the kid or lamb, that poured its life 
 
190 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Beneath the bloody knife. 
 
 Her gentle tears would fall ; 
 
 Tears, from sweet virtue's source, benevolent to all !" 
 
 In the continuing words of lord Lyttleton, she was — 
 
 " Not only good and kind, 
 But strong and elevated was her mind ; 
 
 A spirit that with noble pride 
 
 Could look superior down 
 
 On fortune's smile or frown ; 
 That could, without regret or pain, 
 To virtue's lowest duty sacrifice 
 Or interest or ambition's highest prize; 
 That, injured or offended, never tried 
 Its dignity, by vengeance, to maintain, 
 But by magnanimous disdain. 
 A wit that, temperately bright, 
 With inoffensive light 
 All pleasing shone; nor ever past 
 The decent bounds that wisdom's sober hand, 
 And sweet benevolence's mild command, 
 And bashful modesty, before it cast. 
 A prudence undeceiving, undeceiv'd. 
 That nor too little nor too much believ'd ; 
 That scorn' d unjust suspicion's coward fear, 
 And, without weakness, knew to be sincere. 
 Such Lucy was, when, in her fairest days, 
 Amidst th' acclaim of universal praise, 
 In life's and glory's freshest bloom, 
 Death came remorseless on, and sunk her to the tomb." 
 
 Martha Derby, was the daughter of Doctor Coiiin, of 
 Portland, in the state of Maine, and was born about 1783. She 
 received a good education at the schools in her own native 
 town, and probably closed it with a metropolitan finish. At the 
 age of .eaving school, she was considered the beauty of New 
 England. There was style without hauteur in her manners, 
 and the features of her face were, to almost every one, faultless. 
 The sweetness of her disposition had kept her female admirers 
 from being envious of her charms, and she was so prudent in 
 lavishing her smiles, that no one could draw an inference of 
 partiality. At this age she was addressed by Mr. Richard 
 Derby, a young gentleman of good personal appearance'" and 
 splendid fortune, with the air and manners of a man of fashion, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 191 
 
 and on whose morals there was no stain ; and she was led to 
 the altar by him, with the consent of her friends. With him 
 she took the tour of Europe, and was in all places admired for 
 her elegance, grace, and beauty. She received marks of atten- 
 tion in England, that no American woman before her ever did. 
 In France, when Napoleon Bonaparte was rising into the gaze 
 of the world, he saw and admired Mrs. Derby. In the tour of 
 the continent, she was every where received with extraordinary 
 honors, and even in the " eternal city," they compared her form 
 and face to the productions of the chisels of ancient masters. 
 Painters and sculptors flocked to get her semblance or bust, 
 but she would not consent to sit for the gaze of any artist, how- 
 ever eminent. Half the European world then, for this was 
 more than thirty years smce, expected to see an aboriginal in 
 an American woman, and were astonished Avhen they saw as 
 much grace and beauty, as they had ever imagined combined 
 in one person. Mrs. Derby returned to her native land, 
 improved in person, mind, and manners, and with no small 
 knowledge of the true philosophy of dress. She was still a favo- 
 rite at home, and if she did not aspire to give a tone to fashion, 
 she most certainly influenced the public taste more than any 
 other woman. She had no children, and Mr. and Mrs. Derby 
 spent a season at the south or north, or in Europe, as pleased 
 their taste, or inclination. She was truly an accomplished 
 woman, but every accomplishment she possessed was so well 
 commingled with others, as to never sufler any of them to appear 
 prominent. Foreigners, if there was any difference among her 
 admirers, were more charmed Avith Mrs. Derby than her own 
 countrymen. They thought her the finest woman they had 
 ever seen on this side the water ; and if they were never led 
 into a greater error than in this case, they might have been 
 more readily pardoned than they now can be. for other opin- 
 ions which they have as freely promulgated, of this country 
 and the people. A writer in the Boston Monthly Magazine, 
 in 1826, in a playful article, entitled "Figures in Dominos," 
 alludes in the following manner to Mrs. Derby, while she yet 
 had health and beauty. She was then, perhaps it might be 
 
192 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 said, in the wane of her beauty ; bordering on forty, a period of 
 life when time will not be cheated of those marks, which he 
 sets on all things, and on none with more distinctness and 
 determination, than on the human face divine, the more beau- 
 tiful the greater his ravages. This writer, whose only object 
 was to shadow forth the peculiarities of some of the principal 
 personages in Boston, imagines the poet Goethe in a saloon of 
 his patron, the emperor of Germany, giving an account to an 
 English friend, of the characters passing in masquerade before 
 them. General Roxburghen is in conversation with lady Ophe- 
 lia Guildenstern, (Mrs. Derby,) the poet describes her with as 
 much accuracy as enthusiasm. " She was celebrated as the 
 first belle of our country twenty years ago. I then wrote son- 
 nets ' to the heaven of her eyes ;' and those eyes are as bright 
 and beautiful now as then. She was thrown a child into the 
 whirl of fashionable life, but she was always so circumspect, 
 discriminating, and modest, that the enchantments of the Circean 
 cup, so often swallowed to the dregs by the fashionable world, 
 never poisoned her mind. If she ever put it to her lips, the 
 virtues of her heart and the strength of her understanding were 
 the antidote to the bane. After passing through half the splen- 
 did circles of the globe, on this continent and in the new world, 
 and the admiration of all, she is still as gentle, modest, bland, and 
 conciliatory as when she made one of the laughing loves of the 
 nursery. Year after year I have expected to see marks of time 
 upon her lovely face, remembering how fugitive all poets have 
 made the beauty of the objects of their admiration. Anacreon 
 calls these beauties ' the rose leaves of spring blown away on 
 the summer gale ;' and one of your English poets has sung — 
 
 ' Flowers anew returning seasons bring, 
 ' But faded beauty has no second spring.' 
 
 Still, however, she is yet as lovely as ever ; the style of her 
 beauty is changed, but the effect is not destroyed. The sylph- 
 like grace of that period of life, when she was culling the violet 
 and chasing the golden- winged insect from one bed of flowers 
 to another, is gone, but that rich maturity of charms, when all 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 193 
 
 that is desirable in person and dignified in thought and man- 
 ners, are in full perfection. These are the mature charms, 
 which, on the banks of the Nile, won the mighty Roman's 
 heart, and made him throw away the world for love. Had I 
 been Paris, and set in judgment on Ida, Juno should have had 
 the apple." 
 
 Mrs. Derby was for several years a valitudinarian, but gave up 
 society only a few months before her death. One bred among the 
 gaities of life, leaves them with great reluctance, but she moved 
 in the crowd that she might not alarm her friends in regard to 
 her health ; she felt that with her " the silver cords of life would 
 soon be loosed, and the golden bowl be broken," yet she wish- 
 ed not to disturb the enjoyment of others. Society had been her 
 element, and had become natural to her, yet when she felt the 
 sands of life ebbing, she breathed no sigh that she was called 
 to depart so soon, but thankful for the share she had had of life, 
 was ready to relinquish it, when Heaven should so decree. 
 
 Dorcas. Seven of the most celebrated cities of antiquity, 
 Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, and Athens, 
 are said to have disputed the glory of having given birth to 
 Homer ; and it must be admitted that places and families acquire 
 an importance from their connexion with names which appear 
 conspicuous on the page of history, and have been praised by 
 the united voices of successive generations. We cannot hear, 
 without an instinctive glow, of the cities of Rome, Athens, Sparta, 
 Syracuse, and others which respectively produced a Cassar, a 
 Demosthenes, a Lycurgus, and an Archimedes ; of the islands 
 of Samos and -^gina, whence emanated the resplendent genius 
 of a Pythagoras and a Plato ; of the villages of Alopece and An- 
 des, immortalized as having produced a Socrates and a Virgil. 
 
 But let not the enchanting annals of Roman literature or 
 
 Grecian wisdom detach our minds from the nobler records of 
 
 inspiration, or diminish the conviction which religion must ever 
 
 inspire, that the birthplace of benevolence and piety is more 
 
 illustrious than the birthplace of genius and philosophy. On 
 
 this principle we look with admiration upon the town of Joppa, 
 
 17 
 
194 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 which, if it cannot boast a prodigy of valor, talent, or learning, 
 is nevertheless conspicuous as the residence of one '* of whom 
 the world was not worthy." She was not, indeed, rich in 
 wealth, but in good works. She was not a conqueror of nations 
 or a distributor of crowns, but a giver of alms. She had no 
 name on earth beyond the limits of a small Christian church, 
 but her record was on high, and her memorial has not perished 
 with her. 
 
 Joppa was the nearest seaport to Jerusalem on the Mediterra- 
 nean. It was situated in the tribe of Dan, in a fine plain, and 
 has acquired the modern name of Jaffa. This place is frequent- 
 ly mentioned in scripture. The materials for the construction 
 of Solomon's temple were sent thither in floats, by Hiram the 
 king of Tyre, whence they were easily conveyed by land to 
 Jerusalem. Jonah, in his flight from the presence of the Lord, 
 embarked at this port, and gave occasion to the mjrthological 
 fable of Andromeda. Here the apostle Peter enjoyed that 
 remarkable vision in which he saw heaven opened, and a great 
 sheet descending to the earth, which seemed to contain every 
 variety of beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air ; inti- 
 mating to him the abolition of the Mosaic law, and the removal 
 of those distinctions which had so long separated the Jews and 
 the Gentiles. It is probable Philip preached the gospel here in 
 his progress through various cities to Cesarea ; but the history 
 of Dorcas, or, as she was originally called in the Syriac dialect, 
 Tabitha, has given it peculiar prominence in the sacred page. 
 
 The memorials of this excellent woman is short, but replete 
 with instruction. Her character is sketched at a stroke, and by 
 the introduction of an incident as full of significance and inter- 
 est as can well be imagined. Dropping those minute details 
 and accidental circumstances which are not necessary to cha- 
 racter, and which the New Testament so seldom mentions, the 
 most instructive part of her story is preserved and set in the 
 most brilliant point of light. 
 
 She is simply announced in the first place, as " a certain dis- 
 ciple," or one that embraced the faith of Christ, and professed it 
 by baptism and a public union with his church. Whatever might 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 195 
 
 be her situation in other respects, was of little consequence ; this 
 was her best, her most substanial distinction. It invested her 
 with a real glory, which however overlooked by those who are 
 chiefly attracted by exterior splendor, surpassed every vain and 
 glittering honor of the world. It raised her to the dignity of a 
 name in the volume of inspiration, and the unfading distinction 
 of a place in the annals of eternity. 
 
 How poor and perishable is human fame ; and yet with what 
 eagerness it is universally sought! What is it but a bubble, 
 excited by some accidental cause, to sparkle for a moment on the 
 stream of passing ages, and then to disappear forever ! And yet 
 the love of fame has been called, and perhaps with propriety, the 
 ruling passion ; for so much does it blend itself with human mo- 
 tives, that there are comparatively few of our actions, at least 
 such as are visible to the public eye, which may not be traced 
 to this feeling, or which do not receive a tone from its influence. 
 
 The inspired testimony is as follows : " This woman was full 
 of good works and alms-deeds, which she did." Amongst other 
 acts of beneficence, she was accustomed to make "coats and 
 garments" for "the widows." Her own circumstances are not 
 specified. If she were poor^ as the mass of Christian converts 
 in the apostolic times appears to have been, her readiness in fur- 
 nishing these was admirable indeed. As Paul testified of the 
 Macedonian believers, she contributed to the utmost, yea, and 
 beyond her power : nor are these solitary instances of persons 
 willingly impoverishing themselves in obedience to the fine im- 
 pulse of a pious sympathy. While others have calculated 
 they have acted, incapable of a cold arithmetic and a meeisured 
 benevolence. If Dorcas were rich, she is perhaps entitled to a 
 still higher commendation. So many are the obstructions which 
 " great possessions" cast in the way of charity, so many tempta- 
 tions to a lavish expenditure, beset the opulent, and to support 
 this, on the other hand, to a parsimonious, saving habit ; so easy 
 is it to frame excuses, and by trifling precautions to escape impor- 
 tunity, or at once to silence it ; that it may well excite both won- 
 der and delight to find charity associated with splendor. It is 
 surprising, however, and no less deplorable than surprising, that 
 
196 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 persons of this class will not consider for a moment, how easily, 
 with how few sacrifices even of time or money, they might be 
 extensively useful. A single drop of supply from their replen- 
 ished cup of worldly prosperity, would often make •' the widow's 
 heart to sing for joy," and prove a healing cordial to the suf- 
 ferings of perishing humanity. A slight taxation upon even 
 acknowledged superfluity, would, in some cases, produce an 
 ample revenue for many indigent families, although religion 
 claims, on their behalf, more than a scanty and unwilling pit- 
 tance; for "he which soweth sparingly, shall reap also sparingly J 
 and he which soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully. 
 Every man, according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him 
 give ; not grudgingly or of necessity, for God loveth a cheerful 
 giver. 
 
 LucRETiA Maria Davidson. Nature, that generally pro- 
 duces every thing in classes, now and then transcends her 
 ordinary laws and brings forth a prodigy; either some flower of 
 exquisite beauty, or an animal of fine proportions, that place him 
 above his species ; and sometimes in the human family we find 
 lovely proportions of form united to mental superiority. These 
 excite the attention of the philosophical few, and the admiration 
 of all. These prodigies of mind and person are often men- 
 tioned as a tale, and then pass away, and those who come after, 
 set the whole down as a creature of the imagination. The bio- 
 graphical sketches of Heinecken, of the admirable Crichton, as 
 he was called, are hardly ranked among matters of fact ; nor 
 would one half the world have believed in the extraordinary 
 genius of Chatterton, or Henry Kirke White, had not their wri- 
 tings been preserved to prove that all that was said of them was 
 just and true to the letter. Sometimes these minute details of 
 extraordinary precocity grew out of mistaken pride, or parental 
 blindness, and not unfreqently from the grief at the loss of pro- 
 mising children. It frequently happens that those who, by con- 
 stitution, are destined to an early grave, are more solemn and 
 thoughtful than other children, and mixing reflection with pre- 
 sentiment, make remarks that are remembered by the fond 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 197 
 
 mother after they sleep in the grave. And who will deny that 
 sometimes divine influence are shed upon those who die prema- 
 turely. In nature, the violet crushed in its infancy, has a sweeter 
 perfume than those that stand the long gaze of summer suns. 
 
 Among those authenticated instances of precocity, in which 
 were displayed intellect, refinement, delicacy, affection, and 
 purity. Miss Davidson held the first rank. This extraordi- 
 nary young lady was born, September 27th, 1808, at Platts- 
 burgh, on Lake Champlain. She was the daughter of Oliver 
 Davidson, and Margaretta his wife. Her father was a physician 
 in that place, and, like many professional men, found himself 
 in straitened circumstances as his young family increased. 
 Lucretia had not any extraordinary advantages of education, 
 and in fact, but little more instruction than her mother could 
 spare to give her in her hours of relaxation from domestic affairs, 
 but the little girl was caught writing poetry at a very early age ; 
 but in her excitement at the discovery, she burnt her productions. 
 The earliest piece of poetry from her pen, which is now to be 
 found, was written when she was only nine years old. It is an 
 epitaph on a robin, and is very pretty. The subject is a com- 
 mon one for a young rhymer. The innocence and beauty of 
 the bird, so often domesticated, united to the sentimental story of 
 the orphan children, exposed by an unfeeling uncle, to starvation 
 in the woods, in which little robin red-breast makes a conspic- 
 uous figure in the sepulchral rites, and funeral dirge. This epic 
 of the nursery is often said or sung to the child in the cradle, 
 and as often fills the infant eye with the sympathetic tear. 
 Most of us have had robins in our childhood, and have lost 
 them ; and can easily judge of the natural sentiments of this 
 little effusion. 
 
 The feelings of Miss Davidson were as exquisite as her un- 
 derstanding was precocious, for on receiving a present as a mark 
 of esteem from a friend, in order that she might purchase books 
 to aid her in her education, she insisted that her mother should 
 take it, as it might be wanted in the family. This of course 
 was refused ; and at one time, understanding that her neighbors 
 
 and friends thought that she should work more and read less, 
 
 17* 
 
198 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 she gave up her books altogether. This mimosa shrunk in 
 eveiy leaf, but by the advice of a judicious mother, she resumed 
 her studies by degrees, and mingled household cares with her 
 literary pursuits. She soon acquainted herself with the best of 
 the English poets and essayists, and at once became mistress of 
 their contents. 
 
 In 1 824, a patron and friend of the family insisted that she 
 should be sent to Mrs. Willard's school at Troy, and her parents 
 consented. She was an obedient, excellent scholar, in all the 
 regular studies ; but such a mind as hers could not be confined 
 to the routine of school lessons. She read nature as well as 
 books, and it was seen that her body could not bear the intense 
 activity of her mind. She felt then all the agitations and inspi- 
 rations which the bard of Avon so exquisitely describes, when 
 he presents the poet to our view. 
 
 So delicate a mind as Miss Davidson possessed, should have 
 been diverted from the emulation which arises in public schools, 
 and which is necessary to bring forth common children, even of 
 good capacities, and have received her education in private. 
 She left Mrs. Willard's school and returned to Plattsburgh, but 
 her desire for knowledge was so ardent, that she could not be 
 contented at home, and was soon afterwards sent to Albany, and 
 put under the care of Miss Gilbert, but she was soon ill again. 
 A consumption was known by her friends to be hurrying her 
 to the grave ; but for a while, and even until almost the last, she 
 entertained hopes of recovery; and had her books, those she 
 was most fond of, in sight, that she might indulge in the contem- 
 plation of the time when she should be allowed to open them 
 again, to cull from the pages the sweets of knowledge ; but alas ! 
 this was never for her to do. She lingered until the twenty- 
 seventh of August, 1825, and then sunk to rest. Her memory 
 was fine, and her judgment and taste far above those of her age. 
 Her affections were all pure and her sentiments lofty. She was 
 beautiful in person, and this often throws a charm over senti- 
 ment. Complexion, feature, expression, and intellectual phisiog- 
 nomy, such as she possessed, added, no doubt, to the admiration 
 her friends felt for her genius ; but abating much for all this, the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 199 
 
 coldest and severest critic, cannot refrain applying the epithet, 
 angelic to her character and compositions. Among her wri- 
 tings, some are most pleased with " Amir Khan," but we think 
 some other writings from her pen show as much genius as that 
 poem. The critics across the water, who seldom arrive at a 
 kind and just feeling of us and of our wonders, spoke of her 
 talents with enthusiastic praises. It is understood that a second 
 edition of her works, with the addition of several unpublished 
 pieces and her letters, are soon to be given to the public. We 
 should love to see all the productions of so gifted a mind and so 
 pure a heart. We turn to them again and again unwilling to 
 give up the look, and hang enamored over such proofs of celes- 
 tial light as her pages contain. 
 
 THE FAMILY TIME-PIECE. 
 
 [written in her fifteenth year.] 
 
 Friend of my heart, thou monitor of youth, 
 Well do I love thee, dearest child of truth ; 
 Though many a lonely hour thy whisperings low 
 Have made sad chorus to the notes of wo. 
 
 Or 'mid the happy hour which joyful flew. 
 Thou still wert faithful, still unchanged, still true ; 
 Or when the task employed my infant mind, 
 Oft have I sighed to see the lag behind ; 
 
 And watched thy finger with a youthful glee, 
 When it had pointed silently, " be free ;" 
 Thou wert my mentor through each passing year ; 
 'Mid pain or pleasure, thou wert ever near. 
 
 And when the wiiigs of time unnoticed flew, 
 I paused, reflected, wondered, turned to you; 
 Paused in my heedless round, to mark thy hand, 
 Pointing to conscience, like a magic wand; 
 
 To watch thee stealing on thy silent way. 
 
 Silent, but sure, time's pinions cannot stay; 
 
 How many hours of pleasure, hours of pain. 
 
 When smiles were brightning round affliction's train 1 
 
 How many hours of poverty and wo. 
 Which taught cold drops of agony to flow ? 
 
200 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 How many hours of war, of blood, of death, 
 Which added laurels to the victor's wreath? 
 
 How many deep-drawn sighs thy hand hath told 
 
 And dimmed the smile, and dried the tear which rolled? 
 
 When the loud cannon spoke the voice of war. 
 
 And death and bloodshed whirled their crimson car? 
 
 When the proud banner, waving in the breeze, 
 Had welcomed war, and bade adieu to peace, 
 Thy faithful finger traced the wing of time, 
 Pointed to earth, and then to heaven sublime. 
 
 Unmoved amid the carnage of the world. 
 When thousands to eternity were hurled, 
 Thy head was reared aloft, truth's chosen child, 
 Beaming serenely through the troubled wild. 
 
 Friend of my youth, e're from its mould' ring clay 
 My joyful spirit wings to heaven its way ; 
 O mayst thou watch beside my aching head. 
 And tell how fast time flits with feathered tread. 
 
 TO A STAR. 
 
 [written in her fifteenth year.] 
 
 Thou brightly-glittering star of even, 
 Thou gem upon the brow of Heaven, 
 Oh ! were this fluttering spirit free. 
 How quick 'twould spread its wings to thee. 
 
 How calmly, brightly dost thou shine. 
 Like the pure lamp in Virtue's shrine ! 
 Sure the fair world which thou mayst boast 
 Was never ransomed, never lost. 
 
 There, beings pure as Heaven's own air, 
 Their hopes, their joys together share ; 
 While hovering angels touch the string, 
 And seraphs spread the sheltering wing. 
 
 There cloudless days and brilliant nights, 
 Illumed by Heaven's refulgent lights; 
 There seasons, years, unnoticed roll, 
 And unregretted by the soul. 
 
 Thou little sparkling star of even, 
 Thou gem upon an azure Heaven, 
 How swiftly will I soar to thee. 
 When this imprisoned soul is free. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 201 
 
 Frances D'Arblay, the subject of this biographical sketch, 
 was the daughter of Doctor Burney, the eminent professor and 
 historian of music. This gentleman was not more admired on 
 account of his abilities in a science, which universally engages 
 enthusiastic attention, than he was esteemed a faithful friend, a 
 prudent counsellor, and an amiable companion. 
 
 All the children of this worthy and accomplished man, have 
 reflected honor on their parent ; but the lady whose intellectual 
 plan of life we are now going to unfold, was justly the most 
 admired; and if the compliment be thought very high, which 
 tells a woman that she is *' faii'fest where all his fair," the decla- 
 ration of the merit of Miss Burney is not faint praise, which 
 names her " most admirable, where all have been admired." 
 
 Doctor Burney sought, by every inducement in his power, to 
 lead all his children towards those studious pursuits which 
 were consonant with the strain of his own mind ; but he found 
 that no stress was necessary to turn the attention and labors of 
 his daughter Frances into that track : " Song was her favorite, 
 and her first desire;" and while the employment of her life was 
 a search after wisdom, 
 
 " Whate'er of beautiful, or new, 
 
 Sublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky. 
 By chance, or search, was offered to her view, 
 
 She scann'd with curious, and romantic eye, 
 Whate'er of lore, tradition could supply 
 
 From Gothic tale, or song, or fable old, 
 Rous' d her, still keen, to listen and to pry. 
 
 Her mfancy, though adorned with the usual ornaments of female 
 education, a dexterity in managing the needle and the pencil, 
 was devoted, like that of the young Edwin of Beattie, to the 
 acquirements of the nobler decorations of science and philosophy. 
 As the doctor, who directed her studies, saw the wide field in 
 which she had to move, he did not attempt to circumscribe the 
 excursions of his pupil's mind. He allowed her to range at 
 large through the momentous defiles and tremendous heights 
 of history. He did not restrain her, when her adventurous 
 spirit sought the more daring and trackless regions of romance. 
 
202 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 She possessed a solid understanding, as well as an excursive 
 fancy ; and when the bird flew abroad in the wilderness of fable, 
 her careful guardian knew that she remembered where the 
 olive grew, and that she would return, to again sip with him 
 from the fountain of truth. 
 
 Notwithstanding the general approbation which followed her 
 novel of "Evelina," she did not betray any signs of being inflated 
 with consciousness of worth ; no vanity seemed to whisper to 
 her, that she was superior to others, and that there would be 
 delight in displaying her triumph. On the contrary, she rather 
 avoided than sought society, which would have hailed her with 
 eagerness, and loaded her with applause. The timidity of her 
 nature shrank from crowds ; and even small circles, unless 
 formed of intimate acquaintances, were too oppressive, and de- 
 manded from her a greater exertion of spirits than her retired 
 habits would allow her to summon for the occasion. Her home 
 and her library, were central attractions which bound her to 
 themselves. She had read enough of the world to persuade her 
 to relinquish all desire of seemg it ; and she thought that a 
 modern fine lady, and even a modern beau, whether titled or of 
 "humbler note," were poor exchanges, to be accepted in lieu of 
 the worthies of Greece, and Rome, and Old England. 
 
 She was herself almost an Evelina in actual acquaintance 
 with mankind, when, for a private reason, which reflects the 
 highest honor on her heart and domestic affection, she produced 
 that justly admired novel. It was written and published un- 
 knoAvn to her father; who, having occasion to visit the me- 
 tropolis, soon after its issue from the press, heard nothing else 
 spoken of Indeed, the applause was so general, that his curi- 
 osity was excited to see what all the world praised; and resolving 
 to treat his family with so fashionable a feast, he made a purchase 
 of the book. 
 
 When the business which carried him to town was completed, 
 he returned to Chessington, (a any old mansion, then inhabited 
 by Mr. Crisp,) where his children were upon a visit. With 
 them and their worthy host, he proposed reading the far famed 
 adventures of " Evelina." 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 203 
 
 It was in the rural precincts of Chessington Hall, that the 
 early genius of Miss Burney first tried its strength. It was 
 there that the seducing form of romance, that lovely daughter 
 of imagination, rose to the sight of the youthful enchantress. 
 The vision passed in ethereal beauty before her eyes ; and 
 myrtles, and roses, and overshadowing eglantines, formed the 
 theatre on which the magic scene was performed. 
 
 The acclamations which followed the closing of the last 
 volume, ratified the approbation of the public. The amiable 
 author looked from side to side, and overcame by the delicious 
 feelings which rushed upon her heart, she burst into tears, and 
 throwing her arms about her father's neck, avowed herself to 
 be the writer of " Evelina." The astonishment and pleasure of 
 Doctor Burney were nearly equal, and he could scarcely 
 credit his senses. Intelligent as he knew his daughter to be, 
 he had formed no conception that such maturity of observation, 
 fancy, judgment, and style, could have been displayed by a girl 
 of seventeen ; by one who appeared to the outward eye, a mere 
 infant in artlessness and inexperience ; and whose deep seclu- 
 sion from the world had shut her out from all visual knowledge 
 of its ways. But the proof showed a different conclusion. 
 Though bred a simple country girl, and apparently little be- 
 yond a child in discernment, yet nature had taught her own 
 scholar, and gave to her morning of life a proficiency in the art 
 of composition, which few attain at the noon, or at the close. 
 
 So great was the success of" Evelina," that it went through four 
 editions in one year, and brought the author into such repute, 
 that her acquaintance was sought by some of the most illustrious 
 characters in England. Doctor Samuel Johnson was one of 
 her first, and it may be presumed, one of her most beneficial 
 friends. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who is called the " Father of the 
 British School of Painting," was one of the earliest to single her 
 out as an object of distinguished esteem ; while Edmund Burke, 
 who was himself not only the analyzer of the sublime and beau- 
 tiful, but, like Longinus, could show in his own writing the finest 
 models of that " sublimity and beauty which he drew," proved 
 one of Miss Burney's most intimate acquaintance. 
 
204 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 It was in such society that she learned to make those obser- 
 vations, which led her to write the novel of " Cecilia," which is 
 generally regarded as the best of her works, with such pre- 
 cision of character, discernment into human nature, and power 
 over the sympathies of her readers. The last and longest of her 
 novels was " Camilla," which was favored with one of the largest 
 subscriptions that ever preceded the title page of any book, and 
 brought a golden wreath to adorn the brow of its author. 
 
 Miss Burney married Monseur d' Arblay, a French gentleman 
 of family, who was obliged to leave his country during the 
 horrors of the revolution. 
 
 After the publication of " Camilla," Madame d' Arblay and her 
 husband remained for a considerable time to their cottage in 
 Surry. Contented with her lot, and grateful to that providence 
 which had cast it in the vale of life, where storms seldom rage, 
 and envy will not deign to enter to disturb its calm, she enjoyed, 
 with temperance and satisfaction, the endearing tenor of her 
 days. Thus did month after month, and year after year, glide 
 gently over her head. But Monseur d' Arblay longed to revisit 
 his country ; his patriot spirit " yearned for his buried home ;" 
 and when peace was at last proclaimed between England and 
 France, he proposed to his wife a journey to the continent. His 
 wishes were commands to her, whose happiness was entirely 
 comprised in his ; and after a short time spent in the usual pre- 
 parations, separations, condolements, and promises of return, 
 they set out for France. Madame d' Arblay has within a few 
 years past written a life of her father, Doctor Burney, but either 
 the subject was one of so much interest to her that she could not 
 do it justice, or she was not accustomed to write biography, and 
 had not studied the rules of this species of composition, for these, 
 or some other reasons, her work was not popular. She cer- 
 tainly had lost much of her taste for pure, good English. From 
 living so many years with a husband who was a foreigner, of 
 powerful mind and a finished education, and to whom she was 
 greatly attached, it is more than probable that her genius, 
 lost that independence, which it so happily discovered, when 
 its flights were self-directed. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 205 
 
 Sarah Edwards, the wife of the celebrated metaphysician 
 and scholar, Jonathan Edwards, and daughter of the Rev. John 
 Pierpoint, a descendant of the duke of Kingston, and of course 
 a relation of the celebrated Lady Wartley Montague, was born 
 at New Haven, on the ninth of January, 1710. Mrs. Edwards 
 was a beauty and a scholar ; she early became celebrated, and 
 attracted the attention of the young men of that age ; but she 
 gave her hand to Mr. Edwards, who united a genteel person 
 with rare attainments and exemplary piety. She had an excel- 
 lent education, she was chivalrous in her acquirements and her 
 virtues. In the sublime views Mr. Edwards had of religion, he 
 was alive to all who had the cause of the church at heart, and 
 was made acquainted with this extraordinary female, when she 
 was a mere child. This acquaintance was kept up until she 
 was eighteen years of age, when they were married, and re- 
 moved to Northampton, at which place he had been previously 
 settled over a congregation. He was some years older than 
 his wife ; but at the tune of his marriage, was a bright and 
 shining light in the church. Owing to some difficulty arising 
 out of his views of duty, in extending his discipline beyond the 
 ordinarily received pastoral functions of a clergyman, he en- 
 countered, notwithstanding his talents and piety, a serious oppo- 
 sition, which destroyed his usefulness in that place. She was all 
 the time his firm, affectionate friend and counsellor, and softened 
 evils that would have otherwise been grievous indeed ; she took 
 care of all the household concerns, and left her husband free to 
 pursue his studies, and he was a devoted student. Mrs. Ed- 
 wards took special care of the education of her children, and 
 they rewarded her for all her pains. The whole of her family 
 that grew to maturity, became distinguished persons ; many of 
 them were conspicuous in early youth. The biographers of 
 this excellent woman are never tired of speaking of her religious 
 course, for it was as remarkable for consistency as fervor. Her 
 son in law. Dr. Burr, president of Princeton College, died in 
 1757, and her husband was at once appointed to supply his 
 place; he did not long fill it, for he died in the spring of 1758 
 
 of the small- pox. His wife had not then joined him at Prince- 
 
 18 
 
206 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ton. His death was communieated to her by a letter from Dr. 
 Shippin. The letter reached Mrs. Edwards and was indeed a 
 severe shock to her ; but her feelings had been so disciplined, 
 that she was in a manner prepared for every event that might 
 happen. Mrs. Burr and her children were inoculated at the 
 same time with President Edwards, and had recovered when he 
 died, but she had a relapse, which carried her off very suddenly, 
 on the seventh of April, 1758, in the twenty-seventh year of her 
 age, leaving two children. Mrs. Edwards did not long survive 
 her husband, she died on the second of October of the same 
 year, aged forty-nine. Her remains were carried to Princeton, 
 to repose with those of her husband, daughter, and son in law. 
 In little more than a year these four persons went down to the 
 grave; the three latter being in good health when President 
 Burr died. The letters of Mrs. Edwards were mostly on pious 
 subjects, and carry no extraordinary marks of genius ; but con- 
 temporary history must be in the greatest error if her powers of 
 mind were not of the highest order, and perhaps, of the most 
 exalted kind. Such women were truly the mothers in Israel, 
 whose descendants rise up and call them blessed. 
 
 Elizabeth of Austria, was the daughter of the Emperor 
 Maximilian II., and wife of Charles IX., of France, to whom 
 she was united at Mazieres, in 1471. The horrid massacre of 
 St. Bartholomew was executed without her knowledge, and she 
 never named it without the liveliest feelings of grief; yet she 
 was a princess who did not interfere with the affairs of govern- 
 ment, and cruel as Charles' disposition was, he felt towards her 
 the tenderest regard. Upon his death bed he recommended her 
 in the tenderest manner to Henry his successor, who always 
 treated her with the greatest respect. She died in a convent of 
 her own founding, in the thirty-ninth year of her a^. This 
 princess is not only allowed to have been an amiable, but an in- 
 telligent character, and she published two different works, one 
 on the " Word of God and the Creation ;" and the other " A 
 Relation of the chief events in France." They are hardly now 
 to be found. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 207 
 
 Elpis, a lady of the fifth century, descended from one of the 
 most considerable families of Messina, was first wife of the cele- 
 brated Boethius. Like her husband she w^as devoted to science 
 and shared with him his literary labors. She examined passages 
 and transcribed quotations, and the same ardor eminently ap- 
 peared in both. Far from withdrawing him from his studies, 
 she was sedulous to animate him when he grew langTiid in 
 them. In her, all the accomplishments of the head and heart 
 were united. She had a fine taste in literature, particularly in 
 poetry, and was a shining exam.ple of every virtue ; so that she 
 must have been a delightful companion to this eminent philoso- 
 pher and statesman. Indeed, each are said to have thought their 
 destinies equally enviable. She had the happiness of seeing her 
 two sons, Patritius and Hypatius raised to the consular dignity, 
 which their father had also several times enjoyed, but she died 
 before any of his latter misfortunes had befallen him. After the 
 death of this beloved wife, Boethius married again, and is said 
 to have been equally fortunate in his second choice. 
 
 Elizabeth, queen of England. If the question respecting 
 the equality of the sexes was to be determined by an appeal to 
 the characters of sovereign princes, the comparison is, in pro- 
 portion manifestly in favor of woman, and that without having 
 recourse to the trite and flippant observation, proved to have 
 been ill-founded, of male and female influence. Elizabeth of 
 England aflbrds a glorious example in truth of this position. 
 
 Daughter of Henry VIII., a capricious tyrant, and of the im- 
 prudent and unfortunate Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth was born at 
 Greenwich, on the banks of the Thames, September 7th, 1533. 
 Her infancy was unfortunate through the unhappy fate of her 
 mother, but she was nevertheless educated with care and atten- 
 tion ; in her yet infant faculties her father had the discernment 
 to perceive uncommon strength and promise. Lady Champern- 
 vun, an accomplished and excellent woman, was appointed by 
 Henry, governess to the young princess. It appears to have 
 been the custom of the times to instruct young women in the 
 learned languages ; an admirable substitute for fashionable and 
 
208 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 frivolous acquisitions; habits of real study and application have 
 a tendency to strengthen the faculties and discipline the imagina- 
 tion. Mr. William Grindal was Elizabeth's Jfirst classical tutor ; 
 with him she made a rapid progress ; from other masters she 
 received the rudiments of modern languages ; at eleven years of 
 age, she translated out of French verse into English prose, " The 
 Mirror of the Sinful Soul," which she dedicated to Catherine 
 Parr, sixth wife to Henry VIIL At twelve years of age, she 
 translated from the English into Latin, French, and Italian, 
 prayers and meditations, &c., collected from different authors, by 
 Catherine, queen of England. These she dedicated to her 
 father, December 30th, 1545, MS. in the royal library at West- 
 minster. She also, about the same period, translated from the 
 French, " The Meditations of Margaret, queen of Navarre, 
 &c.," published by Bale, 1548. 
 
 Mr. Ascham thus speaks of Elizabeth, in a letter to Sir 
 John Cheke : " It can scarcely be credited to what degree of 
 skill in the Latin and Greek she might arrive, if she should pro- 
 ceed in that course of study wherein she hath begun by the 
 guidance of Grindal." In 1548, she had the misfortune to lose 
 her tutor, who died of the plague. At this time, it is observed 
 by Camden, that she was versed in the Latin, French, Spanish, 
 and Italian tongues, had some knowledge of the Greek, was 
 ■well skilled m music, and both sung and played with art and 
 sweetness. 
 
 After the death of her father, her brother king Edward, who 
 tenderly loved her, encouraged her in her studies and literary 
 pursuits, while, without imposition or restraint, he left her to 
 choose her own principles and preceptors. To supply the loss 
 of her tutor, she addressed herself to the celebrated Roger As- 
 cham, who, at her solicitation, left Cambridge, and consented to 
 become her instructor. Under him, she read the orations of 
 Eschines and Demosthenes' " De Corona," in Cxreek, and under- 
 stood at first sight, not only the force and propriety of the lan- 
 guage and the meaning of the orator, but the whole scheme of 
 the laws, customs, and manners of the Athenians, By Doctor 
 Grindal, professor of theology, she was initiated into the subtle- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 209 
 
 ties of polemic divinity, to which she gave assiduous application. 
 Such, during the short reign of her brother, was the laudable 
 and tranquil time of her life, and by these occupations and pur- 
 suits, she was prepared for the great part she was to act on the 
 theatre of Europe. 
 
 In July, 1553, Mary, after the death of Edward, succeeded to 
 the throne ; and having received from her sister many favors 
 and testimonies of esteem, she treated her at first with a form of 
 regard ; but Elizabeth was afterwards imprisoned, and harshly 
 treated, even to the hazard of her life. Her sufferings were 
 however mitigated by the interposition of Philip, the husband 
 of Mary, for which she was ever grateful. 
 
 The reign, the bigotry, and the butchery of Mary, who, to do 
 God service, amused herself by burning and torturing her peo- 
 ple, lasted five years and four months. She died, fortunately 
 for the nation, November 17th, 1558. A parliament had been 
 assembled a few days previous to her death, to which the chan- 
 cellor notified the event. *' God save dueen Elizabeth," re- 
 sounded in joyful acclamations through both houses, while by 
 the people a transport still more general and fervent was ex- 
 pressed. 
 
 The commencement of her reign was not less auspicious, 
 than its duration was prosperous to the country, and glorious to 
 herself It is observed by Bayle, that to say only that no woman 
 reigned with more glory, would be saying little. *' It must be 
 added, that there have been but few great kings whose reigns 
 are comparable to hers, it being the most beautiful period of 
 English history." 
 
 Elizabeth when informed of the death of her sister, was at 
 Hatfield, whence, after a few days, she proceeded to London, 
 through crowds of people, who contended with each other in 
 testimonies of joy and attachment. On entering the Tower, she 
 was affected with the comparison of her past and present situa- 
 tion ; once a captive, exposed to the bigotry and malignity 
 of her enemies, now a sovereign, triumphant over her adversa- 
 ries, and the hope and joy of the nation. Falling on her knees, 
 
 she expressed her gratitude to heaven, for the deliverance she 
 
 18* 
 
210 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 had experienced from her persecutors, a deliverance, she declar- 
 ed, not less miraculous than that of Daniel from the den of lions. 
 With a magnanimity that did her honor, and a prudence that 
 evinced her judgment, she threw a veil over every offence that 
 had been committed against her, and received graciously and 
 with affability the most virulent of her enemies. 
 
 On the death of her sister, Elizabeth had, by her ambassador, 
 signified her accession to the pope, whose precipitate temper^ 
 insolent reflections, and extravagant demands, determined her to 
 persevere in the plan she had already secretly embraced. While, 
 to conciliate the catholics she retained in her cabinet eleven of 
 her sister's counsellors, she took care to ballance their power by 
 adding to their number eight partisans of the protestant faith ; 
 among whom were Sir Nicholas Bacon, whom she created lord 
 keeper, and Sir William Cecil, made secretary of state. 
 
 Cecil assured her, that the greater part of the nation, since the 
 reign of her father, inclined to the reformation, though constrain- 
 ed to conceal their principles by the cruelties practised under the 
 late reign. These arguments, to which other considerations and 
 reasonings were added, founded on policy, and on a knowledge 
 of mankind, had their just weight with Elizabeth, and deter- 
 mined her to adopt the party which education and political wis- 
 dom equally inclined to her favor. Yet she wisely resolved to 
 proceed gradually, by safe and progressive steps. As symptoms 
 of her future intentions, and with a view of encouraging the 
 protestants, whom persecution had discouraged and depressed, 
 she recalled all the exiles, and gave liberty to those who had, on 
 account of their religion, been confined in prison. She also 
 altered the religious service, and gave orders, that the Lord's 
 prayer, the litany, the creed and the gospels, should be read 
 in the church in the vulgar tongue ; and she forbade the eleva- 
 tion of the host in her presence. 
 
 The bishops, forseeing in these measures the impending 
 change, refused to officiate at her coronation ; and it was not 
 without difficulty that the bishop of Carlisle was at length pre- 
 vailed upon to perform the ceremony. Amidst the joyful accla- 
 mations of her subjects, as she was conducted through London, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 21 1 
 
 a boy, personating Truth, let down from a triumphal arch, pre- 
 sented to her a copy of the bible. She received the present gra- 
 ciously, placed it near her heart, and declared, that of all the 
 costly testimonies of attachment given to her that day by the 
 city, this was the most precious and acceptable. Elizabeth in- 
 sinuated herself into the affections of the people by the most 
 laudable art ; frank in her address, and, on all public occasions, 
 affable, conciliating and easy of access, she appeared, delighted 
 with the concourse that crowded around her ; entered, without 
 forgetting her dignity, into the pleasures and amusements of her 
 subjects; and acquired a popularity unknown to her predeces- 
 sors. Her youth, her graces, her prudence, her fortitude, and 
 her talents, attracted the admiration of one sex, and afforded to 
 the other a subject of pride and triumph. Individuals were cap- 
 tivated by her complacency, the public won by her services, 
 while her authority, chastened by religion and law, appeared to 
 be derived from its legitimate source, the choice and affections 
 of the people. 
 
 The commons entreated her with all humility, that she would 
 make choice of a husband, to share with her the weight of 
 government ; a request which they hoped, from her sex and age, 
 would not be displeasing or offensive. To this Elizabeth repli- 
 ed, that as their application was expressed in general terms, 
 merely recommending marriage, without pretending to direct 
 her choice, she could not be offended, or regard their v/ishes 
 otherwise than as a new instance of their attachment towards 
 her ; but that any farther interposition respecting this subject, on 
 their part, it would ill become them as subjects to make, or her, 
 as an independent princess to endure. England was the hus- 
 band which she had betrothed to her ; Englishmen were her 
 children ; while employed in rearing and governing such a fa- 
 mily, she could not deem herself sterile, or her life useless. She 
 desired, for her own part, no higher character, nor fairer remem- 
 brance of her to be transmitted to posterity, than to have this 
 inscription, when she should pay the debt of nature, engraven 
 on her tomb: "Her lies Queen Elizabeth, who lived and died 
 a maiden queen." 
 
212 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Misfortune threw the queen of Scots in the power of Eliza- 
 beth, and she was denied those services, to which the unfortunate 
 are entitled. Elizabeth viewed her with jealousy as heir to the 
 crown, and she was fearful that her beauty and influence, might 
 supplant her popularity. She was kept in prison eighteen years, 
 and then executed on the scaffold. This transaction, will ever 
 remain a foul blot on the character of Elizabeth. 
 
 Neither the cares of government, nor the infirmities of ap- 
 proaching age, weaned her from the love of letters, which, at 
 every interval of leisure, were her great delight. When nearly 
 sixty years of age, in 1592, she made a second visit to Oxford, 
 where, having been entertained with orations, disputations, &c., 
 she pronounced, on her departure, a Latin oration to the ■vace- 
 chanceilors and doctors, when she took her last farewell of the 
 university. In the ensuing year, she translated from Latin into 
 English, Boethius' " De Consolatione Philosophge." In 1598, 
 when the disturbances in Ireland occupied a considerable share 
 of her attention, she translated Sallust's " De hello Jugurthino." 
 Also, the greater part of Horace's " De Arte Poetica," and Plu- 
 tarch's book, " De Curiositate," all of which were written in 
 her own hand. 
 
 But Elizabeth no longer took an interest in public concerns ; 
 her sun was sitting, overshadowed by a dark cloud. Prosperity 
 and glory palled upon her sense ; an incurable melancholy had 
 fixed itself on her heart. The anxiety of her mind made swift 
 ravages upon her feeble frame ; the period of her life visibly ap- 
 proached. The archbishop of Canterbury advised her to fix 
 her thoughts on God. She did so, she replied, nor did her 
 mind in the least wander from him. Her voice and her senses 
 soon after failing, she fell into a lethargic slumber, which hav- 
 ing continued some hours, she expired gently, without a strug- 
 gle, March 24th, 1603, in the seventieth year of her age, and the 
 forty-fifth of her reign. 
 
 The character of Elizabeth appears to have been exalted by 
 her friends, and depreciated by her enemies, in nearly equal pro- 
 portions. As a monarch, her activity and force of mind, her 
 magnanimity, sagacity, prudence, vigilance, and address, have 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 213 
 
 scarcely been surpassed in royal annals, and are worthy of the 
 highest admiration. Pope Sixtus V. spoke of her on all occa- 
 sions as " a woman with a strong head," and gave her a place 
 among the three persons, who, in his opinion, only deserved to 
 reign; the remaining two were himself and Henry IV., of 
 France. " Your queen," said he, once to an Englishman, " is 
 born fortunate, she governs her kingdom with great happiness ; 
 she wants only to be married to me, to give the world a second 
 Alexander." 
 
 Her temper and her talents equally fitted her for government. 
 Capable of self-command, and of controlling her own passions, 
 she acquired an unlimited ascendency over those of her people. 
 She possessed courage without temerity; spirit, resource, and 
 activity in war, with the love of peace and tranquillity. Her 
 frugality was exempt from avarice, it was the result rather of 
 her love of independence, than a passion for accumulation. She 
 never amassed any treasures. Her friendships were uniform 
 and steady, yet she was never governed by her favorites, a cri- 
 terion of a strong mind. Her choice in her ministers gave 
 proof of her sagacity, as her constancy in supporting them did 
 of her firmness. If a conduct less rigorous, less imperious, 
 and more indulgent, would have thrown greater lustre over her 
 character, let it be remembered, that some good qualities appear 
 to be incompatible with others ; nor let the seductive and corrupt- 
 ing nature of power be left out in the account. Her insincerity 
 was perhaps the greatest blot in her character, and the fruitful 
 source of all the vexatious incidents of her reign. Though un- 
 acquainted with philosophical toleration, the only method of dis- 
 arming the turbulence of religious factions, she yet preserved 
 her people, by her prudence and good sense, from those theo- 
 logical disputes which desolated the neighboring nations. 
 
 Beset with enemies, both at home and abroad, among the most 
 powerful princes in Europe, the most enterprising and the least 
 scrupulous, the vigor of her administration enabled her to de- 
 feat all their purposes, to annoy and plunder them in their own 
 dominions, and to preserve her own dignity untouched and un- 
 impaired. Few monarchs have succeeded to a throne in more 
 
214 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 difficult circumstances, nor have any ever reigned with more 
 uniform success and prosperity. 
 
 If, as a woman, cut off by the peculiarities of her situation 
 from the sympathies of nature, and the charm of equal affec- 
 tions, Elizabeth, at times, suffered under these privations, which 
 even gave to her sensibility additional force and accuteness, the 
 strength of her reason still triumphed over her passions, and the 
 struggle which her victories cost her, served but to display the 
 firmness of her resolution, and the loftiness of her mind. 
 
 The praises which have by some been bestowed upon Eliza- 
 beth, for her regard for the constitution and tender concern for 
 the liberties of the people, are wholly without foundation. Few 
 princes have exerted with more arbitary power the regal prero- 
 gatives, which had been transmitted to her by her immediate pre- 
 decessors ; 3?-et no censure belongs to her for this conduct, in the 
 principles of which she had been trained, and of the justice of 
 which she was persuaded. What potentate, what man, has vo- 
 luntarily resigned the power in which those beneath him quietly 
 acquiesced ? Compared with the reigns of her father and sister, 
 that of Elizabeth might be termed a golden age. 
 
 In the article of her dress, only, Elizabeth affected an expen- 
 sive magnificence. Her opinion of her beauty, and her passion 
 for admiration, led her to study variety and richness in her 
 apparel. She appeared almost daily in different habits, and 
 tried every mode of varying their form. Nor would she ever 
 part with her clothes. At her death, three thousand different 
 dresses were found in her wardrobe. Next to her desire of per- 
 sonal admiration, was her vanity of authorship. Learning was 
 the fashion of the times ; the ladies of the court, in imitation of 
 the queen, valued themselves on their erudition. Yet Elizabeth 
 was by no means a patroness of letters; Spenser, the finest 
 English writer of the age, was long neglected, and at the 
 death of his patron, Sir Philip Sidney, was suffered to perish 
 almost for want. Shakspeare was almost her only favorite. 
 His elegant compliment to the " maiden queen" in " The Mid- 
 summer's Night's Dream," won her heart, and her regard foi 
 him was substantial and unvarying. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 215 
 
 Elizabeth Ferguson was the daughter of Dr. Thomas 
 Graeme, by Anne, the daughter of Sir William Keith, then 
 governor of Pennsylvania. Her father was a native of Scotland, 
 and a graduate in medicine. For nearly half a century he 
 maintained the first rank in his profession in the city of Phila- 
 delphia. He held, during a great part of this time, the office 
 of collector of the port. Her mother possessed a masculine 
 mind, with all those female charms and accomplishments which 
 render a woman alike agreeable to both sexes. They had 
 one son and three daughters, all of whom attained to the age 
 of maturity. The subject of this memoir was the youngest of 
 them. She discovered, in early life, signs of uncommon talents 
 and virtues, both of which were cultivated with great care, and 
 chiefly by her mother. Her person was slender, and her health 
 delicate. The latter was partly the effect of native weakness, 
 being feeble from her birth, and partly acquired by too great 
 application to books. She passed her youth in the lap of pa- 
 rental affection. A pleasant and highly improved retreat, known 
 by the name of Grasme Park, in Montgomery county, twenty 
 miles from Philadelphia, in which her parents spent their sum- 
 mers, afforded her the most delightful opportunities for study, 
 meditation, rural walks, and pleasures, and, above all, for culti- 
 vating a talent for poetry. This retreat was, moreover, conse- 
 crated to society and friendship. A plentiful table was spread 
 daily for visitors, and two or three young ladies from Philadel- 
 phia generally partook with Miss Graeme of the enjoyments 
 which her situation in the country furnished. About her seven- 
 teenth year she was addressed by a citizen of Philadelphia of 
 respectable connexions and character. She gave him her heart, 
 with the promise of her hand upon his return from London, 
 whither he went to complete his education in the law. From 
 causes which it is not necessary to detail, the contract of mar- 
 riage, at a future day, was broken, but not without much suffer- 
 ing on the part of Miss Graeme. To relieve and divert her 
 mind from the effects of this event, she translated the whole of 
 Telemachus into English verse ; but this, instead of saving, 
 perhaps aided the distress of her disappointment in impairing 
 
216 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her health, and that, to such a degree as to induce her father, in 
 conjunction with two other physicians, to advise a voyage to 
 England for its recovery. Her mother concurred in this advice, 
 but for another reason besides that of restoring her daughter's 
 health. This venerable and excellent woman had long labored 
 under a disease which, she believed, would have a fatal issue. 
 She anticipated the near approach of death ; and that it might 
 be less terrible to her, she wished her daughter to be removed 
 beyond the sphere of the counter attractions of her affections 
 from the world of spirits, which her presence near her deathbed 
 would excite. This feeling is not a solitary or casual one, in 
 the human mind. Archbishop Lightfoot wished to die from 
 home, that he might dissolve more easily his ties to his family. 
 A lady in Philadelphia, some years ago, in her last moments 
 said to her daughter, who sat weeping at her bedside, " Leave 
 me, my child ; I cannot die while you are in the room." Many 
 instances of similar conflicts between religion and nature have 
 occurred in domestic history which have escaped general obser- 
 vation. 
 
 Mrs. Graeme died, according to her expectations and wishes, 
 during her daughter's absence, leaving behind her two farewell 
 letters, to be delivered to her on her return ; one upon the choice 
 of a husband, and the other upon the management of a family. 
 These letters contain many original ideas, and the most ardent 
 expressions of maternal affection. The tenor of these expres- 
 sions may easily be conceived by the following sentence extracted 
 from the introduction to one of them : " I have rested for some 
 time with my pen in my hand, from being at a loss to find out 
 an epithet to address you with, that shall fully express my affec- 
 tion for you. After a good deal of deliberation I can find no- 
 thing that pleases me better than 'my own dear Betsey.' "* 
 
 * Mrs. Graeme left letters to several of her friends, to be delivered to them 
 after her death. The following is an extract from one of them to Mrs. Red- 
 man, the wife of the late Dr. John Redman : 
 
 " I have been waiting with a pleasing expectation of my dissolution a great 
 while, and I believe the" same portion of grace which has been aflTorded me 
 hitherto, will not be withdrawn at that trying hour. My trust is in my hea- 
 venly Father's mercies, procured and promised for the all-sufficient merits of 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 217 
 
 Miss Graeme spent a year in England, where she was accom- 
 panied by the Rev. Dr. Richard Peters of Philadelphia, a gen- 
 tleman of highly polished manners, and whose rank enabled 
 him to mtroduce her to the most respectable circles of company. 
 She sought, and was sought for, by the most celebrated literary 
 gentleman who flourished in England at the time of the acces- 
 sion of Georo-e III. to the throne. She was introduced to this 
 monarch, and particularly noticed by him. The celebrated Dr. 
 Fothergill, whom she consulted as a physician, became her 
 friend and correspondent as long as he lived. An accident 
 attached the sentimental and then popular author of Tristram 
 Shandy to her. She took a seat upon the same stage with him 
 at the York races. While bets were making upon different 
 horses, she selected a small horse that was in the rear of the 
 coursers as the subject of a trifling wager. Upon being asked 
 the reason for doing so, she said that " the race was not always 
 to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." Mr. Sterne, who stood 
 near to her, was struck with this reply, and, turning hastily 
 towards her, begged for the honor of her acquaintance. They 
 soon became sociable, and a good deal of pleasant conversation 
 took place between them, to the great entertainment of the sur- 
 rounding company. 
 
 Upon her return to Philadelphia, she was visited by a nu- 
 merous circle of friends, as well to condole with her upon the 
 death of her mother, as to welcome her arrival to her native 
 shores. She soon discovered, by the streams of information she 
 poured upon her friends, that she had been " all eye, all ear, 
 and all grasp," during her visit to Great Britain. The Journal 
 she kept of her travels, was a feast to all who read it. Manners 
 and characters in an old and highly civilized country, contrasted 
 with those to which she had been accustomed in our own,, ac- 
 companied with many curious facts and anecdotes, were the 
 
 my blessed Saviour, so that whatever time it may be before yoa see this, or 
 whatever weakness I may be under on my deathbed, be assured this is my 
 faith ; this is my hope from my youth up until now. And thus, my dear, X 
 takemy final leave of you. Adieu, forever. ANNE GRAEME-" 
 
 Sept. 22, 1762. 
 
 i9 
 
218 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 component parts of this interesting manuscript. Her modesty 
 alone prevented its being made public, and thereby affording a 
 specimen to the world, and to posterity, of her happy talents 
 for observation, reflection, and composition. 
 
 In her father's family she now occupied the place of her 
 mother. She kept his house, and presided at his table and fireside 
 in entertaining all his company. Such was the character of Dr. 
 Graeme's family for hospitality and refinement of manners, that 
 all strangers of note who visited Philadelphia were introduced 
 to it. Saturday evenings were appropriated for many years, 
 during Miss Graeme's winter residence in the city, for the enter- 
 tainment, not only of strangers, but of such of her friends of both 
 sexes as were considered the most suitable company for them. 
 These evenings were, properly speaking, of the attic kind. The 
 genius of Miss Graeme evolved the heat and light that animated 
 them. One while she instructed by the stores of knowledge 
 contained in the historians, philosophers, and poets of ancient 
 and modern nations, which she called forth at her pleasure ; and 
 again she charmed by a profusion of original ideas, collected by 
 her vivid and widely expanded imagination, and combined with 
 exquisite taste and judgment into an endless variety of elegant 
 and delightful forms. Upon these occasions her body seemed 
 to evanish, and she appeared to be all mind. The writer of this 
 memoir would have hesitated in giving this description of the 
 luminous displays of Miss Grseme's knowledge and eloquence 
 at these intellectual banquets, did he not know there are several 
 ladies and gentlemen now living in Philadelphia, who can 
 testify that it is not exaggerated, 
 
 It was at one of these evening parties she first saw Mr. Hugh 
 Henry Ferguson, a handsome and accomplished young gentle- 
 man who had lately arrived in this country from Scotland. 
 They were suddenly pleased with each other. Private inter- 
 views soon took place between them, and in the course of a few 
 months they were married. The inequality of their ages, (for 
 he was ten years younger than Miss Grasme,) was opposed, in a 
 calculation of their conjugal happiness, by the sameness of their 
 attachment to books, retirement, and literary society. They 
 
^ FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 219 
 
 settled upon the estate in Montgomery county, which Mrs. Fer* 
 gnson's father, who died at an advanced age, soon after her mar- 
 riage, bequeathed to her. But before the question of their 
 happiness could be decided by the test of experiment, the dis- 
 pute between Great Britain and America took place, in which 
 it became necessary for Mr. Ferguson to take part. He joined 
 the former in the year 1775, and from that time a perpetual 
 separation took place between hipi and Mrs. Ferguson. Other 
 causes contributed to prevent their reunion after the peace of 
 1783; but the recital of them would be uninteresting as well 
 as foreign to the design of this publication. Mrs. Ferguson 
 passed the interval between the year 1775 and the time of her 
 death, chiefly in the country upon her farm, in reading, and in 
 the different branches of domestic industry. A female friend 
 who had been the companion of her youth, and whose mind 
 was congenial to her own, united her destiny with hers, and 
 soothed her various distresses by all the kind and affectionate 
 offices which friendship and sympathy could dictate. In her 
 retirement she was eminently useful. The doors of the cot- 
 tages that were in her neighborhood bore the marks of her 
 footsteps, which were always accompanied or followed with 
 clothing, provisions, or medicines, to relieve the nakedness, 
 hunger, or sickness of their inhabitants. During the time 
 general Howe had possession of Philadelphia, she sent a quan- 
 tity of linen into the city, spun with her own hands, and directed 
 it to be made into shirts for the benefit of the American prisoners 
 that were taken at the battle of Germantown. 
 
 Upon hearing, in one of her visits to Philadelphia, that a 
 merchant, once affluent in his circumstances, was suddenly 
 thrown into gaol by his creditors, and was suffering from the 
 want of many of the usual comforts of his life, she sent him a 
 bed, and afterwards procured admission into his apartment, and 
 put twenty dollars into his hands. He asked for the name of 
 his benefactor. She refused to make herself known to him, 
 and suddenly left him. This humane and charitable act would 
 not have been made known, had not the gentleman's description 
 of her person and dress discovered it. At this time her anny.al 
 
220 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 income was reduced to the small sum of one hundred and sixty- 
 dollars a year, which had heen saved by the friendship of the 
 late Mr. George Meade, out of the wreck of her estate. Many 
 such secret acts of charity, exercised at the expense of her per- 
 sonal and habitual comforts might be mentioned. They will all 
 be made known elsewhere. In these acts she obeyed the gospel 
 commandment of loving her neighbors better than herself Her 
 sympathy was not only active, but passive in a high degree. In 
 the extent of this species of sensibility, she seemed to be all nerve. 
 She partook of the minutest sorrows of her friends, and even a 
 newspaper that contained a detail of public or private wo, did 
 not pass through her hands without being bedewed with a tear. 
 Nor did her sympathy with misery end here. The sufferings 
 of the brute creation often drew sighs from her bosom, and led 
 her to express a hope that reparation would be made to them 
 for those sufferings in a future state of existence. 
 
 I have said that Mrs. Ferguson possessed a talent for poetry. 
 Some of her verses have been published, and many of them are 
 in the hands of her friends. They discover a vigorous poetical 
 imagination, but the want of a poetical ear. This will not sur- 
 prise those who know there may be poetry without metre, and 
 metre without poetry. 
 
 The prose writings of Mrs. Ferguson indicate strong marks 
 of genius, taste, and knowledge. Nothing that came from her 
 pen was common. Even her hasty notes to her friends placed 
 the most trivial subjects in such a new and agreeable light, as 
 not only secured them from destruction, but gave them a durable 
 place among the most precious fragments of fancy and sentiment. 
 
 Mrs. Ferguson was a stranger to the feelings of a mother, 
 for she had no children, but she knew, and faithfully performed 
 all the duties of that relation to the son and daughter of one of 
 her sisters, who committed them to her care upon her deathbed. 
 They both possessed hereditary talents and virtues. Her nephew, 
 John Young, became under her direction, an accomplished 
 scholar and gentleman. He died a lieutenant in the British 
 army, leaving behind him a record of his industry and know- 
 ledge, in an elegant translation of d' Argent's Ancient Geography, 
 
' FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 221 
 
 into the English language. A copy of this valuable work is to 
 be seen in the Philadelphia Library, with a tribute to the 
 memory of the translator, by Mrs. Ferguson.* The mind of her 
 niece, Ann Young, was an elegant impression of her own ; she 
 married Dr. William Smith, of Philadelphia, and lived but a 
 few years afterwards. She left a son and daughter ; the latter 
 followed her mother prematurely to the grave, in the year 1808, 
 in the thirtieth year of her age, after exhibiting to a numerous and 
 affectionate circle of acquaintances, a rare instance of splendid 
 talents and virtues, descending unimpaired through four succes- 
 sive generations. 
 
 The virtues which have been ascribed to Mrs. Ferguson, 
 were not altogether the effects of education, nor of a happy 
 moral texture of mind. They were improved, invigorated, and 
 directed in their exercises by the doctrines and precepts of 
 Christianity. To impress the contents of the bible more deeply 
 upon her mind, she transcribed every chapter and verse in it, 
 and hence arose the facility and success with which she fre- 
 quently selected its finest historical and moral passages to illus- 
 trate or adorn the subjects of her writings and conversation. 
 
 She was well read in polemical divinity, and a firm believer 
 in what are considered the mysteries of revelation. Although 
 educated in the forms, and devoted to the doctrines of the church 
 of England, she worshipped devoutly with other sects, when 
 she resided among them, by all of whom she was, with a singular 
 ananimity, believed to be a sincere and pious Christian. 
 
 There was a peculiarity in her disposition, which would 
 seem, at first sight, to cast a shade over the religious part of her 
 character. After the reduction of her income, she constantly 
 refused to accept of the least pecuniary assistance, and even of 
 
 * A singular incident laid the foundation for the literary acquirements of 
 this young gentleman. Before his twelfth year he was an idle boy ; about that 
 time, his aunt locked him in her father's library, for four and twenty hours, as 
 a punishment for some offence. In this situation, he picked up a book to re- 
 lieve himself from the uneasiness of his soUtude. This book arrested and 
 fixed his attention. He read it through, and from that time he became 
 devoted to books and study. 
 
 19* 
 
222 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 a present, from any of her friends. Let those persons Avho are 
 disposed to ascribe this conduct to unchristian pride, recollect, 
 there is a great difference between that sense of poverty, which 
 is induced by adverse dispensations of providence, and that 
 which is brought on by voluntary misconduct. Mrs. Ferguson 
 conformed, in the place and manner of her living, to the nar- 
 rowness of her resources. She knew no want that could make 
 a wise or good woman unhappy, and she was a stranger to the 
 "real evil" of debt. Her charities, moreover, w^ould not have 
 been her own, had they been replaced by the charities of her 
 friends. 
 
 The afflictions of this excellent woman, from all the causes 
 that have been mentioned, did not fill up the measure of her 
 sufferings. Her passage out of life w^as accompanied with great 
 and protracted pain. This welcome event took place February 
 23d, 1801, in the sixty-second year of her age, at the house 
 of Seneca Lukins, a member of the society of Friends, near 
 Graeme Park. Her body was interred, agreeably to her re- 
 quest, by the side of her parents in the enclosure of Christ 
 Church, in Philadelphia. 
 
 Should this attempt to rescue the name and character of this 
 illustrious woman from oblivion, fall into the hands of any of 
 those who have been accustomed to feel an elevation of soul in 
 contemplating the honor which Madame Dacier, Madame 
 Sevigne, Lady Rachael Russel, and Mrs. Rowe, have conferred 
 upon their respective countries ; let them exult not less in re- 
 flecting, that a similar honor has been conferred upon the United 
 States, by the singular attainments and virtues of Mrs. Elizabeth 
 Ferguson. 
 
 Catharine Fisher. The biographers of this lady, appear 
 to have been ignorant of her origin, though they all agree in 
 allowing that she possessed great comprehension of mind, and 
 allowed that she was one of the most perfect linguists that 
 adorned the sixteenth century. About the year 1559, she mar- 
 ried Gualtherus Gruter, a burgomaster of Antwerp, by whom 
 she had one son, the celebrated James Gruter, whose philosophi- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 223 
 
 cal works have been so universally admired. In the early part 
 of his life he had no other instructor than his mother, who was 
 perfect mistress both of Latin and Greek ; and to her has been 
 ascribed his fondness for study, as it is during childhood that a 
 bias is given to the mind. At what age she died has not been 
 specified, but the year her biographers believe to have been 1579, 
 the time when her son left the university at Cambridge, to study 
 at Leyden ; but this circumstance is not positively ascertained. 
 
 Elizabeth Fane, author of several pious meditations and 
 proverbs in the English language, which were printed by 
 Robert Crowland, with this title, " The Lady Elizabeth Fane's 
 Twenty-one Psalms, and One Hundred and Two Proverbs, 
 London, 1550." Who this lady was it is not easy to ascertain ; 
 by the title one would suppose her to be an earl's daughter, but 
 it does not appear from Dugdale, Collins, or any other, who have 
 given the peerage of the Fane family, that there was, or in- 
 deed, could be, any such lady in it, near the time she is supposed 
 to have lived. She was, therefore, very probably, either the 
 wife of Richard Fane, who' married Elizabeth, the daughter 
 and heiress of Stidolph, living in the latter end of the reign of 
 Henry VHL, or of Sir Thomas Fane, w^ho was engaged in 
 Wyatt's rebellion, in the first year of Glueen Mary. 
 
 Sarah Fielding, the third sister of Henry Fielding, the 
 celebrated English novelist, was born in 1714, lived unmarried, 
 and died at Bath, where she had long resided, m April, 1768. 
 She was a woman of literary taste, and had no small share of 
 her brother's talents and turn for works of the imagination. Her 
 novels made some noise in their day, but her last work was the 
 most celebrated ; this was " Xenophon's Memoirs of Socrates, 
 with the defence of Socrates before his Judges," translated from 
 the original Greek, 1762, 8vo. This translation is executed 
 with taste and fidelity ; a learned friend, Mr. Harris, added some 
 excellent notes to the work. A monument w^as erected to her 
 memory, by Dr. John Hoadly, with a good epitaph, complimen- 
 tary to her virtues and talents. 
 
224 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Margaretta V. Faugeres, a woman equally distinguished 
 for her talents and for her misfortunes, was the daughter of Mrs. 
 Ann Eliza Bleeker, mentioned in this volume, was born 1771. 
 She spent the first years of her life in the village of Tombanick, 
 about eighteen miles from Albany. Her mother was her school- 
 mistress, and of course, the instruction she received was of the 
 first order. She began to versify almost in her cradle, for every 
 thing was romantic in this Vaucluse which they inhabited. Her 
 first sorrow was in her fifth year, when her mother fled with 
 her in her arms from the dread of the approach of Burgoyne's 
 army. She lost this good mother when she was only twelve 
 years old. But she still continued her studies, and became dis- 
 tinguished in the fashionable circles as a well educated woman, 
 when she first came into society in the city of New York, a few 
 years after the war. The wealth of her father, and the literary 
 fame of her mother, and her own personal charms, made her a 
 belle of the first order, in the circles of taste and fashion. Among 
 other admirers, Doctor Peter Faugeres, a physician, paid his 
 addresses to her, and was most favored by Margaretta. He was 
 more fashionable than some others, but his principles had been 
 formed by the school of French philosophers, and he had an air 
 of high benevolence and of disinterestedness ; but her father saw 
 through his character, and remonstrated against the union of 
 such a man and his daughter. Opposition probably strengthen- 
 ed her attachment, and she married Faugeres. He became dis- 
 sipated and profligate, and squandered her fortune, which was 
 considerable. Her father died in 1795 ; after which, she led a mi- 
 serable life with the author of her misfortunes ; and in this case, 
 as it often happens, the wretch who had made a woman miser- 
 able, attempted to smother a recollection of his bad conduct in 
 vituperations and blasphemies. But he was not long suffered 
 to torture the innocent, or to degrade the fallen ; for he fell a 
 victim, in 1798, to the yellow fever. Soon after her husband's 
 death, Mrs. Faugeres assisted in a female academy, at New 
 Brunswick, an office for which she was singularly fitted. Her 
 affectionate disposition, her high attainments, her sense of duty, 
 most nobly qualified her for such a station ; but here she was 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 225 
 
 not destined to be in peace. Her misfortunes and mortifications 
 had penetrated her heart ; and, after a few struggles, she found 
 it breaking, and then composed herself to die. Religion came 
 to her comfort, and she cast a sickly look upon the world, and 
 died in visions of happiness, in the twenty-ninth year of her age. 
 Parents are often bleameably severe, but children are more often 
 governed by passion and false reasoning, and live to bewail their 
 errors, when repentance is vain, and hope has departed. Mrs. 
 Faugeres published tho works of her mother, Mrs. Bleeker, and 
 with them memoirs of her own life, with several essays from 
 her own pen. In 1796, she published " Bellisarius," a tragedy, 
 which is spoken of by those who have read it, as containing 
 some fine writing. The realities of life exceed the dreams of 
 fancy, or the creations of fiction. A list of those who disobeyed 
 parental authority in forming matrimonal connections, might be 
 read as a wholesome lesson to cure female pertinacity ; and, per- 
 haps, on the other hand, ambitious and short-sighted parents, 
 might find something to reflect upon, in driving their daughters 
 to the arms of wealthy dulness, or avaricious moroseness. Rea- 
 son, forbearance, kindness, yielding, and! a knowledge of the 
 human heart, are all necessary to make judicious selections of 
 husbands or wives. The following lines are subjoined as a 
 specimen of her poetical talents. 
 
 THE HUDSON. 
 
 Nile's beauteous waves, and Tiber's swelling tide 
 
 Have been recorded by the hand of Fame, 
 And various floods, which through earth's channels glide 
 
 From some enraptured bard have gain'd a name; 
 E'en Thames and Wye have been the poet's theme, 
 
 And to their charms hath many a harp been strung. 
 Whilst, Oh ! hoar genius of old Hudson's stream, 
 
 Thy mighty river never hath been sung : 
 Say, shall a female string her trembling lyre. 
 
 And to thy praise devote the adventurous song 1 
 Fired with the theme, her genius shall aspire. 
 
 And the notes sweeten as they float along. 
 Where rough Ontario's restless waters roar, 
 And hoarsely rave around the rocky shore ; 
 Where their abode tremendous north-winds make, 
 And reign the tyrants of the surging lake ; 
 
226 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 There, as the shell- crown'd genii of its caves 
 Toward proud Lawrence urged their noisy waves, 
 A form majestic from the flood arose ; 
 A coral bandage sparkled o'er his brows, 
 A purple mantle o'er his hmbs was spread, 
 And sportive breezes in his dark locks played : 
 Toward the east shore his anxious eyes he cast. 
 And from his ruby lips these accents pass'd: 
 "O favor'd land ! indulgent nature yields 
 Her choicest sweets to deck thy boundless fields ; 
 Where in thy verdant glooms the fleet deer play, 
 And the hale tenants of the desert stray. 
 While the tall evergreens that edge the dale 
 In silent majesty nod to each gale : 
 Thy riches shall no more remain unknown. 
 Thy wide campaign do I pronounce my own ; 
 And while the strong arm'd genii of this lake 
 Their tributary streams to Lawrence take, 
 Back from its source my current will I turn, 
 And o'er thy meadows pour my copious urn." 
 
 He said, and, waving high his dripping hand ; 
 Bade his clear waters roll toward the land. 
 Glad they obey'd, and struggling to the shore, 
 Dash'd on its broken rocks with thundering roar : 
 The rocks in vain oppose their furious course ; 
 From each repulse they rise with tenfold force ; 
 And gathering all their angry powers again, 
 Gushed o'er the banks, and fled across the plain. 
 Soon as the waves had pressed the level mead. 
 
 Full many a pearly-footed Naiad fair, 
 With hasty steps, her limped fountain led. 
 
 To swell the tide, and hail it welcome there : 
 Their busy hands collect a thousand flowers, 
 And scatter them along the grassy shores. 
 There, bending low, the water-lilies bloom. 
 And the blue crocus shed their moist perfume ; 
 There the tall velvet scarlet lark-spur laves 
 Her pale green stem in the pellucid waves ; 
 There nods the fragile columbine, so fair, 
 And the mild dewy wild-rose scents the air; 
 While round the trunk of some majestic pine, 
 The blushing honeysuckle's branches twine: 
 There too Pomona's richest gifts are found, 
 Her golden melons press the fruitful ground ; 
 The glossy crimson plums there swell their rinds, 
 And purple grapes dance to antumnal winds ; 
 While all beneath the mandrake's fragrant shade 
 The strawberry's delicious sweets are laid. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Through many a "blooming wild," and woodland green, 
 
 The Hudson's sleeping waters winding stray; 
 Now 'mongst the hills its silvery waves are seen, 
 
 And now through arching willows steal away: 
 Then bursting on the enamor'd sight once more, 
 
 Gladden some happy peasant's rude retreat; 
 And passing youthful Troy's commercial shore, 
 
 With the hoarse Mohawk's roaring surges meet. 
 Oh, beauteous Mohawk! 'wildered with thy charms. 
 
 The chilliest heart sinks into rapturous glows : 
 While the stern warrior, used to loud alarms. 
 
 Starts at the thunderings of thy dread Cohoes. 
 Now more majestic rolls the ample tide, 
 
 Tall waving elms its clovery borders shade, 
 And many a stately dome, in ancient pride. 
 
 And hoary grandeur there exalts its head. 
 There trace the marks of culture's sunburnt hand. 
 
 The honeyed buck- wheat's clustering blossoms view, 
 Dripping rich odors, mark the beard-grain bland, 
 
 The loaded orchard, and the flax field blue. 
 Albania's gothic spires now greet the eye ; 
 
 Time's hand hath wiped their burnished tints away, 
 And the rich fanes which sparkled to the sky, 
 
 'Reft of their splendors, mourn in cheerless gray. 
 There many an ancient structure tottering stands ; 
 
 Round the damp chambers mouldy vapors creep, 
 And feathery-footed Silence folds her hands, 
 
 While the pale genii of the mansion sleep. 
 Yet thither Trade's full freighted vessels come; 
 
 Thither the shepherds mercantile resort : 
 There Architecture late hath raised her dome, 
 
 And Agriculture's products fill her port. 
 The grassy hill, the quivering poplar grove. 
 
 The copse of hazle, and the tufted bank, 
 The long green valley, where the white flocks rove ; 
 
 The jutting rock, o'erbung with ivy dank ; 
 The tall pines waving ^n the mountain's brow, 
 
 Whose lofty spires catch day's last lin;^ering beam; 
 
 The bending willow weeping o'er the stream. 
 The brook's soft gurglings, and the garden's glow. 
 
 Low sunk between the Alleganian hills. 
 For many a league the sullen waters glide, 
 And the deep murmur of the crowded tide. 
 
 With pleasing awe the wandering voyager fills. 
 
 On the green summit of yon lofty clift 
 A peaceful runnel gurgles clear and slow, 
 
 Then down the craggy steep-side dashing swift, 
 Tremendous falls in the white surge below. 
 
228 FEMALE BIOORAFHY. 
 
 Here spreads a clovery lawn its verdure far, 
 
 Around it mountains vast their forests rear, 
 And long ere day hath left his burnish'd car, 
 
 The dews of night have shed their odors there. 
 There hangs a lowering rock across the deep ; 
 
 Hoarse roar the waves its broken base around ; 
 Through its dark caverns noisy whirlwinds sweep, 
 
 While Horror startles at the fearful sound. 
 The shivering sails that cut the fluttering breeze, 
 
 Glide through these winding rocks with airy sweep ; 
 Beneath the cooling glooms of waving trees. 
 
 And sloping pastures speck'd with fleecy sheep. 
 
 MoDERATO FoNTE, a Venetian lady, born in 1555. Though 
 placed in a monastery, she married, and after twenty years of 
 conjugal happiness, died in 1592. Her memory was so reten- 
 tive, that she could repeat, verbatim, a discourse when only once 
 heard. She wrote a poem called " II Floridore," and another 
 on " The Passion and Resurrection of Christ," besides, " De 
 meriti de le Donne," in which she maintains that the female sex 
 is not inferior in understanding to the male. 
 
 CiciLiA Fleron, the third daughter of Sir Thomas Moore, 
 was born in the year 1510, and, with the rest of her sisters, re- 
 ceived an education calculated to invigorate the powers of the 
 mind. In the annals of celebrated females, her perfect know- 
 ledge of the Latin language is mentioned. She corresponded in 
 Latin with the celebrated Erasmus. 
 
 Eliza Frothingham, was born in Newburyport, a seaport 
 of Massachusetts, in 1792. She was a young lady of talents, 
 and in that quiet and delightful town, received a good, solid 
 education, with a share of ornamental acquirements. She was 
 desirous of gaining knowledge, and made no ordinary efforts to 
 obtain it. Her father died in 1807, just as she was leaving 
 school, and left his family in easy circumstances. On quitting 
 school, as was the fashion then, when a girl was well grown, 
 she pursued a course of rigid self-instruction, in the higher 
 branches of learning. In the town of her nativity were proba- 
 bly established the first primary and infant schools that can be 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 229 
 
 found in the annals of instruction. This was nearly half a 
 century since. These schools were under the direction of the 
 school committee, and were kept by females. The Hon. Jona- 
 than Jackson, and the Rev, John Murray, were instrumental in 
 getting- the town to establish these schools. No mention was 
 made in their report, of the existence of any such infant schools 
 in Germany or elsewhere.* The institutions were, of course, 
 
 * It has often been said that Germany had the honor of first establishing 
 primary schools ; but soon after the peace of 1783 there were four schools 
 established in Newburyport, and others added as they were required. There 
 is no account of any such schools in Germany or France until a much later 
 period. The writer of this note was a member of the school committee 
 in that town for several years, and is well acquainted with the records of that 
 body. The claim of Louise Scheppler to the honor of having been the origi- 
 nator of these schools and for which the French Acadamy awarded her five 
 thousand franks is so well told in the life of Cuvier that we cannot refrain 
 from inserting it here. She is an ornament to her sex and deserves her fame. 
 
 "Louise Scheppler, has, perhaps, carried this industrious beneficence still 
 farther, for it is not one family, it is an entire country which enjoys the fruits of 
 her benevolence ; a whole country which has been vivified by the charity of a 
 poor servant. In the rudest part of the chain of the Vosgcs mountains is a 
 valley, almost separated from the rest of the world. Sixty years back it 
 afforded but scanty nourishment to a half-civilized population, consisting of 
 only eighty families, distributed in five villages. Their ignorance and their 
 poverty were equally great ; they neither understood German nor French ; a 
 patois, uninteUigible to any but themselves, was their sole language ; and, 
 what is scarcely credible, their misery had not softened their manners. These 
 peasants, like the lords of the middle ages, governed by force, hereditary feuds 
 divided famiUes, and more than once gave rise to acts of criminal violence. 
 A pious pastor, named John Frederick Oberlin, who has since become so 
 celebrated, undertook to civilize them ; and for this purpose, like one who 
 knew mankind, he first attacked their poverty. With his own hands he set 
 the example for all useful labors, and, armed with a pickaxe, he directed them 
 in the construction of a good road, digging and laboring with them ; he 
 taught them to cultivate the potatoe ; he made them acquainted with good 
 vegetables and fruits ; showed them how to ingraft, and gave them excellent 
 breeds of cattle and poultry. Their agriculture once perfected, he introduced 
 manufactures among them, in order to employ superfluous hands ; he gave 
 them a saving bank, and put them in communication with the commercial 
 houses of the neighboring towns. As their confidence increased with their 
 improvement, he, by degrees, gave them instruction of a higher nature. He 
 himself was their schoolmaster, till he could form one capable of seconding 
 his endeavors. Having once learned to love reading, every thing became 
 easier ; chosen works were brought to them to aid the conversation and 
 example of the pastor; religious feelings, and, with them, mutual benevo- 
 lence, insinuated themselves into their hearts ; quarrels, crimes, and lawsuits 
 
 20 
 
I 
 230 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 confined to the town, the limits of which were narrow ; and on 
 its borders, there were children who could not share the advan- 
 tages of the labors of these female instructors. Seeing this, a 
 few pious and spirited young ladies opened schools for them in 
 several places, and became voluntary teachers, without the 
 slightest reward, except the consciousness of doing good. Miss 
 Frothingham was among the most diligent of these teachers. 
 
 disappeared : and, if by chance, some dispute arose, they, with one accord, 
 came to Oberlin, and begged him to put an end to it. In short, when this 
 venerable man was nearly at the end of his career, he was able to say, that 
 in this province, once so poor and thinly populated, he left three hundred 
 families, regular in their habits, pious and enlightened in their sentiments, 
 enjoying remarkable ease of circumstances, and provided with the means of 
 perpetuating these blessings. A young female peasant, from one of these 
 villages, named Louise Scheppler, though scarcely fifteen years of age, was 
 so forcibly impressed with the virtues of this man of God, that, although she 
 enjoyed a small patrimony, she begged to enter into his service, and take a 
 part in his charitable labors. From that time she never accepted any wages; 
 she never quitted him ; she became his help, his messenger, and the guardian 
 angel of the rudest huts. She afibrded the inhabitants every species of con- 
 solation; and in no instance can we find a finer example of the power of 
 feeling to exalt the intelligence. This simple village girl entered into the 
 elevated views of her master, even astonishing him by her happy sugges- 
 tions, which he unhesitatingly adopted in his general plan of operation. 
 She it was who remarked the difficulty that the laborers in the fields 
 experienced, in combining their agricultural employments with the care 
 ef their younger children, and who thought of collecting together, even 
 infants of the earliest age in spacious halls, where, during the absence of 
 their parents, some intelligent instructresses should take care of, amuse, 
 teach them their letters, and exercise them in employments adapted to their 
 ages. Prom this institution of Louise Scheppler arose the infant schools of 
 England and France, where the children of the working classes, who would 
 otherwise be exposed to accidents and vicious examples, are watched over, 
 instructed, and protected. The honor of an idea which has produced such 
 beautiful results, is solely due to this poor peasant of Ban de la Roche : to 
 this she consecrated all her wordly means, and, what are of more value, her 
 youth and her health. Even now, though advanced in years, she, without 
 receiving the smallest compensation, assembles a hundred children round 
 her, from three to seven years of age, and instructs them according to their 
 capacities. The adults, thanks to M. Oberlin, have no further moral wants; 
 but there are yet some, who in sickness or old age, have need of physical aid. 
 Louise Scheppler watches over them, carries them broth, medicine, in short, 
 every thing, not forgetting pecuniary succor. She has founded and regulated 
 a sort of Mont de Piete, of a peculiar kind, which would be an admirable 
 institution elsewhere, if it could be multiplied like the infant schools ; for it is 
 among the very small number of those which merit the name given to them, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 231 
 
 The task of instruction was not all ; these young ladies took 
 great pains in dressing their children in decent apparel, gene- 
 rally made from garments partly worn, that had been given them 
 for that purpose. Before she was twenty years of age, she 
 became devoted to the cause of religion, and seemed to take 
 but little interest in the affairs of the world. She gave up all 
 amusements, but never discovered the slighest marks of severity 
 towards others. Those whom she strove in vain to allure from 
 the vanities of the world, had her entreaties and her prayers, 
 but never her frowns. She looked on the world as passing 
 away, and not worth much anxiety. She was the friend of the 
 poor at all times, and truly, her pity gave, ^ere charity began. 
 There was no parade in her benevolence ; she gave so delicately, 
 that every thing from her hand received a new value, from the 
 manner of bestowing. She entered the house of want and sick- 
 ness, with some confidential friend, when the world were not 
 
 for money is there lent without interest and without securities. When M. 
 Oberlin died, he, by will, left Louise Scheppler to his children ; the simple 
 words of a dying master may be heard with interest, and will be more elo- 
 quent than any thing we can add: — 'Heave my faithful nurse to you, my 
 dear children, she who has reared you, the indefatigable Louise Scheppler ; 
 to you also she has been a careful nurse, to you a faithful mother and instruc- 
 tress; in short, every thing; her zeal has extended still farther; for, like a 
 true apostle of the Lord, she has gone to the villages where I have sent her, 
 to gather the children round her, to instruct them in the will of God, to sing 
 hymns, to show them the works of their all-powerful and paternal Maker, 
 to pray with them, to communicate to them all the instructions she had 
 received from me and your own excellent mother. The innumerable difficul- 
 ties she met with in these holy occupations would have discouraged a thou- 
 sand others ; the surly tempers of the children, their patois language, bad 
 roads, inclement weather, rocks, water, heavy rain, freezing winds, hail, deep 
 snow, nothing has daunted her. She has sacrificed her time and her person 
 to the service of God, Judge, my dear children, of the debt you have con- 
 tracted to her for my sake. Once more, I bequeath her to you ; let her see, 
 by your cares, the respect you feel towards the last will of a father — I am 
 sure you will fulfil my wishes, you will in your turn, be to her altogether, and 
 each individually, that which she has been to you.' Messieurs and Mesde- 
 moiselles Oberlin, faithful to the wishes of their father, were desirous of 
 bestowing on Louise the inheritance of a daughter : but nothing could induce 
 this generous woman to lessen the small patrimony left by her master; and 
 all she asked was, permission to add the name of Oberlin to her own. Those 
 who claim this honorable appellation as a birthright, think themselves still 
 further honored by her sharing the title." 
 
232 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 gazing, and literally did good by stealth. When she found her- 
 self approaching another world, her serenity was not disturbed ; 
 all was calm about her heart. She would sit and gaze on the 
 evening star, as though onward, that way, she was soon to take 
 flight. At such times, even firm-nerved philosophy wished to 
 catch a glow of this amiable enthusiast, but could not. She left 
 the world without a sigh. One who knew her well, the author 
 of " Sketches among the Tombs," thus speaks of this estimable 
 young woman : 
 
 " I passed from this grave across a narrow road, to a field, 
 which had, more recently than the other, been consecrated for 
 the burial of the dead. I remembered the spot when only a few 
 bodies had been deposited in it. The grave digger's spade had 
 vexed the bosom of the earth only in a few places, when I was 
 there before, and it had then nothing of that sanctity which the 
 fiill congregation of the dead give to the ground in which they 
 sleep. It was now thickly peopled, and sod touched sod, and 
 numerous monuments were clustered together in melancholy 
 closeness. Affection had been busy in tracing the sentiments of 
 regret and love on the marble ; but strange as it may seem, there 
 are but few epitaphs, which do not offend taste, as yet to be found 
 in our cemeteries. In this cluster, one stone of snowy white- 
 ness struck my sight. It was erected to the memory of one I 
 had been acquainted with in former days. She had come to this 
 abode spotless as unsunned snows. It was a fresh grave ; the 
 sods had not as yet become so connected with the earth beneath 
 them, as to give life to the vegetation on their surface ; the grass 
 was dry — it had withered when she died I had seen some 
 notice of the decease of this young lady in the papers of the 
 day, but after paying her memory the tribute of a passing sigh, 
 I had forgotten the event, with other occurrences of the time. 
 Now a chill ran through my frame, and her death come upon 
 me as something I had just heard of I had seen her when she 
 was just rising on the horizon of life, fresh from ihe nursery and 
 the school-room, in the loveliness of fifteen. She had taste, 
 genius, ambition, and industry, and was anxious to be accom- 
 plished in the most valuable acquirements of literature. I had 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 233 
 
 taken no little pleasure in directing such a delicate mind in a 
 course of reading. I had seen her too, when that mind was 
 more matured, and she was diffusing that delight in every circle 
 in which she moved, which always flows from frankness, intel- 
 ligence, and refinement. Soon, however, a religious impression 
 of a severe and gloomy cast, came over her, and she saw folly, 
 if not sin, in the common amusements of society ; but still she 
 could never lose her magnanimity and forgiving disposition. 
 Plunged into the active scenes of life, I had, for several years, 
 lost sight of this young lady and her pursuits. Such are the 
 blossoms of early friendship. The flowers which spring from 
 that most prolific of all soils, the heart, while it is yet unac- 
 quainted with the world, are as transitory as the summer cloud, 
 and the tints of the morning rainbow. The cares of a few 
 years in the world, are as deadly to those plants which come 
 up suddenly in the youthful bosom, as the mighty hand of the 
 mountain-frost, when he descends upon the luxuriant growth of 
 the vale. In one respect, however, the simile does not hold 
 good, for the natural flower becomes loathsome after it is chilled 
 to death, while those of sentiment, when resuscitated, like the 
 accidental rose leaves which fall into our hands from a favorite 
 page of some choice volume, which has for a long time remain- 
 ed unopened, retain all their beauty of color and sweetness of 
 perfume. I gazed upon the grave until a thousand pleasing 
 images flitted across my mind, and there was not a spectre 
 amongst them all ; nothing less pure than the sainted shade of 
 her whose narrow bed I was now contemplating. The twilight 
 had now come on ; the moon was rising in beauty and majesty, 
 and the stars, one after another, were making their appearance. 
 The dead of all times, in this lonely hour, seemed to gather 
 round me, and converse with me, as if I had passed the verge 
 of time, and was treading on the confines of eternity. There 
 came a voice on the soft breeze, which said, or seemed to say, 
 *' Proud moralist, what avails your philosophy at such an hour 
 as this ? Come learn how to die in this assembly of the dead ; 
 the dissolution of nature is not so dreadful as your imagination 
 
 paints it ; the bosom of our mother earth is not so cold as you 
 
 20* 
 
234 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 think it ; the fork of the poor worm is not so sharp as it appears ; 
 nor do the chilly clods which so trouble you, press half so heavi- 
 ly on the breasts of those who rest in faith as they seem to you 
 to press. God is in the grave as well as on the earth. He 
 walks here as he did in the cool of the day in the garden he 
 first created ; he is as familiar with the chambers of death, as 
 with the palaces of the living ; all are in his hands." The re- 
 verie passed away. There is a sympathy between the living 
 and the dead, which, at times, more than all the reasoning in the 
 world, convinces us of the immortality of our souls. It is im- 
 possible, that an all wise and all powerful God should have 
 created this sympathy between kindred spirits, on this and the 
 other side of the grave, and yet mock us by destroying all these 
 "immortal longings within us," by annihilation. Who can 
 believe, that at the tomb, even the sceptic and the pretended infi- 
 del can question the doctrines of revelation ? I recovered from 
 this state of mind, in a degree, and left this silent colony of 
 death, to teach others as well as myself, who dare to read the 
 lectures of the grave, how short, how uncertain, is human life ; 
 what a vapor is mortal existence, and how easily it is blown 
 away. To leave the dead without a memorial, is want of affec- 
 tion ; not to read that memorial, as a memento mori, is stupidity ; 
 and to read it to no salutary purpose, is that blindness and folly 
 which lead down to the chambers of darkness and despair. 
 Every tomb stone has a tongue, which repeats in more than mor-' 
 tal accents to the living, the words of the shade of the prophet 
 to the monarch of Israel — " to-morrow thou shalt he with mc." 
 
 Elizabeth Gray, wife of a distinguished merchant, Wil- 
 liam Gray, was the daughter of John Chipman, a lawyer of 
 eminence, in Marblehead, in the county of Essex, and common- 
 wealth of Massachusetts. She was born in May, 1756, and was 
 married to William Gray, in 1782, then doing business in Salem, 
 in the same county. Mrs. Gray's father died suddenly, while 
 arguing a cause in court at Portland. She was a woman of fine 
 personal appearance, and had received a good solid education ; 
 and it. was. acknowledged on all hands, that she was a woman 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 235 
 
 of most excellent powers of understanding. She was a very- 
 domestic woman, and while her husband was considered the 
 wealthiest merchant in New England, she managed her house- 
 hold affairs with great economy and regularity. She was quiet- 
 ly and silently doing good to the poor, in the way which was 
 most agreeable to her disposition. She impressed upon her chil- 
 dren the habits and principles of economy, and never forgot 
 those principles in the possession of immense wealth. She was 
 for many years a member of Dr. Prince's church in Salem, but 
 when the family moved to Boston, she became attached to the 
 Rev. Mr. Wisner's church, where she was an exemplary mem- 
 ber. There was nothing gloomy in her religion, it was one of 
 cheerfulness and hope, among many who were severe and me- 
 lancholy. She divided her time between reading, household 
 affairs, and duties to society, in such a manner, as never for 
 a moment to be in a hurry. She had a fine constitution, and 
 seldom suffered much from indisposition. She reared five sons 
 and one daughter with exemplary maternal tenderness and con- 
 stancy. She died, after a few days illness, on the twenty-fourth 
 of September, 1823. Her husband was then living. The vir- 
 tues of Mrs. Gray, were known to all her friends, and she was 
 ) often consulted on important matters ; but the most remarkable 
 trait in her character, was, always acting in her important situ- 
 ation in such a way, that no evil precedents of expense could 
 arise from her example. Her carriage was plain, and her ser- 
 vants were well dressed, decent men, without any extraordinary 
 show about them. Her talents would have commanded respect 
 in the common walks of life, but of course, had a much wider 
 influence in the high sphere in which she moved. 
 
 Isabella Graham was born in Scotland, on the twenty- 
 ninth of July, 1742; her maiden name was Marshall. She 
 married Doctor John Graham, an army surgeon, in 1765, and 
 who came with his regiment to this country, previous to the re- 
 volutionary war, and from the continent went to Antigua, where 
 he died in 1774. His widow came to New York in 1789, about 
 the time the federal constitution went into operation. Here 
 
236 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 she opened a school for young ladies, and for a long time she 
 had hardly a rival in her profession. She was popular for her 
 intelligence and for her piety. She was an active, enterprising 
 woman, and successfally devised many liberal things; such 
 as a widows' society, an orphans' society, and a society for the 
 promotion of industry. She was a woman of a strong mind, 
 and had a clear view of religion and its utility, as it regarded 
 the society in which she was placed. The celebrated Doctor 
 Mason published a memoir of her life ; for he considered her a 
 mother in Israel, who had lived to a good old age, and was 
 blessed to the third and fourth generation in her life time. Such 
 founders and patrons of benevolent institutions deserve to be 
 held in remembrance, not for themselves alone, but for the exam- 
 ples they afford to society. The account of her moral and reli- 
 gious discipline will have an effect on oui community for ages to 
 come ; and thousands, from the associations which she founded, 
 will call her blessed in all future times. The only way mortals 
 can make themselves immortal, is by doing some permanent 
 good to mankind. The splendid things of the day have only 
 the perfume of an hour, and even the monuments of art in time 
 decay, but such charities stay long to bless us, and when by some 
 chance they are no longer useful, their very name and praise 
 reproduce their kind. The praise of " The Man of Ross," has 
 stimulated thousands to deeds of charity, and will, as long as 
 poetry has a place in the minds of men. A habit may have its 
 influence, but a deed is never forgotten. We see our institu- 
 tions of benevolence flourishing around us, Avithout reflecting 
 how much expenditure of good feeling and charitable means 
 they have cost. Political and civil institutions are the growth 
 of time and necessity ; while those of philanthropy are matters 
 of more than ordinary exertions of individuals. Heaven has 
 wisely planted a disposition in the human mind to regard the 
 interests of those who may come after us, as well as to reverence 
 those who have preceeded us. The descendants of Mrs. Graham 
 are among the most respectable people of the state. The man- 
 tle of Mrs. Graham has fallen on her daughter, Mrs. Bethune, 
 who has worn it with the same active .spirit, the same untiring 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 237 
 
 sense of duty, and the same pure religious feeling. She has heen 
 as much known as her mother, and may she find among her 
 friends, when she shall be no more, as splendid and zealous a 
 eulogist, as good Mrs. Graham did, in the learned and impas- 
 sioned Mason. I should have been more minute in the sketch 
 of this character, had I not known that many have written her 
 life, and spread it far, and almost, I might say, throughout Chris- 
 tendom. 
 
 Grace Gethin, an English lady of excellent talents, was the 
 daughter of Sir George Norton, of Abbots- Leigh, in Somerset- 
 shire, and born in 1676. She had all the advantages of a liberal 
 education, and became the wife of Sir Richard Gethin, of Gethin- 
 Grott, in Ireland, She was mistress of great accomplishments, 
 natural and acquired, but did not live long enough to display 
 them to the world, for she died in her twenty-first year, October 
 11th, 1697. She was not buried in Westminster- Abbey, but a 
 beautiful monument was erected to her memory in that cemetery 
 of the mighty dead, with an elegant inscription commemorating 
 her virtues and talents. Provision was made for a sermon to 
 be preached in the Abbey yearly, on Ash- Wednesday forever. 
 The remains of her literary labors were collected and printed. 
 She was meek, candid, pious, and lovely. Some of the sermons 
 on her memory contain some excellent observations on the 
 female character, as well as encomiums on herself 
 
 Eleanora Galligai, the wife of Concini, Marshal d'Ancre, 
 was daughter of a joiner and washer- woman, in Italy. She was 
 foster sister to Mary of Medicis, who loved her, and to this was 
 owing her greatness and misfortunes. She came to France, and 
 although her features were plain, and even disgusting, she mar- 
 ried Concini, but did not show that moderation which her great 
 powers of mind seemed to promise. Haughty and imperious, 
 her conduct soon gave offence to Louis XIII., the son of her 
 partial mistress, who caused her husband to be assassinated, and 
 herself to be brought to trial, though no crime but that of being 
 a favorite could be brought against her. She was charged with 
 
238 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 sorcery ; and when questioned by what magic she had so fas- 
 cinated her mistress, she made this well known answer, " By 
 that power which strong minds naturally possess over the weak." 
 She was condemned in 1617, and executed. 
 
 Lady Jane Gray, eldest daughter of Henry Gray, marquis 
 of Dorset, and duke of Suffolk, was not more distinguished for 
 her illustrious descent, than for her endowments, her virtues, 
 and unhappy destiny. On the side of her mother she was allied 
 to the royal house of Tudor. 
 
 Jane, lovely in her person, gentle, modest, and amiable in her 
 temper, endowed with a superior capacity, and powers of appli- 
 cation uncommon for her sex and age, was educated with the 
 young king, Edward VI., whom she emulated, and even sur- 
 passed, in every liberal attainment. She had at a very early 
 age applied herself to the acquisition of the Greek, the Roman, 
 the Arabic, the Chaldee, with the French and Italian languages, 
 and was conversant both with ancient and modern literature. 
 She devoted herself more peculiarly to the study of philosophy, 
 of which she became enamored ; nor was she unacquainted 
 with the sciences and arts. She wrote a fine hand, was mis- 
 tress of music, and excelled in the customary avocations of her 
 sex. The theological controversies of the times also, peculiarly 
 engaged her attention. She possessed great sensibility of temper, 
 with a devotional turn of mind, and had, on investigation, 
 imbibed the principles of the reformation. 
 
 The predilection of the lady Jane for learning and philosophy, 
 is attested by Roger Ascham, tutor to the princess Elizabeth, 
 who, calling at Brodegate, in Leicestershire, previous to his 
 quitting England, to take leave of the family of the duke of 
 Suffolk, found Jane, while her parents with their household 
 were hunting in the park, deeply engaged in the perusal of 
 Plato's " Phaedon," in which she appeared to take peculiar delight. 
 Mr. Ascham inquired why she lost, in studies so grave, the 
 pastime going forward in the park. She answered, smilingly, 
 because she found in reading Plato a pleasure of more exquisite 
 nature than hunting could have afforded to her. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 239 
 
 Her talents and sweetness of manners endeared her to the 
 young king, and induced him to yield with the greater facility 
 to the projects of her father, and of the duke of Northumber- 
 land, whose fourth son, Lord Guilford Dudley, espoused the 
 Lady Jane in May, 1553, two months previous to the decease of 
 Edward. Northumberland represented to the young monarch, 
 who, weakened by the infirm state of his health, was susceptible 
 to every impression, that his sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, had 
 both been declared illegitimate by parliament, and that though 
 Henry by his will had restored them to the succession, their 
 birth yet rendered them obnoxious to the people ; that they were 
 but his half sisters, and, even if legitimate, could not possess the 
 crown as his heirs. He added, that the queen of Scots was 
 excluded by the will of the late king, that she was also an alien 
 by law, not to mention that being betrothed to the dauphin of 
 France, the kingdom would, by her succession, become a French 
 province. That the abolition of the protestant religion, to which 
 Edward was zealously attached, the repeal of the laws in its 
 favor, and the re-establishment of the Roman superstition, would 
 necessarily follow either the reign of the queen of Scots, or of 
 the princess Mary his sister; that both justice and interest re- 
 quired their exclusion, in which case, the succession devolved 
 on the duchess of Suffolk, whose heir, the lady Jane, was fitted 
 to adorn a throne, and to establish the happiness of the nation. 
 
 These reasonings, could not fail to move a young prince in 
 the situation of Edward, whose predilection for the protestants, 
 made him tremble at the idea of devolving the crown to Mary, 
 a bigoted catholic ; while his tend-"" affection for Elizabeth yield- 
 ed to the persuasion, that to exc\uae one sister and admit the 
 claims of another, would be considered as unkind and unjust. 
 
 Edward, having given his consent to the projected settlement, 
 it was in vain that the chief justice, the judges, and the great 
 officers started difficulties and multiplied objections ; threats, 
 persuasions, and intrigues, overruled their resistance. Mary and 
 Elizabeth being thus set aside, the crown was settled on the 
 heirs of the duchess of Suffolk, who was content to resign her 
 rights in favor of her daughter. On the sixth of July, 1553, 
 
240 ' FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Edward expired at Greenwich, in the sixteenth year of his age, 
 and seventh of his reign. 
 
 Jane, humble and unambitious, absorbedln her studies, her 
 mind devoted to elegant literature, and her heart full of tender- 
 ness toward her husband, whose merit justified her affection, 
 received from her father in law the tidings of her advancement 
 with equal astonishment, terror, and grief Rejecting the splen- 
 did destiny which courted her acceptance, she pleaded the pre- 
 ferable right of the princesses, while she declared that her prin- 
 ciples would not suffer her to avail herself of the honors prof- 
 fered to her. Having reminded her friends of the danger of 
 public eminence, and the instability of human affairs, she con- 
 cluded with an earnest expression of her preference to the safety 
 and freedom of a private station. But vain was her opposition 
 to the ambition of the duchess. Her mother, her husband, whose 
 persuasions the sensibility of her heart rendered too efficacious, 
 joined to importune her ; overpowered by their solicitude, and 
 their united influence and authority, which she had been unac- 
 customed to resist, she at length yielded a reluctant consent, 
 and sacrificed to her family her inclinations and her judgment. 
 
 Jane having been conveyed by Northumberland to the tower, 
 where it was customary for the sovereigns of England to pass 
 the first days of their accession, orders were given to the coun- 
 cil to proclaim throughout the kingdom the daughter of the 
 duchess of Suffolk. These commands were, however, executed 
 but in London and its environs, where the proclamation was re- 
 ceived with coldness, silence, and concern, and even in some 
 instances with contempt and scorn. The protestant preachers 
 exerted without success their eloquence in favor of the young 
 queen ; no effect was produced on the audience. The people, 
 prejudiced in favor of hereditary succession, flocked to Mary, 
 the rightful heir, who, by courteous assurance and fair promises, 
 allayed their apprehension for the protestants religion. 
 
 Northumberland, perceiving his army too weak to encounter 
 that of Mary, importuned the council for a reinforcement ; who, 
 availing themselves of the pretence, left the tower, as if to 
 execute his demands. Having deliberated on the paths they 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 241 
 
 should pursue, they quickly persuaded themselves, that one me- 
 thod only remained for atoning for the conduct into which they 
 had been betrayed, a prompt return to the rightful heir. The 
 people expressed their approbation by shouts of applause ; even 
 Suffolk, who commanded in the tower, finding resistance vain, 
 opened the gates, and declared for Mary. Jane resigned with 
 cheerfulness the pageantry with which she had been invested, 
 declaring at the same time, that she returned to a private station 
 with far greater pleasure than she had quitted it ; she was con- 
 vinced, she added, that she had been guilty of a fault in resign- 
 ing her principles to authority, but that, in her present resigna- 
 tion, her inclinations and judgment perfectly accorded. 
 
 Northumberland, deserted by his followers, and despairing of 
 success, joined in the general voice in favor of Mary, with those 
 external marks of satisfaction, which courtiers, when their inter- 
 ests are at stake, so well know how to assume. His duplicity, 
 however, availed him little, he was taken into custody by orders 
 from the queen ; when, not less abject in distress than arrogant 
 in prosperity, he fell on his knees, and supplicated for his life. 
 He was afterwards executed, and on the scaffold, professed the 
 catholic religion. His sons, and several other noblemen, were 
 also seized, and secured ; Avhile the duke of SufTolk, his daugh- 
 ter, the Lady Jane, with her husband Lord Guilford Dudley, 
 were, as prisoners, committed to the tower. 
 
 Though sentence had been passed against the La:dy Jane and 
 Lord Guilford, who had neither attained their seventeenth year, 
 no intention appeared of putting it in execution, so powerfully 
 did their youth plead in their behalf But the imprudence of 
 Suffolk, not long after, precipitated theirs and his own fate. A 
 rebellion, originating in the religious discontents of the nation, 
 who were exposed to persecution from the bigotry of the queen, 
 having broken out, headed by Sir Thomas Wyatt, Suffolk with 
 a view of recovering the crown for his family, joined the insur- 
 gents. His guilt and ingratitude were imputed to his children, 
 whom the queen, with a narrow mind, incapable of distinguish- 
 ing, or of real generosity, determined to sacrifice to her ven-* 
 
 geance and her fears. 
 
 21 
 
242 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Warning was accordingly given to the Lady Jane to prepare 
 for death ; a doom, which the innocence of her life, and the 
 misfortunes to which it was exposed, rendered but little formida- 
 ble to her pious and reflecting mind. The queen, under an ab- 
 surd pretence of care for the salvation of her victims, harrassed 
 the remnant of their lives, with tiresome disputations. Priests, 
 the most celebrated for their learning and acuteness, were com- 
 missioned to exhort the Lady Jane to a change in her faith. 
 For this important purpose, even three days reprieve were gra- 
 ciously allowed. Neither arguments, flatteries, threats, nor pro- 
 mises, were spared to shake the firmness of the youthful heroine, 
 whose courage baffled the attacks of persecutors. Having de- 
 fended her opinions with ability and resolution, she addressed a 
 letter to her sister, in the Greek language, accompanied by a 
 copy of the scriptures, and an exhortation to maintain, in every 
 trial, that fortitude and perseverance of which she trusted to 
 give her the example. In the bloom and spring of life, she con- 
 templated the approach of death with a true philosophical 
 equanimity. 
 
 Her execution was announced to her by Feckenham, the 
 queen's chaplain, who was commissioned to offer to her at the 
 same time, a reconciliation with the church of Rome. To the 
 first part of his mission she listened without emotion, in reply 
 to the latter, she told him she had no leisure for further contro- 
 versy, but should devote the short remainder of her time to a 
 preparation for her fate. On being informed by him, that three 
 days respite had been granted to her, for the purpose of endeav- 
 oring to procure her conversion, she answered, "that her 
 meaning had been misunderstood, that she desired not her life 
 to be protracted, neither had she wished the queen to be solicited 
 for such a purpose." The chaplain proceeding to press her on 
 religious difference, she discussed with him her objections to 
 the doctrine and authority of the Romish church. The part 
 which Jane sustained in this conference is highly commended 
 by Bishop Burnet, and other ecclesiastical historians. 
 
 She wrote several letters during her captivity, among which, 
 was one more particularly mentioned by historians, addressed 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 243 
 
 to Doctor Hardington her father's chaplain, who had apostatized 
 from his religion; and whom she exhorted, in an earnest and 
 pathetic strain, citing from the scriptures and from church his- 
 tory, many passages in support of her purpose, to prefer his 
 conscience to his safety. Bishop Burnet mentions having in 
 his possession two Latin letters of the Lady Jane, written in a 
 chaste and simple style, and addressed to BuUinger, with whom 
 she was entering on the study of the Hebrew^ and for whom, in 
 a strain of modesty and piety, she expresses great respect and 
 deference. These letters, with two other Latin epistles, were 
 printed ; one of them is addressed to Bullinger, the other to her 
 sister, the Lady Katherine Gray ; they abound in pious exhor- 
 tations and affectionate expressions, and were written the night 
 before her execution, on some blank leaves of her Greek testa- 
 ment, which she had been previously perusing. She also com- 
 posed for her own use a long prayer, full of ardent expressions 
 of devotion. 
 
 The evening before her death, she was again persecuted by 
 bishops and priests, with arguments and persuasions to die in 
 obedience to the true church ; but finding all their importuni- 
 ties fruitless, they at length quitted her, as a lost and forsaken 
 member. 
 
 Her husband, on the day of their execution, entreated to be 
 allowed a last interview with his wife ; this she declined, alledg- 
 ing as her motive, that the tenderness of their parting would 
 overcome the fortitude of both, and incapacitate their minds for 
 the constancy and courage demanded by their approaching fate. 
 Their separation, she added, was but for a moment, when they 
 should re-unite never more to part, in scenes where neither dis- 
 appointment, misfortune, nor death would disturb their felicity. 
 It had been intended to execute them both on the same scaffold, 
 but the council were justly apprehensive of the impression 
 which this spectacle might make on the people; the youth, 
 the beauty, the birth, the innocence of the victims, could not fail 
 of moving every heart. Jane was therefore ordered to be be- 
 headed within the Tower, and Lord Guilford on the hill. 
 
 Jane beheld from her window her husband led to execution ; 
 
244 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 when, having given him some token of her remembrance, she 
 awaited her own fate with tranquil firmness. On her way to 
 the scaffold she was met by the lifeless body of Lord Guilford ; 
 this affecting spectacle forced from her some tears, which the 
 report of his constancy and courage quickly dried, while it in- 
 spired her with new fortitude. She attested at the scaffold her 
 innocence of intentional wrong, but without breathing the sha- 
 dow of a complaint against the severity by which she suffered. 
 Her crime, she said, had not been ambition, but the want of con- 
 stancy to resist with sufficient firmness the instances of those 
 whom she had been accustomed to revere and obey. She de- 
 clared, that she submitted cheerfully to death, as the only repa- 
 ration in her power to make to the injured laws. That if hei 
 infringement of those laws had been constrained, her voluntary 
 submission to their sentence, would, she hoped, be accepted as 
 an atonement for the error into which filial piety only could 
 have betrayed her. As the instrument of the ambitious pro- 
 jects of others, she confessed her punishment to be just ; and 
 trusted that her history would prove useful in demonstrating to 
 all, that personal innocence is no excuse for actions which tend 
 to the disturbance of the community. She concluded her re- 
 marks by a solid profession of her faith, and devoutly repeated 
 a psalm in English. 
 
 Rejecting the proffered assistance of the executioner, she 
 caused herself to be disrobed by her women. The executioner, 
 kneeling, implored her forgiveness, which she readily accorded 
 to him, adding, " I pray you dispatch me quickly." Then kneel- 
 ing, and saying, " Lord into thy hands I commit my spirit !" she 
 meekly submitted to her fate. This tragedy took place on the 
 twelfth of February, 1554, when the admirable and heroic 
 victim had scarcely completed her seventeenth year. 
 
 She is described by Doctor Fuller as possessing the innocence 
 of childhood, the beauty of youth, the solidity of maturity, and 
 the gravity of age. Her birth was that of a princess ; and with 
 the learning of a scholar she led the life of a saint ; and yet, for 
 the offences of others, she was constrained to sufTer the death 
 of a malefactor. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 245 
 
 Her father, the duke of Suffolk, paid the forfeit of his crimes. 
 He was, soon after the death of his daughter, tried, condemned, 
 and executed. 
 
 On the walls of the room on which the lady Jane was im- 
 prisoned in the Tower, she wrote with a pin the following lines : 
 
 "Think not, O mortal, vainly gay, 
 That thou from human woes art free ; 
 
 The bitter cup I drink to day, 
 To-morrow may be drunk by thee. 
 
 " Harmless all malice if our God is nigh ; 
 
 Fruitless all pains, if he his help deny. 
 Patient I pass these gloomy hours away, 
 
 And wait the morning of eternal day." 
 
 Galeria, wife of Vitellius, emperor of Rome, distinguished 
 herself in a vicious age, by exemplary wisdom and modesty. 
 After the tragical death of her husband she passed her days in 
 raourninsf and retirement. 
 
 Catherine Macaulay Graham. This lady, who, by her 
 writings, and the powers of her mind, has reflected so much 
 credit on her sex and country, was bom in the year 1733, at 
 her father's seat at OUantigh, near Ashford, on Kent. Her 
 mother died while she was an infant, and her father, Mr. Saw- 
 bridge, so severely felt the loss, that he almost secluded himself 
 from society, though possessed of a fortune of 3000/. a year. He 
 paid no attention to the education of his two daughters, who 
 were left at the family seat, at Ollantigh, to the charge of an 
 antiquated, well recommended, but ignorant governess, ill quali- 
 fied for the task she undertook. 
 
 Under the superintendence of this woman, they grew together, 
 while their minds and characters, as directed by other circum- 
 stances, took a different turn. The eldest daughter, whose 
 temper was placid and amiable, derived amusement from her 
 baby hours, and from the customary avocations of her sex and 
 age. The younger, Catherine, found nothing to interest her 
 
 21* 
 
246 FEMALE BIOGKAPHY. 
 
 attention in her sister's pursuits ; active and curious, she thirsted 
 for knowledge, and her dolls could give her no information. 
 The books which were put into her hands entertained her for 
 a time, while they interested her imagination, and gratified her 
 taste for novelty ; but at length she became satiated with fairy 
 tales and romances, which afforded not aliment sufficiently sub- 
 stantial to satisfy the cravings of her inquiring mind. Having 
 found her way into her father's well furnished library, she 
 became her own purveyor, and rioted in intellectual luxury. 
 Every hour in the day, which no longer hung heavy on her 
 hands, was now occupied and improved. She first made choice 
 of the periodical writers, the Spectator, Guardian, &c., who, in 
 treating of morals and manners, led her to reflection, while they 
 opened and strengthened her mind. As she advanced in age, 
 her studies took a wider range ; she grew attached to history, 
 and dwelt with delight and ardor on the annals of the Greek 
 and Roman republics. Their laws and manners interested her 
 understanding, the spirit of patriotism seized her, and she became 
 an enthusiast in the cause of freedom. The heroic charactei 
 and actions with which the period of history is intermingled 
 and enlivened, seldom fail to captivate the affection of a youthful 
 and uncorrupted heart. All other books were thrown aside, 
 history became her darling passion, and liberty the idol of her 
 imagination. Rollin's Ancient History, and his account of the 
 Roman republic, first lighted up that spark in her mind, which 
 afterwards blazed with so much fervor and splendor, and which 
 gave the tone to her sentiments and character through the sub- 
 sequent periods of her life. From the world of frivolity, flattery, 
 and dissipation, she shrunk back to a more improving world of 
 her own. In the course of her historical studies, the pictures 
 of vice and turpitude, w^hich occasionally presented themselves, 
 while they roused her indignation, excited the astonishment of 
 her inexperienced heart, the feelings of which were called forth, 
 exercised, and exalted. The history of the despotism and 
 tyranny of a few individuals, and the slavish subjection of un- 
 counted millions, their passive acquiescence, their suflferings, and 
 their wrongs, appeared to her a moral problem, which she had 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 247 
 
 no instruments to solve. She had yet to learn the force of pre- 
 scription, of habit, and of association, the imitative and progres- 
 sive nature of the human mind, and the complicated springs by 
 which it is set in motion. She deeply reflected on the subject of 
 government, with its influence on the happiness and virtue of 
 mankind ; she became anxious that the distance should be di- 
 minished that separates man from man ; and to see extended 
 over the whole human race those enlightened sentiments, equal 
 laws, and equitable decisions, that might restore to its due pro- 
 portion a balance so ill adjusted, and combine with the refine- 
 ment of a more advanced age the simplicity and virtue of the 
 earlier periods. Fraught with these ideas, and with a heart 
 glowing with good will towards her species, she took up her 
 pen, and gave to the most interesting portion of the history of 
 her country a new spirit and interest. 
 
 In her friendships, Mrs. Macaulay was fervent, disinterested, 
 and sincere ; zealous for the prosperity, and for the moral im- 
 provement of those whom she distinguished and loved. She was 
 earnest, constant, and eloquent in her efTorts for rectifying the 
 principles, and enlarging the minds, of her friends and connec- 
 tions. It was her favorite maxim that universal benevolence, 
 and a liberal way of thinking, were not only essential to the 
 freedom and welfare of society, but to individual virtue, enjoy- 
 ment and happiness. There was no arrogance in her exhorta- 
 tions and counsels ; her accents were not less mild and persua- 
 sive, than her reason was energetic and forcible. 
 
 Towards the latter end of the year 1777, she was ordered by 
 her physicians to the south of France, for the benefit of her 
 health. A low nervous fever, to which she was subject, had 
 debilitated her frame, without deducting either from the force or 
 activity of her mind. Nothing, during this excursion, escaped 
 her observation, her conversation and remarks were at once 
 acute and profound. During the six weeks that she remained 
 at Paris, her apartments were crowded with visitors. Among 
 the Americans, who were at that time numerous at Paris, those 
 who w^ere eminent for their learning or talents seized every 
 opportunity of observing the fair historian, and mingling in 
 
248 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the societies she was accustomed to frequent. Apprehensive, 
 from these circumstances, that her conduct might be miscon- 
 strued, she concluded to bid adieu to the hospitable societies at 
 Paris, and return once more to her native land. In a letter to 
 Doctor Franklin, who was then at Paris, before her departure, 
 she informed him of the motives by which she had been induced to 
 wave the satisfaction of seeing him and his American friends at 
 her hotel. The circumstances of the times, and her known repub- 
 lican principles, rendered her liable to suspicions ; and the sus- 
 pension of the habeas corpus act in England to consequences, 
 whi»h, in the delicate state of her health, could not but prove 
 fatal. " The whole tenor of my conduct must have convinced 
 you, sir," says she, towards the conclusion of her letter, " that I 
 should with pleasure sacrifice my life, could it have been of any 
 real service to the cause of public freedom. I am now nursing 
 my constitution, to enable me to treat at large, in the history in 
 which I am engaged, on our fatal civil war. I am, sir, with 
 profound respect for your great qualities, as a statesman, patriot, 
 and philosopher, yours, &c. &c." 
 
 Having been personally acquainted with the greater number 
 of the celebrated Americans who visited England, and in the 
 habit of corresponding with those who had distinguished them- 
 selves on the other side of the Atlantic, Mrs. Macauley was very 
 desirous of making a visit to the transatlantic republic ; a de- 
 sign which she executed in 1785. She visited nine of the 
 thirteen United States, where she was received with kindness 
 and hospitality. She terminated her journey to the south by 
 paying her respects "to General Washington, at his seat at Mount 
 Vernon. Under the roof of this illustrious man she remained 
 three weeks, and continued to correspond with him during the 
 remainder of her life. 
 
 It seemed to have been her intention, after her return to Eng- 
 land, to have composed a history of the American contest ; for 
 which purpose she had been furnished by General Washington 
 with many materials, but the infirm state of her health prevented 
 her. She resided, during the greater part of the remainder of 
 her life, at Binfield in Berkshire, where, after a tedious illness, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 249 
 
 attended by much suffering, which she supported with exemplary- 
 patience and fortitude, she expired, June 22d, 1791, 
 
 She was twice married ; the first time to Doctor George Ma- 
 caulay, a physician of some eminence in London ; and, after his 
 death, to Mr. William Graham, who had also been educated to 
 the profession of physic, but who afterwards entered into the 
 church. 
 
 Mary Jane Grosvenor, was the only daughter of the late 
 Alexander C. Hanson, Esq., chancellor of Maryland. During 
 her very infancy, he began to form her mind on the purest model, 
 to enrich it with various literature, and to plant deeply and dura- 
 bly therein the seeds of virtue and morality. In this endearing 
 work, he was powerfully assisted by her mother, a woman of 
 rare excellence. To those who knew the late chancellor and 
 his lady, his diversified talents and excellent principles, her 
 virtuous mind, and sound judgment, it is not necessary to say, 
 that a mind like that of Mrs. Grosvenor, docile, brilliant, and 
 strong, under their skillful culture, was reared rapidly to matu- 
 rity. And happy for her was this early and rapid progress in 
 every mental endowment, for at the age of fifteen began the real 
 sorrows of life ; she lost her father. In the ensuing year her 
 mother, on whom now rested all her remaining hopes of earthly 
 happiness, broken hearted, followed her husband to the tomb. 
 
 Of the state of Mrs. Grosvenor' s mind, up to this period, of 
 her views of religion, of her particular studies, and indeed, of 
 her general pursuits, little is known. Certainly, she had read 
 extensively and advantageously, and under the direction of her 
 father, had attempted branches of literature not frequently culti- 
 vated or deemed appropriate to her sex. Certainly her life must 
 have been correct, and her disposition affectionate, for she was 
 esteemed and loved until her death, by the friends of her early 
 years. 
 
 Now at the age of sixteen, she was left in the city of Balti- 
 more, a new and strange abode, without friends or guides of her 
 own sex, without property, without even common acquaintance, 
 a young, refined, and artless girl, to the sole care of her two 
 
250 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 brothers. Neither of them had attained the age of twenty-one 
 years. Baltimore was the focus of pleasure and of fashion. 
 They were young and gay, engaged in the bustle of life, 
 fond of its pleasures, immersed in its business, and intent on 
 building up their own fortunes, which they were left to per- 
 form with their own hands; however kindly disposed, and 
 most kindly disposed they were, however affectionately they 
 loved her, and most affectionately they did love her, and how- 
 ever willing to cherish and console her, it cannot be conceived 
 that thus situated, and engaged in such constant scenes, they 
 could become either judicious counsellors, or appropriate guides 
 to her young mind, through the mazes of this wicked world. 
 For a long time she had few, if any female associates of her 
 own age, with whom her soul could hold friendly communion. 
 Perhaps it was fortunate for her that she was doomed for a sea- 
 son to solitary affliction. Perhaps it was the kindness of her 
 God, which compelled her thus early to serious reflection, to re- 
 sort to her own mind for support ; to fly to Him for succor and 
 consolation. We may indulge the belief, that in this solitary 
 and sorrowful period, were sown those seeds of grace, which 
 though buried for a season, sprouted forth, and in after years 
 flourished like the green bay tree, and finally produced the 
 richest fruits of humanity, charity, and vital piety. 
 
 The tenor of her life for the five or six succeeding years, is 
 not particularly known. She certainly was disposed to solemn 
 contemplation ; she was constant in the public worship of God, 
 according to the forms of the church to which she belonged. 
 She continued to reside with the one or the other of her brothers 
 in Baltimore. At length she mingled in the society of her sex, 
 and no doubt was immersed in those pleasures which eminently 
 pertains to that society in the place of her residence. 
 
 At the age of twenty-two, her mind became more seriously 
 impressed by the great truths of religion, and she began so- 
 lemnly to enquire, what she should do to be saved. This change 
 was not evidenced by any particularly grave deportment ; nor by 
 any apparent gloom or despondency; nor by abandoning the 
 cheerful pleasures of society; nor yet by withdrawing from 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 251 
 
 those public amusements, which are thought by the world to be 
 appropriate to her age and sex ; but her leisure hours were de- 
 voted to serious studies. From her infancy, she had never failed 
 to approach the throne of grace, both morning and evening. But 
 now, she wrestled with her God more earnestly ; explored the 
 original corruptions of her own heart more vigilantly, searched 
 the book of life more frequently, and became daily more impor- 
 tunate with her God, to guide her steps in the right way. 
 
 In March, 1816, she was married to the Honorable Thomas 
 P. Grosvenor, a distinguished representative in congress, from 
 the state of New York. She was a wife but nine months, five 
 of which were passed in sickness and in suffering. 
 
 In June, she was affected by a severe cold, accompanied by 
 coughing, wandering pains, and the expectoration of a very 
 little blood. In July, an haemoptysis ensued, and she discharged 
 from her lungs a large quantity of blood. A bilious fever suc- 
 ceeded, which for twenty-one days raged with a fury beyond the 
 control of medicine. At length it subsided, and her disorder 
 assumed the defined shape of a consumption. From the first, 
 she had been unable to stand or move from her bed, but in the 
 arms of another. For five months, pains the most acute and 
 tormenting, were her constant attendants. At length, her life, 
 after quivering long in the socket, was suddenly extinguished ; 
 and that soul, which had been long familiaf with death, and had 
 long rested on faith, took its flight from a world of suffering, to 
 mingle with congenial spirits in the New Jerusalem above. By 
 frequent conversations on her death bed, she taught, as from the 
 grave, the great lesson, that all reliance for salvation, is in the 
 rich, unmerited mercy of the Redeemer. 
 
 She lived and died a member of the protestant episcopal 
 church, under the guidance and sanction of the Right Reverend 
 Bishop Kemp, of Baltimore. She seized the last moment allow- 
 ed her, and with a look and tone, which evinced hope, confidence, 
 and holy triumph, which proved that her earnest prayers for 
 support in her dying hours, were heard and answered, she ex- 
 claimed, " God bless you all. Give him thanks that he has 
 enabled me to set you this example." 
 
252 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 These were her last words. Not one struggle, scarcely one 
 convulsive spasm was visible. A smile of triumph lingered on 
 her face. It was the beam of a sun that had set. The saint 
 had entered into rest. 
 
 Such was the end of this young and lovely woman. It was a 
 happy and glorious death. It was a triumphant appeal to all, 
 whether our blessed faith brings not comfort unspeakable ; but 
 how strong, how suitable, how glorious its consolations are, no 
 one can ever know, until, like her, he is bereft of all others, 
 and, like her, finds them sufficient, when all others fail. 
 
 Many were the wretches, steeped in poverty and in suffering, 
 who invoked the blessings of heaven upon her small, but kind 
 and discriminating charities ; not for her charities only, but for 
 her frequent visits to their desolate abodes, for the timely assist- 
 ance which her own hand had rendered, and the religious 
 consolations which her soothing admonitions have administered. 
 How many pillows of sickness and agony has her own hand 
 smoothed ? Over how many beds of death has she watched, 
 relieving sorrow by her sympathy, alluring to heaven by her 
 persuasions, assuaging even the agonies of death by her kind- 
 ness and consolation ? 
 
 " Playful and artless, on the summer wave 
 Sporting with buoyant wing, the fairy scene 
 With faire* grace adorning ; but in woe. 
 In poverty, in soul subduing griefs. 
 In patient tending on the sick man's bed, 
 In ministerings of love, in bitterest pangs 
 Faithful and firm ; in scenes where former hearts 
 Have cracked, still cheerful, and still kind." 
 
 Susan Huntington, the wife of Joshua Huntington, a dis- 
 tinguished clergyman in Boston, was the daughter of Achilles 
 Mansfield, a clergyman of Killingworth, Connecticut ; she was 
 born January 27th 1791. She was a descendant, on the maternal 
 side from the "-Indian Apostle" John Eliot.. Jared Eliot, her 
 maternal grandfather, was grandson of the great translator of 
 the bible into the Indian language. Jared Eliot was a man of 
 talents and acquirements, as in fact, have been his descendants. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 253 
 
 He introduced the white mulherry into Connecticut, and made 
 some successful attempts to cultivate the silkworm for the pur- 
 pose of making- silk, but although Franklin approved of his 
 exertions, his neighbors did not believe that this could be done 
 to advantage, and his efforts were not followed up. His 
 knowledge of botany, of agriculture and manufactures was in 
 advance of his age. He was also a chemist and good physician, 
 and had a high reputation for his treatment of maniacal patients. 
 In this he anticipated the great improvement of modern times, 
 in using a moral as well as medical treatment. He preached 
 for forty years on Sunday without omitting a single day. He 
 had " a sane mind in sound body" and must also have been 
 favored by heaven to have done this. Mr. Eliot was twenty-one 
 years older than Franklin, but he used to say, when the philoso- 
 pher had spent a night with him, as it is said he frequently did : 
 "I have had in my house the oldest man in America." The 
 agricultural essays from his pen may be read with profit at this 
 day, although they were written more than three quarters of a 
 century ago. 
 
 Miss Mansfield was married to Joshua Huntington in 1 809, 
 He died in 1819. She survived him four years. She was an 
 excellent woman, of highly cultivated mind, and gentle and 
 amiable manners. She wrote several tracts of merit, and was 
 capable of higher efforts ; an anecdote will show her disposition. 
 While a widow she was robbed by a female of several valuable 
 articles of jewelry. This was made known to the oflicers, and 
 the thief and the articles were found. She was called on in the 
 municipal court to identify them. This was readily done. She 
 was asked their value, but at once saw the bearing of the ques- 
 tion and seemed reluctant to answer ; and for a moment evaded 
 it by saying that she was not a good judge of jewelry, as she 
 never used much of it. A person was called to give a value of 
 the articles. She requested him to consider that they were old 
 fashioned, had been worn many years ago, and showed no little 
 address to get them apprized at a low rate. Satisfied with this 
 result, she suggested to the judge that she was perhaps inno- 
 cently the cause of the crime, for she had taken these things 
 
 22 
 
254 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 from a trunk where they had long been unseen, and by accident 
 left them on the table, thus throwing temptations before the poor 
 ignorant girl. She modestly and sweetly said that she did not 
 wish to interfere with the duties of a judge, but as far as her feel- 
 ings could be indulged, she wished for the least posssible punish- 
 ment for the unfortunate girl. She hoped and wished that she 
 would repent, and stepped from the stand with a tear trembling 
 in her eye. The judge was sensibly affected, and mentioned 
 Mrs. Huntington's charitable feelings in his sentence of the cul- 
 prit, and told her that the good woman she had been so base as 
 to steal from, had saved her from severe punishment. 
 
 Mrs. Huntington died on the fourth of December, 1 823, much 
 lamented. Her memoirs have been written by the Rev. B. B. 
 Wisner, the successor of her husband at the old south meeting 
 house, in the city of Boston, and published, with her letters, 
 a journal, and some fragments of poetry. This work was very 
 acceptable to the public in this country, and was held in great 
 estimation abroad. In Scotland the volume passed through five 
 editions in a short time. It was accompanied by an essay and 
 poem written by James Montgomery the poet. This was a 
 high, but deserved tribute of respect from one great and good 
 mind to another, whose persons oceans divided, but whose 
 minds were in unison upon the great truths of religion. Hun- 
 dreds of works have been republished in this country, written in 
 other countries, not half so worthy of diffusion as the mental 
 labors of Mrs. Huntington. And we are happy to find that a 
 few of our own books are noticed beyond the waters. When 
 religion, liberty, and letters are properly regarded, and assume 
 their legitimate rank, there will be no boundary lines formed by 
 prejudice, or kept up by political reasons, for the offspring of 
 mind. 
 
 Hypatia, a learned and beautiful lady, the daughter of 
 Theon, a celebrated philosopher and mathematician, and presi- 
 dent of the Alexandrian school, was born at Alexandria, about 
 the end of the fourth century. Her father, encouraged by her 
 extraordinary genius, had her not only educated in all the ordi- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 25t 
 
 nary qualifications of her sex, but instructed her in the most 
 abstruse sciences. She made great progress in philosophy, geom- 
 etry, astronomy, and the mathematics, so that she was esteemed 
 the most learned person of her time. At length she was thought 
 worthy to succeed her father in that distinguished and important 
 employment, the government of the school of Alexandria, and 
 to teach out of that chair, where Ammonius, Herocles, and 
 many other great men had taught before ; and this at a time 
 when men of learning abounded in Alexandria, and in many 
 other parts of the Roman empire. Her fame was so extensive, 
 that she had a very crowded auditory. But, while Hypatia 
 reigned the brightest ornament of Alexandria, a kind of civil 
 war, which broke out between Orestes the governor, and Cyril 
 the patriarch, proved fatal to this lady. In 415, about five hun- 
 dred monks attacked the governor, dragged Hypatia from the 
 chair, tore her to pieces, and burned her limbs. 
 
 Ann Hutchinson. It often happens, that persons live in 
 an age too early to have their merits duly estimated. This was 
 the case of Galileo and others, who have done much for man- 
 kind. It often takes whole ages to set history right upon mat* 
 ters of fact and opinion. No person, in our annals, has suffered 
 more obloquy without cause, than Mrs. Hutchinson. She came 
 with her husband from Lincolnshire to Boston, in 1636. Her hus- 
 band was a man of note, being a representative of Boston, and 
 in good repute. Mrs. Hutchinson was a well educated, shrewd 
 woman ; she was a great admirer of Mr. Cotton, then a popu- 
 lar preacher in Boston, with whom, it is probable, she was well 
 acquainted in England, as they came from the same county. 
 She was ambitious and active, and was delighted with metaphy- 
 sical subtleties and nice distinctions. She had a ready pen, and 
 a fine memory, and from the habit of taking notes in church, 
 she possessed herself of all the points in Mr. Cotton's sermons, 
 which she was fond of communicating to others of less reten- 
 tive faculties. She held conference meetings at her own house, 
 and commented on the great doctrines of salvation. She enter- 
 tained several speculative opinions, that in the present state of 
 
256 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 intelligence, would be considered as harmless as a poet's dream, 
 but which, at that time, " threw the whole colony into a flame." 
 Every household was fevered by religious discussions upon co- 
 venants of faith and covenants of works, always the most bitter 
 of all disputes. In all probability, the vanity of Mrs. Hutchin- 
 son Avas raised, to see that she could so easily disturb the reli- 
 gious and metaphysical world about her ; and no doubt, but 
 that the persecutions she suffered, made her more obstinate than 
 she otherwise would have been. If they had let her alone, her 
 doctrines would have passed away with a thousand other vaga- 
 ries ; but the clergy would not suffer this to be, notwithstanding 
 they risked something in calling this popular woman to an ac- 
 count. She was considered wiser, and more learned in the scrip- 
 tures than all her opponents. She had powerful friends. Sir 
 Henry Vane the governor, a popular young man, of large 
 wealth, was her friend, and Cotton and Wheelwright the 
 ministers, were her warm supporters, and had a profound re- 
 spect for her talents and virtues ; but still the majority of the 
 clergy was against her. 
 
 In 1637 a synod was called, the first in our history, which 
 was held in conclave at Cambridge. It was composed of the 
 governor, the deputy governor, the council of assistants, and the 
 teachers and the elders of churches. They sat in conclave for 
 fear of the people, particularly Mrs. Hutchinson's followers. 
 Her friend, Sir Henry Vane, was no longer in the chair of state. 
 In this body she was charged with heresy, and called upon to 
 defend herself before these inquisitors. The charges and spe- 
 cifications were numerous, as is proved by the judgment of 
 the court. Before the tribunal she stood for three weeks, de- 
 fending herself against a body of inquisitors, who were at once 
 the prosecutors, the witnesses, and the judges. The report of 
 the trial is said to be from the minutes of Governor Winthrop, 
 certainly not from her own brief The charges from the gover- 
 nor, who presided, were vituperations and vague, consisting of 
 general matters, rather than of special allegations ; to all of 
 which she returned the most acute and pregnant answers, evin- 
 cing a mind of the first order. One after another of her judges 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 25T 
 
 questioned and harangued her, but she never lost her self-posses- 
 sion. The only circumstance in the whole case that shows the 
 sincerity of her judges, is the report they have made of her trial. 
 Her judges were the first in the land, comprising every one 
 in the colony, who had fallen under the suspicion of having 
 been her friend. That intolerant old Dudley, the lieutenant 
 governor, was the most inveterate of her enemies. Cotton, who 
 was called as a witness, behaved well, and grave and holy as 
 he was, was treated Avith great severity as a witness. On the 
 whole they proved nothing against her, but that she had ex- 
 pressed her own opinions freely, and supported them manfully, 
 by unanswerable texts of scripture. No defence ever recorded 
 in profane history has ever been equal to this. Socrates before 
 his judges did not meet his accusers with half the acuteness. 
 Eugene Aram's defence had not the same directness and power, 
 nor that of Maria Antoinette more high mindedness. St. Paul's 
 alone, before the Areopagii can bear any comparison. He was 
 charged of introducing a new God, which, by an Athenian law, 
 was death, to prevent an increase of their catalogue of divinities. 
 He escaped by declaring that he had not enlarged their number, 
 but that he taught them who was the unknown God, whose 
 temple he had seen among them, and whose name was inscribed 
 on its walls. 
 
 Instead of raising a monument, as they should have done iv 
 this most acute metaphysician and eloquent defender of herself, 
 they found her guilty of more than eighty heretical opinions ; 
 but fortunately for themselves, they did not venture to specify 
 them in her sentence, but ordered her to recant and renounce 
 them, under the penalty of excommunication and banishment. 
 Mrs. Hutchinson was firm ; she made a fair explanation, but 
 would not renounc* what she conscientiously believed to be 
 right, and was accordingly banished. She went to Rhode Island, 
 but did not long remain there. After the death of her husband, 
 in 1642, she went to the Dutch country beyond New Haven, 
 and was, with most of her large family, massacred by the Indians. 
 This, the superstitious considered as a judgment, "for many evils 
 
 in her conversation, as well as for corrupt opinions ;" and to this 
 
 22* 
 
258 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 day she is called an artful woman, but not one of her accusers 
 dare name one of those evils of conversation, and but two or 
 three of those corrupt opinions. The writer feels ashamed of 
 the land of his birth, in reading the whole course of this fanati- 
 cal and unjust sentence, but would not have it erased from the 
 records, as it is calculated to humble the pride of the infal- 
 lible bigot, and serves as a good lesson for modern times, in 
 more than in one instance. That woman must have been of 
 virtuous life, that such a band of inquisitors could not find cause 
 to condemn, except as to opinions. The whole story is a lesson, 
 for it shows, that men in a body may do that which but few of 
 them separately, would dare to support. In that body were to be 
 found the learned Phillips, the apostle Eliot, the honest Welde, 
 with many other excellent men, who voted against the great 
 female metaphysician of her time. Three only of the synod had 
 the courage to dissent from the judgment. It seems, after all, 
 that the sentence was more a matter of policy than of law, 
 as maybe drawn from the scantiness of the record on this head; 
 for Winthrop was an acute lawyer, and if he had found any 
 thing which he dared to put on record, in justification of this 
 body, it would have been found there. That they should have 
 erred, is not surprising; but that historians of a later age should 
 have continued to justify them, is astonishing, and shows how 
 little independence or original thinking there is among those 
 who venture to call themselves historians. 
 
 HipPARCHiA, a celebrated lady of Maronea in Thrace, in the 
 time of Alexander the Great. Her attachment to learning and 
 philosophy was so great, that having attended the lectures of 
 Crates, the cynic, she fell in love with him, and resolved to 
 marry him, though he was both old and ugly ; and though she 
 was courted by many handsome young men, distinguished by 
 their rank and riches. Crates told her she could not be his 
 wife, unless she resolved to live as he did. This she cheerfully 
 agreed to, assumed the habit of the order, and accompanied him 
 everywhere to public entertainments, &c., which was not cus- 
 tomary with the Grecian ladies. She wrote several tragedies, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 259 
 
 philosophical hypotheses, and reasonings and questions, proposed 
 to Theodorus the atheist, but none of her works are extant. 
 
 HoRTENsiA, a Roman lady, was daughter of Hortensius the 
 orator, of great wit and eloquence, as a speech preserved by 
 Appian demonstrates; which for elegance of language, and 
 justness of thought, would have done honor to Cicero or De- 
 mosthenes. What gave occasion to it was, that the triumvirs 
 of Rome wasted a large sum of money for carrying on a war ; 
 and having met with difficulties in raising it, they drew up a 
 list of fourteen hundred of the richest of the ladies, intendino- 
 to tax them. Those ladies, after having in vain tried every me- 
 thod to evade so great an innovation, at last chose Hortensia for 
 their speaker, and went along with her to the market place, 
 where she addressed the triumvirs while they were administer- 
 ing justice. She concluded with these words : " Neither Ma- 
 rius, nor Cesar, nor Pompey, ever thought of obliging us to 
 take part in the domestic troubles which their ambition had 
 raised ; nay, nor did even Sylla himself, who first set up tyran- 
 ny in Rome ; and yet you assume the glorious title of reformers 
 of the state, a title, which will turn to your eternal infamy, if, 
 without the least regard to the law of equity, you persist in your 
 wicked resolution of plundering those of their lives and for- 
 tunes, who have given you no just cause of offence." The con- 
 sequence was, that they reduced the list of those who should be 
 taxed, to four hundred. 
 
 Hecuba, the second wife of Priam, and mother of Hector 
 and Paris, was, according to Homer, the daughter of Dymas, 
 or as Virgil, following Euripides, says, of Cisseis, king of 
 Thrace, and sister of Theaia, the priestess of Apollo at Troy, 
 during the war. After the capture of Troy, she attempted to 
 revenge the death of her son Polydorus, and was stoned to death 
 by the Greeks. Some say that she became a slave to Ulysses, 
 and that this prince left the unfortunate princess in the hands of 
 her enemies, who caused her to be stoned. It is probable, 
 however, that Ulysses himself was the cause of her death; 
 
260 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 because it is said, that upon his arrival in Sicily, he was so tor- 
 mented with dreams, that he built a temple to Hecate, who pre- 
 sided over dreams, and a chapel to Hecuba. 
 
 Marcia Hall, the daughter of William Hall, Esquire, was 
 born in Vermont in the year 1807. She was well educated and 
 remarkable for sedateness and deep reflection ; and until she 
 produced some verses of considerable merit, she was not sus- 
 pected of having a taste for poetry. The cast of her mind was 
 rather sentimental and touched with melancholy; a common 
 case with those who find an early grave. The philosophy of 
 this may not as yet be distinctly understood, but there are too 
 many facts on record to doubt that such things are. Miss Hall 
 was surrounded by partial friends, and had every comfort that 
 a reasonable being could wish, and seemed contented with all 
 about her ; yet nothing could elevate her above an habitual 
 touch of melancholy. She seemed not ambitious of literary 
 distinction, but willingly yielded to the wishes of her friends in 
 publishing what she wrote. She was so situated as to see in 
 her short life, an extensive circle of female friends, for her 
 father's house was a most hospitable mansion, and one Avhere 
 people of taste and information were often found. Her father 
 was a gentleman of extensive acquirements, and his thirst for 
 knowledge, and his admiration for genius, were not exceeded 
 jy any one in the country. He doated on this daughter, for in 
 addition to her fine talents, her manners were gentle and affec- 
 tionate, and all that knew her were her friends. Her poetical 
 efiusions were matters of amusement, and never seemed to fill 
 her mind. She died in 1829, of consumption, that dragon that 
 devours a thousand times as many of the virgins of the regions 
 of frost, as ever were demanded by the monster from Athens in 
 the days of fable. " Fell Phthisis" destroys more females of all 
 ages than all the rest of the catalogue of diseases. She was pre- 
 pared to meet death, and calmly too, in the lingering form it 
 presented itself While she wasted away, she still retained her 
 good feelings for all the world ; and if one might judge by the 
 smile on her lip, and the lighting up of her eye, she was even 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 2Gi 
 
 more cheerful than usual ; she was gently descending to the 
 grave. She talked of a change of Avorld with a serenity which 
 nothing but religion can give. Her compositions were, it is 
 understood numerous ; but I know not what pains there has 
 been taken to preserve them. The following is a little gem 
 from her pen, which the writer has preserved as a sort of keep- 
 sake, as a remembrancer of one who went down to the chambers 
 of the dead, in the purity of virtue, the glow of genius, and the 
 illuminations of religion. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 O take away that wreath of flowers, 
 
 Nor bind it on my brow ; 
 For what was bright in former hours, 
 
 Is dark and cheerless now. 
 
 There is no Hght shed o'er my way ; 
 
 E'en hope's pale beam has fled; 
 And those I lov'd are gone for aye 
 
 To the cold regions of the dead. 
 
 My life has been a chequered scene 
 Of grief and gladness, hopes and fears. 
 
 While joy's hght steps, and pleasing mien. 
 Were rainbow glimpses, seen through tears. 
 
 Then take away that wreath of flowers, 
 
 Nor bind it on my brow ; 
 For what was bright in former hours, 
 
 Is dark and cheerless now. 
 
 Sarah Hull, wife of General William Hull, was born at 
 Newton, in Massachusetts, about the year 1755. She was the 
 daughter of Judge Fuller, of that town, a man of note in his 
 day. His daughter had all the advantages of education which 
 Boston afforded, and they were superior to those of any other 
 part of the country at that time. Mrs. Hull was distinguished 
 for good sense, lady-like manners, and great energy of charac- 
 ter. Her husband was a gallant young officer ; he entered the 
 army on the breaking out of the war, and gained laurels m 
 every campaign. Mrs. Hull was with him in several ; she was 
 
262 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 one of those women who knew what they had to suffer in a 
 camp, and made up her mind to meet all things with compo- 
 sure. It was the fashion then, more than at the present day, 
 for the wives of officers to follow their hushands to the wars. 
 There were an unusual number of ladies in Burgoyne's army ; 
 they had come out for amusement, to spend the winter in Alba- 
 ny and New York, after the junction between Burgoyne and 
 Clinton should be formed. They were sadly deceived, and suf- 
 fered much, notwithstanding, the Americans did every thing in 
 their power to make them comfortable, after the surrender. Mrs. 
 Schuyler, Knox, Brooks, Hull, and other American ladies were 
 incessant in their attentions to Lady Harriet Acland, the Coun- 
 tess of Balcarras, Baroness Reidessel, and many others, who 
 were voluntary prisoners with their husbands. It was contend- 
 ed in that day, that ladies were necessary in an army, to keep 
 the officers from engaging in a round of dissipation, and to 
 make them attentive to dress and moral discipline. It was then 
 objected to, from an apprehension that men would not be so cou- 
 rageous when they knew that their wives would suffer from the 
 effects of a disastrous fight ; but there is no single instance on 
 record, in our revolutionary annals, of the fears of a woman 
 turning her husband from the fight, or of her persuading him not 
 to go to battle ; but many instances might be mentioned of their 
 preparing the armor for the conflict, and of their girding on 
 the sword of the officers with their own hands. 
 
 At the close of the war, Mrs. Hull returned with her family 
 to her paternal inheritance, at Newton, where Major Hull soon 
 became noticed in political life, and was returned a senator for 
 the county of Middlesex, to the legislature of the commonwealth 
 of Massachusetts, in which office he served for several terms. 
 In this body he was urbane and assiduous, and it might be said, 
 popular, notwithstanding he was in the minority. After the 
 resignation of General John Brooks, in 1799, or 1800, General 
 Hull was appointed by the legislature a major-general of the 
 military division of his county. It was an excellent body of 
 militia, in fine discipline, having been under that excellent 
 officer, General Brooks. General Hull called out his whole 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 263 
 
 division twice, which were as fine military displays as have ever 
 been seen in our country ; the troops were mostly in neat and 
 tasteful uniforms, and well equipped. Mrs. Hull did the honors 
 of the general's marque, and the ease, dignity, and urbanity, with 
 which she received her guests, mostly members of the legisla- 
 lature, and gentlemen and ladies of distinction, was the grand 
 theme of conversation for a long time afterwards. She had with 
 her two or three daughters full grown, who were elegant wo- 
 men, and attracted much attention among the visitors in this 
 novel situation. 
 
 In the year 1805, General Hull was appointed governor of 
 Michigan Territory, an office which he held until 1814, when 
 he was succeeded by Lewis Cass, the present secretary of war. 
 General Hull was a popular governor, and Mrs. Hull was ad- 
 mirably suited to her station. She gave a tone to society on the 
 frontiers, and her family circle was admired and spoken of with 
 pleasure, by every one who visited that region for pleasure or 
 business. It was a wild region about them, although Detroit is 
 an old settlement itself At her hospitable head quarters, the 
 traveler rested from his scientific tour, and the ofUcers as they 
 came from the farthest military posts, found a warm and gen- 
 erous welcome. At her table there was mind, taste, letters, 
 and good manners. 
 
 At the commencement of the last war Governor Hull was 
 appointed a major general in the United States' army, but on 
 the express condition of retaining his office of governor of the 
 territory of Michigan. When he took command of the army, 
 war had not been declared, and his first knowledge of this fact 
 was from the British. He w^as unfortunate in this campaign, 
 and was obliged to surrender his forces to the army, under 
 Proctor, which was much larger than his own. This subjected 
 him to the greatest of all evils, except the loss of conscious rectitude, 
 a suspicion of cowardice or treason. These disasters and his 
 long protracted trial, we will leave to history, or to the general's 
 biographer. The public have long since reversed its own de- 
 cision upon the case, and before the general died he received 
 «he evidence of public favor, a public dinner, attended by the 
 
264 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 first men in his state, among whom were many who were once 
 ready to condemn him. After the agitation had in some mea- 
 sure passed away, General Hull wrote a defence of his conduct, 
 which was unanswerable, and has been admired by all who have 
 read it. If such misfortunes are sad to a man, they are still 
 more excruciating to a woman ; but Mrs. Hull bore up under all 
 these evils like a philosopher and a Christian, believing that the 
 day would come when all aspersions would be wiped from her 
 husband's escutcheon. While the cloud hung upon her house, 
 for what we have stated is not all, she lost a gallant son in 
 battle, fighting for his country ; she was serene and dignified, as 
 if nothing had happened. Every family arrangement was 
 strictly attended to, and her visitors were always received with 
 a freedom and complacency that took away all restraint on 
 their part. After having been restored to public confidence, and 
 having embraced his old companion in arms, Lafayette, General 
 Hull died in the fall of 1825. Mrs. Hull survived him less 
 than a year, and died in August, 1826, in the house in which 
 she was born. She had suffered much, but bore no traces of 
 that suffering. She died as one who had seen enough of life, 
 and was ready to depart in the Christian's faith of happiness 
 beyond the grave. 
 
 Sarah Hoffman. Among the mothers in Israel who de- 
 serve, from continued exertions, in the cause of benevolence 
 and religion, to be long remembered by mankind, is Mrs. Sarah 
 Hoffman. She was the daughter of David Ogden, one of the 
 judges of the superior court of New-Jersey, when that state 
 was a province of Great Britain. She was born at Newark, in 
 that state, September 8th, 1742. Her mother's name was 
 Gertrude Governeur, a woman attentive to the education of her 
 children. Sarah Ogden was married to Mr. Nicholas Hoffman, 
 November 1 4th, 1762, by whom she had four children, two of 
 whom, with twenty-four grand children, and nine great-grand 
 children, were alive at the time of her death, July 30th, 1821. 
 In her early days she was provident, charitable, and religious, 
 and took delight in doing all the good she could. During the 
 
 I 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 265 
 
 revolution, she, in common with all her country-women, saw 
 evil times. Her children were young, and her means impaired 
 by the sanguinary conflict, and of course her charities were in 
 a measure confined ; but if her hand was less frequently open to 
 relieve, than accorded with feelings, her heart was growing 
 rich in benevolence, and she was suffered to live until she 
 could sympathize and succor at the same time. She was a 
 woman of sagacity, and saw that promiscuous charities, although 
 they gave some relief for the moment, were not often judicious. 
 She, with others with whom she communicated freely, among 
 whom were Mrs. Graham, Macomb, Bethune, Startin, Seton, 
 Lowe, Howe, and others, in 1797, established a society for the 
 relief of poor widows with small children. The institution 
 flourished under the auspices of these pious, intelligent women, 
 and was the means of saving much distress and suffering. At 
 a stated meeting of the society, in April, 1803, it appeared by their 
 report that " ninety-eight widows and two hundred and twenty- 
 three children, had, by their means, been brought through the 
 severity of the winter, with a considerable degree of comfort." 
 The name of Mrs. Hoffman, in the act of incorporation, was 
 associated with that Dorcas of charity, Mrs. Graham. This 
 society was established on broad and tolerant principles. " It 
 was," says the pious and liberal Stanford, whose delicate and 
 feeling account of this lady has been in a good degree our guide, 
 " a happy trait, in the formation of this society, and still con- 
 tinues, that objects of distress be relieved without the shadow of 
 regard either to national distinction or to religious persuasion. 
 It is presumed that this society was not only the first of the kind 
 established in America, but the first in the world ! Information 
 of this establishment soon reached the city of London, and pro- 
 duced a dictate in the breasts of some ladies of dis^ction, to 
 form a society in imitation of the one in New York ; and which 
 was supported under the patronage of the kind duchess of York. 
 When one of the managers visited London, she was waited 
 upon by several ladies, to enquire particularl}'- into the manner 
 of conducting this society, and received desirable information." 
 
 Good father Stanford is wrong in thinking that this was the 
 
 4,0 
 
266 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 first society for the relief of the widows and orphans in the 
 world ; more than half of the monasteries of the world were 
 established for the self same purpose. It is often incorporated in 
 the vow of pious nuns, to feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, 
 and to lead the blind. What Mrs. Graham, and Mrs. Hoffman, 
 and their associates did, during" the ravages of the yellow fever, 
 in 1798, had been done by many a pious nun before that time 
 and since. Mrs. Hoffman and Graham, and their associates, 
 perambulated the districts of disease and desolation, entered the 
 abodes of misery, and brought consolation to wretchedness 
 and despair. These good women were angels of mercy and 
 saved thousands ready to perish. I have seen warriors arming 
 for the battle field, philosophers who had made up their minds 
 to die, and duelists in the crisis of honor, all of gallant bear- 
 ing ; but this courage is nothing to what I have seen from a 
 timid female, who had made up her mind to go where duty led, 
 where contagion and misery had taken possession of the dwell- 
 ings of poverty. Talk of forlorn hopes of the Leonidean bands, 
 of martyrs here and there, they had something to sustain them 
 that came from the world, but these good women were like those at 
 the tomb of Jesus of Nazareth, when even their hopes were lost. 
 In this work of charity they did not stop to settle a creed, to 
 discover who professed to be an episcopalian, or a presbyterian, 
 a baptist, a methodist, or any other sect, their Savior led the way, 
 and they followed. 
 
 Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Hoffman, hand in hand, went on 
 together in the paths of charity, and turned off only for a mo- 
 ment to choose their own shaped altar, before which to kneel to 
 say their prayers ; and this worship performed, they would join 
 again to travel highways and byways, in search of objects of 
 charity frojn morn until night. They clambered up to dank- 
 some garrets to find the wretched ; they descended into loath- 
 some cellars to adminster comfort to those dying in the dark 
 vapors of a dungeon. They did not hesitate to take with them 
 medicine for the sick, food for the halfstarved, and Christian 
 consolation for the sick at soul, wretched beings, half doubt- 
 incr even the o-oodness of the God who made them. There 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 267 
 
 is a sickness that comes over the heart in these abodes of poverty, 
 closely allied to blasphemy. The great preacher understood 
 this principle. The starving have seldom a thanksgiving on their 
 dying lips ; but as these angels of succor came, they taught these 
 wretches, as they fed them, how to pray to their Father in heaven. 
 If these good Samaritans had recorded their adventures, it would 
 have made series of tales far surpassing the ingenuity of fiction. 
 But their labors can never be fully known, except to Him who 
 makes up the record of the book of life. 
 
 Mrs. Hoffman was not only a woman of feeling and firmness, 
 but of a strong mind, which is fairly proved by her epistolary 
 correspondence to Mrs. Startin and others. Those who visited 
 her while she was on her death-bed, have borne witness to the 
 fervor of her faith and to the strength of her intellect. May 
 thousands emulate the beauties of her life. 
 
 Sarah Hall, was born at Philadelphia, on the 30th of Octo- 
 ber, 1761. She was daughter of John Ewing, D. D., who was 
 for many years provost of Pennsylvania University, and pastor 
 of a presbyterian church in that city. He was distinguished 
 for his attainments as a scholar and a divine. Mrs. Hall was 
 thoroughly educated in every household duty by her excellent 
 mother. She was married young, and reared a large family, 
 and made the most judicious use of all the means put into her 
 hands. Her father had not given much attention to her educa- 
 tion, no more than social instruction would go in his leisure 
 hours, and this may be farther than is generally imagined. 
 There is much to be gained in a family circle, when the mem- 
 bers are intellectual, and devoted to cultivating their minds. 
 Every thing is discussed with so much fairness in a well regu- 
 lated family ; thus even errors of opinion are made subservient 
 to truth. Where good English is used, and conversation is 
 free, the youthful mind is every hour gaining information, and 
 improving that which has been gained. In this fireside circle 
 she made herself mistress of the English grammar at a very 
 early period of life, and tested her knowledge by all the best 
 writers of the age. She was fond of the sciences, and availed 
 
268 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 
 
 herself of all the advantages of her situation, to become familiar 
 with the sublimest of them all, astronomy. Near a college these 
 advantages are usually greater than at other places. 
 
 In 1782 she was married to James Hall, Esq., the son of a 
 wealthy planter of Maryland, and removed with him to a farm 
 in that state, and entered upon her duties, as the wife of an agri- 
 culturist, with great zeal. She not only looked carefully to all 
 her expenditures, but at the same time was equally careful to 
 improve her mind by miscellaneous and systematic reading. 
 After five years of retirement, her family removed to Philadel- 
 phia, where her husband first had the appointment of secretary 
 to the land office, and was afterwards made marshal of the 
 United States for the district of Pennsylvania, the duties of 
 which offices he discharged with fidelity and honor. In this city- 
 she had the pleasure of enjoying the acquaintance of a learned 
 and social circle, which is always necessary to polish a superior 
 mind. Philadelphia was then the Athens of the United States. 
 When literature was considered only as a household, not a 
 foreign commodity, she was sought for by all who valued letters, 
 or who had a wish to see the progress of learning in our country. 
 
 In 1800, when Joseph Dennie established his periodical " The 
 Port Folio," in that city, Mrs. Hall was solicited to be a con- 
 tributor, for her acquirements in literature were well known to 
 Dennie and his classical club. Dennie, with all his faults, was 
 never charged with underrating genius, but he was too fastidious 
 to admit any thing into his Port Folio, that had not taste and 
 talent in it ; perhaps in this he was too particular, for he thought 
 more of taste than talent, more of the form than the matter. He 
 was anxious to engage the sprightly pen of Mrs. Hall, for at 
 that time a more buoyant spirit could not be found in the lite- 
 rary circles of our country, Her disposition was cheerful and 
 she looked on the bright side of every thing. At her hospita- 
 ble mansion, the feverish scholar found more charms to cure his 
 misanthropy than could be found elsewhere. If Dennie had 
 outlived her, he would, in the fulness of his soul, have borne 
 testimony to all this ; but heaven decreed that she should sur- 
 vive him many years. When the evil spirit came over him, as 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 269 
 
 he does over all beings who are regardless of themselves, he 
 went, to use his own words, to the house of Mrs. Hall, to drive 
 off all his blue devils. Her conversation abounded in classical 
 recollections, in playful remarks, and in delicate satire, and, like 
 the harp of David, gave new soul and life to the gloomy editor. 
 After Dennie's death, the Port Folio came into the hands of her 
 son, John E. Hall, who conducted it for more than ten years. 
 She, from affection and duty, then became a constant contributor 
 to the work. He considered her as his main stay in all those 
 articles which attract for their good humor, and secure the reader 
 by the purity of their principles and the beauty of their style. 
 This son was near and dear to her, he was her first born. She 
 had taken great pains with his education from the cradle ; and 
 by all he was considered as a tasteful, honorable, intellectual 
 scholar. His course, perhaps, had not entirely gratified her 
 ambition : he was educated a lawyer, but entering into politics 
 when young, he was seduced from his profession, while at Balti- 
 more, by that galaxy of genius which then spanned the political 
 horizon, Hanson, Grosvenor, and others ; and he used his pen to 
 assert national rights and political views, when he should have 
 been, in justice to himself, drawing declarations, and arguing 
 causes. This has been the fate of many a superior genius. No 
 country on the globe has ever had so many sacrifices in this 
 way as our own, in proportion to numbers. It is painful to look 
 back on the catalogue of those who promised much in their pro- 
 fessions, who have lost the world for politics and literature. The 
 charms of general literature are seducing, but the remuneration 
 of the editor is scanty, and the brightest genius sees himself 
 poor and dependent, Avhile some plodding creature is growing 
 thrifty by cautious perseverance and timely exertions. Even if 
 political distinction is the goal of the aspirant, he frequently 
 finds some stupid being, that he would not have condescended to 
 have put in comparison with himself for a moment, in the pre- 
 liminary stages of his course, foistered into office by some burst of 
 infernal smoke in politics, or by some accidental disagreement 
 among his superiors. Mrs. Hall saw, to her great gratification, 
 that her son never compromised a principle, or yielded a well 
 
 23* 
 
270 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 fixed sentiment, to gain wealth or fame. He was devoted to litera- 
 ture, and looked forward to the time, perhaps, when his country 
 would do justice to the early martyrs in the cause. 
 
 Mrs. Hall experienced many of the vicissitudes of human 
 life ; she had enjoyed the pleasures of affluence, and had known 
 the miseries of poverty. She had removed from place to place, 
 accommodating herself to the fortunes of her husband, and 
 every where had cherished him with kindness, and softened the 
 asperities of his fate. She had felt the maternal pang, the loss 
 of children ; some had died in infancy, one when entering upon 
 manhood, and another when he had commenced his course of 
 professional celebrity. These are indeed trials to a mothers 
 heart, which none but a mother can know. But she still support- 
 ed that serenity of mind which is only the lot of the enlightened 
 Christian. Her mind was constantly active ; she Avrote upon 
 many interesting topics ; upon " The Extent of Female Influence, 
 and on the importance of exciting it in favor of Christianity ;" 
 on " The Defence of American Women." These were general 
 topics on which she not only wrote, but conversed from day to 
 day, when it might do any good. If our limits permitted, we 
 might make many valuable extracts from her works, but must 
 refer our readers to the writings of this excellent woman, which 
 are a treasure to every female. 
 
 Her opinions came from one who knew all the pulses of a 
 woman's heart, and who had noted the effect of every change 
 of feeling, and every form of sentiment upon her character. From 
 such a one, moral precepts are beyond all price. 
 
 Mrs. Hall died at Philadelphia on the fourth of April, 1830, 
 in the sixty-ninth year of her age, respected by all who knew 
 her. Since her death, a memoir of this excellent woman has 
 been published, Avith some morsels of her writings ; but to know 
 the value of such a one, we should be able to trace all the sweet 
 influences she has shed upon moral, intellectual, and religious 
 society, from the morning of her life to its close. It is grievous 
 to think, that while here and there one noble mother is mention- 
 ed, as it were on the margin of a leaf in history, thousands pass 
 away without a memorial. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 271 
 
 St. Hilda, princess of Scotland, was learned in scripture, 
 and composed many religious works. She opposed strenuously 
 the tonsure of the priests, supposing it, perhaps, a superstitious 
 or a heathenish observance. She built the convent of Fare, of 
 which she became abbess, and died therein 685. 
 
 Heoswitta, a nun of the abbey of Pandershiem, was born in 
 Saxony, and flourished in the eleventh century under the reign 
 of Otho II., who employed her to write the funeral oration of his 
 father. She composed in Latin many religious books, which were 
 collected in one folio volume, printed at Nuremburgh, in 1501. 
 
 Isabella of Castile. This illustrious woman was the 
 daughter of John II, king of Castile and Leon, and born in 
 1450, four years before the death of her father. King John, 
 after a long, turbulent, and unhappy reign, died at Medina del 
 Campo, leaving by his first wife, Maria of Arragon, a son, Don 
 Henry, who succeeded him ; and by his second wife, Isabella of 
 Portugal, two children in their infancy, Alphonso and Isabella. 
 
 Alphonso died at the age of fifteen, and the party of nobles 
 opposed to Henry, immediately resolved to place Isabella at 
 their head. When their deputies waited upon her with the offer 
 of a crown, she replied, that " it Avas not theirs to bestow ; and 
 that while her elder brother Henry existed, nothing should in- 
 duce her to assume a title which was his by the laws of God 
 and man ;" at the same time she claimed her right of succession, 
 and the title of princess of Austurias, which belonged to her as 
 heiress to the throne. The chiefs Avere astonished and discon- 
 certed at a reply which left them without an excuse for revolt. 
 Having in vain endeavored to overcome her scruples, they con- 
 cluded a treaty with Henry, the most humiliating, certainlj^, 
 that ever was extorted from a father and a king. By this treaty, 
 he acknowledged his reputed daughter Joanna, to be illegitimate; 
 he consented to set aside her claims entirely, and declared Isa- 
 bella his heiress and successor. 
 
 At such a price did this despicable monarch purchase, for a 
 few years longer, the empty title of king, forfeiting, at the same 
 
272 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 time, all kingly attributes, as love, obedience, honor, power; 
 being a husband, he had branded his own name with ignominy; 
 and being a father, had disgraced and disinherited his unoffending 
 child. 
 
 The most important object of the malcontent party, was to 
 select from among many aspirants, a fit consort for Isabella. 
 The king of Portugal made overtures for himself; Louis II. 
 asked her in marriage for his brother, the Duke de Guienne ; 
 Edward IV., of England, offered his brother, the Duke of Cla- 
 rence, who was afterwards drowned in a butt of malmsey ; and 
 the king of Arragon asked her hand for his son Don Ferdinand. 
 The latter was preferred by Isabella herself, as well as by all 
 her party ; but as it was the interest of her brother Henry to 
 throw every possible impediment in the way of such a marriage, 
 the archbishop of Toledo carried Isabella privately to Vallado- 
 lid, where Ferdinand met her in disguise, and the articles being 
 previously prepared, and on principles the most favorable to 
 Isabella and her future kingdom, Ferdinand subscribed to them 
 at once, and received from the archbishop the hand of the young 
 princess. 
 
 Isabella, at the time of her marriage, had just entered her 
 twentieth year, and Ferdinand was a few months younger than 
 his bride. Within a few days after the nuptial ceremony, 
 Ferdinand and Isabella were obliged to separate; the prince 
 retired from Valladolid as privately as he had entered it, and 
 during the next two or three years, it appears, from the course of 
 events, that they met seldom, and at long intervals. 
 
 When Henry found that this dreaded marriage had been so- 
 lemnized, without his knowledge or consent, he was struck 
 at once with rage and terror ; he revoked the treaty he had made 
 in Isabella's favor, declared his daughter Joanna his only legal 
 heir, and civil war again distracted and desolated the kingdom 
 for more than three years. In 1474, Isabella proposed an inter- 
 view with her brother, and they met at Segovia ; she employed 
 on this occasion all the eloquence, all the powers of persuasion 
 she possessed, as a woman, and all the ascendency which her 
 superior energy and spirit gave her over the feeble, vacillating 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 273 
 
 mind of the king, to procure a reconciliation ; when Henry- 
 appeared inclined to yield, and even went so far as to lead her 
 palfrey, as she rode through the streets of Segovia. Isabella sent 
 for her husband, as if merely to pay his dutiful respects to his 
 brother in law. They appeared in public together, entertained 
 each other with seeming cordiality, and thus, by her address 
 Isabella led on her brother, apparently, to countenance those 
 pretensions which he had himself denied. At the end of the 
 same year, the death of Henry opened a surer road to peace ; 
 he died of a fever in December, 1474. His minister, Villena, 
 had died a short time before ; and Ferdinand and Isabella were 
 immediately, and almost without opposition, proclaimed king 
 and queen of Castile. 
 
 The archbishop of Teledo, who had been so instrumental in 
 placing Isabella on the throne, and the chief negociator of her 
 marriage, believed himself now at the summit of power, and 
 expected every thing from the gratitude or the weakness of the 
 young queen ; he was very much surprised to find that the Car- 
 dinal Mondoza had at least an equal share of influence and favor, 
 and that Isabella was not of a character to leave the govern- 
 ment in the hands of another. He was heard to say tauntingly, 
 •' that he would soon make Isabella lay down her sceptre, and 
 take up the distaff again." But it was not so easy, and the am- 
 bitious archbishop, quitting the court in a fit of jealousy and dis- 
 gust, threw himself into the party of Joanna, whose pretensions 
 were supported by the young marquis of Villena and other 
 nobles. Alphonso, king of Portugal, also engaged in the cause 
 of Joanna, upon condition that she should be contracted to him, 
 although he was her uncle, and more than twice her age. He 
 accordingly invaded Castile with a powerful army, and Joanna 
 proclaimed queen at Placentia. But Ferdinand, who possessed 
 consummate skill as a general, engaged the Portuguese at Toro, 
 defeated them, and obliged Alphonso to retire to his own king- 
 dom. The disaffected nobles submitted one after another to the 
 power of Isabella, and Castile breathed at last from the horrors 
 of civil war. As for the poor Princess Joanna, whose destiny 
 it was to be disgraced and unfortunate, through the vices of her 
 
274 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 parents, after being the affianced bride of several princes, who 
 all, one after another, disclaimed her, when she could no longer 
 bring a crown for her dowry, she at last sought refuge in a 
 convent, where she took the veil at the age of twenty, and died 
 a nun. 
 
 Thus Isabella remained without a competitor, and was ac- 
 knowledged queen of Castile and Leon ; and three years after 
 the battle of Toro, the death of his father, raised Ferdinand to 
 the throne of Arragon ; the kingdoms of Castile and Arragon 
 were thenceforward united indissolubly, though still indepen- 
 dent of each other. 
 
 The first great event of the reign of the two sovereigTis was 
 the war of Granada. Hostility against the Moors seems to have 
 been the hereditary appanage of the crown of Castile ; and it 
 was one of the principle articles in Isabella's marriage treaty, 
 that Ferdinand should lead the armies of the queen against the 
 infidels, as soon as the affairs of the kingdom allowed him to 
 do so. The Spaniards fought for honor, dominion, and the in- 
 terest of the church ; the Moors fought for their homes and 
 hearths, their faith, their country, and their very existence as a 
 nation. 
 
 The kingdom of Granada extended along the south of Spain, 
 for about one hundred and eighty miles, and between the moun- 
 tains and the sea ; its breadth was about seventy miles ; yet this 
 narrow space was filled with populous cities, enriched by agri- 
 culture and commerce, defended by strong fortresses, and in- 
 habited by a wealthy, warlike, and industrious race of people. 
 Nearly in the centre of the kingdom stood the royal city of 
 Granada, on two lofty hills, the one crowned by the glorious 
 palace of the Alhambra, within whose splendid courts, forty 
 thousand persons might have been lodged and entertained ; the 
 other by the citadel of Alcazaba. The sides of these hills and 
 the valleys between them, were occupied by houses and palaces 
 to the number of seventy thousand, and Granada alone could 
 send forth from her gates twenty thousand fighting men. Around 
 this noble city stretched the Vega, or Plain of Granada, which 
 resembled one vast and beautiful garden, in the highest state of 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 275 
 
 cultivation ; there flourished the citron and the orange, the 
 pomegranate and the fig-tree ; the olive poured forth its oil, and 
 the vine its purple juice. On one side, a range of snowy moun- 
 tains seemed to fence it from hostile neighbors ; on the other, 
 the blue Mediterranean washed its shores, and poured into its 
 harbors the treasures of Africa and the Levant. Nor were 
 the inhabitants of this terrestrial Eden unmindful or unworthy 
 of its glorious loveliness. They believed themselves pecu- 
 liarly favored by heaven, in being placed on a spot of earth so 
 enchanting, that they fancied the celestial paradise must be sus- 
 pended immediately over it, and could alone exceed it in delight. 
 Their patriotism had something in it romantic and tender, 
 like the passion of a lover for his mistress ; they clung to 
 their beautiful country with a yearning affection ; they poured 
 their blood like water in its defence ; they celebrated its charms, 
 and lamented its desolation in those sweet and beautiful ballads 
 which are yet extant, and which can yet draw tears from their 
 Christian conquerors. 
 
 Long before the last invasion of Ferdinand and Isabella, the 
 Moorish power had been on the decline. They had once pos- 
 sessed nearly the whole of the peninsula, from the strait of Gib- 
 ralter to the Pyrenees ; but had, by degrees, been driven south- 
 ward by the Christian powers, until they were circumscribed 
 within the boundaries of Granada. 
 
 The Castilian sovereigns, great as were their resources and 
 power, had to endure some signal reverses. In truth, the Moors 
 made a glorious stand for their national honor and independence; 
 and had it not been for their own internal divisions and distracted 
 councils, which gave them over a prey to their conquerors, their 
 subjection, which cost such a lavish expenditure of blood, and 
 oil, and treasure, had been more dearly purchased ; perhaps 
 the issue had been altogether different. The war of Granada 
 lasted ten years, and with the surrender of the capital, terminated 
 the dominion of the Moors in Spain, which, dating from the 
 defeat of Roderick, the last of the Goths, had endured seven 
 hundred and seventy-eight years. 
 
 During the last iew years of her life, Isabella was gradually 
 
276 FEMALE BIOGRAPHV. 
 
 crushed to the earth hy a series of domestic calamities, which 
 no human wisdom could have averted, and for which no earthly 
 prosperity could afford consolation. 
 
 In 1496, her mother, the queen dowager of Castile, died in 
 her arms. The queen's most beloved daughter, the princess 
 Isabella, lost her young husband, Alphonso of Portugal, who 
 was killed by a fall from a horse, four months after their mar- 
 riage, and her only son, Don Juan, died of a fever a few months 
 after his union with Margaret of Austria. Several years 
 after the death of Alphonso, the princess Isabella, bestowed her 
 hand on Emanuel, who had ascended the throne of Portugal. 
 This daughter, whom Isabella appears to have loved and trusted 
 beyond every human being, died in childbirth at Toledo, be- 
 queathing to her mother's care a beautiful but feeble infant, the 
 heir to Castile, Arragon, and Granada, to Portugal, Navarre, 
 Naples, Sicily, and to all the opening glories of the eastern and 
 western world. As if crushed beneath the burden of such 
 magnificent destinies, the child pined away and died. These 
 successive losses followed so quick one upon another, that it 
 seemed as if the hand of Heaven had doomed the house of Fer- 
 dinand and Isabella to desolation. 
 
 The princess Joanna, now her heiress, had married the arch- 
 duke Phillip, of Austria, who was remarkable for his gay man- 
 ners and captivating person; the marriage had been one of 
 mere policy on his part. But the poor princess, who, unhappily 
 for herself, to a plain person and infirm health, added strong pas- 
 sions and great sensibility, had centered all her affections in her 
 husband, whom she regarded with a fond and exclusive idolatry, 
 while he returned her attachment with the most negligent cool- 
 ness. Though Isabella had the satisfaction of seeing Joanna a 
 mother, though she pressed in her arms a grandson, (afterwards 
 the Emperor Charles V.,) whose splendid destinies, if she could 
 have beheld them through the long lapse of years, might in part 
 have consoled her, yet the feeble health of this infant, and the 
 sight of her daughter's misery, imbittered her days. At length, 
 on the departure of Phillip for the low countries, the unhappy 
 Joanna gave way to such transports of grief, that it ended in the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 277 
 
 complete bereavement of her senses. To this terrible blow was 
 added another; for about the same time, the news arrived that 
 Cath erine of Arragon had lost her young husband, Prince Arthur. 
 Isabella's maternal heart, wounded in the early death or pro- 
 tracted sorrows of her children, had no hope, no consolation. 
 She pined away, lovely in her grandeur, till the deep melancholy 
 of her mind seized on her constitution, and threw her into a 
 rapid decline. She expired at Medina del Campo, after a lin- 
 gering illness of four months, on the twenty-fifth of November, 
 1505, in the fifty-fourth year of her age, having reigned thirty- 
 one years. 
 
 Esther Inglis, a lady eminent for her skill in calligraphy. 
 In the beauty, exactness, and variety of her characters, she ex- 
 celled all who had preceded her. A specimen of her delicate 
 and beautiful writing was, in 1711, in possession of Mr. Samuel 
 Hello, her great grandson. Others were deposited in the castle 
 at Edinburgh. In the library of Christ church, Oxford, are the 
 Psalms of David, written in French by Mrs. Inglis, who pre- 
 sented them in person to queen Elizabeth, by whom they were 
 given to the library. Two manuscripts, written by Mrs. Inglis, 
 were also preserved with care in the Bodlein library. The fol- 
 lowing address is in the second leaf, writt<^n in capital letters : 
 " To the right worshipful, my very singular friend, Joseph Hall, 
 doctor of divinity, and dean of Winchester, Esther Inglis wishes 
 all increase of true happiness, June 21st, 1617." In the third 
 leaf is pasted the head of the writer, painted upon a card. Every 
 chapter of this curious performance is written in a different hand, 
 as is also the dedication. The manuscript contains nearly forty 
 different characters of writing. The beginnings and endings 
 of the chapters are adorned with beautiful head and tail pieces, 
 and the marquis, in imitation of the old manuscripts, curiously 
 decorated with the pen. The book is dedicated to the earl of 
 Essex. On one of the first pages are his arms, neatly drawn, 
 with all their quarterings. In the fifth leaf, drawn with a pen, 
 is a picture of Esther Inglis, in the habit of the times ; her right 
 
 hand holds a pen, the left rests upon an open book, on one of 
 
 24 
 
278 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the leaves in which is written, " De I'Eternel le bien de moi 
 le mal ou rien." A music book lies open before her. Under 
 the picture is a Latin epigram, by Andrew Melvin, and on the 
 following- page a second, by the same author, in praise of Mrs. 
 Inglis. In the royal library are "Esther Inglis' Fifty Em- 
 blems," finely drawTi and written. Mrs. Inglis appears to have 
 lived unmarried until she was about forty years of age, when 
 she became the wife of Bartholomew Kellow, a Scotchman. 
 
 Ann H. Judson. The pioneers in every great work, if it was 
 only for their enterprise, should be held in remembrance ; but 
 when they are of importance, by weight of character or genius, 
 as it often happens, they should be, in various ways, given as an 
 example to the public. The first female in this country who 
 made up her mind to become a missionary to the East Indies, 
 was Mrs. Ann H. Judson, She was the daughter of John and 
 Rebecca Hazeltine. She was born in Bradford, a lovely town 
 on the right bank of the Merrimack, in Essex county, Massachu- 
 setts, on the twenty-second of December, 1789. She was a 
 spirited, fine girl, and had the good fortune to live in a town, 
 where attention was paid to the education of both sexes. When 
 she was about twelve years of age, an academy, with a male and 
 female department, was established in Bradford, and she was 
 sent to it for her education, during the spring, summer, and fall 
 months. In 1806, she became a professor of religion, and from 
 a laughter loving girl, the joy of the social circle, and the pride 
 of the ball room, she became abstracted from the pleasures of 
 the world, and devoted her time to acquiring knowledge, and in 
 improving her heart in religious exercises. In 1807, the writer 
 of this narrative attended an examination of the scholars at 
 Bradford Academy, when Miss Hazeltine was adjudged to be 
 the best scholar in the school. She was then remarkably beau- 
 tiful, and was among many well educated young ladies, of 
 highly respectable families ; but she bore her honors so meekly, 
 that she was the general favorite. There seemed not to be a 
 spark of envy towards her among them all. She often adjusted 
 those little disputes which spring up in every seminary, and 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 279 
 
 sometimes, if not settled at once, produce lasting effects. For seve- 
 ral years after leaving the academy at Bradford, Miss Hazeltine 
 was engaged in school keeping, in some of the towns neigh- 
 boring to that of her birth, and was held in repute as an instruc- 
 tress. Her fame was in all the churches, and of course had 
 reached the ears of the young missionaries, then about to be sent 
 to India, to carry the glad tidings of the gospel to the Hindoos. 
 Mr. Judson, one of those missionaries, sought her, and found 
 she was all that fondest admirers had said of her. He wooed 
 and won her, with a full knowledge of his intentions of going 
 to India, and that she was to accompany him. The other mis- 
 sionaries had not then proposed themselves to the young ladies 
 that they afterwards married, so that in fact. Miss Hazeltine was 
 the first who made up her mind to engage in this enterprise, of 
 carrying light to the dark regions of the east, from whence 
 light once emanated. She was married to Mr. Judson, on the 
 fifth of January 1812, and sailed on the nineteenth of the same 
 month, from Salem for Calcutta. Mr. Judson had changed his 
 sentiments on the subject of baptism, while on his voyage, and 
 of course, he came under the direction and patronage of a dif- 
 ferent sect than the one that had sent him abroad. 
 
 The head quarters of the Baptist mission was at Rangoon, in 
 the Burman empire, about seven hundred miles from Calcutta. 
 Here Mr. and Mrs. Judson began to learn the language of the 
 country and made rapid progress in their studies. But difficul- 
 ties and dangers surrounded them, and for these they were pre- 
 pared by moral discipline. They had the enthusiasm and high 
 feeling of the ancient crusades, without any particle of the combat 
 stirring spirit which animated the soul of St. Lewis. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Judson wrote tracts in the Burman language, and made 
 some excitement among the natives. In 1820, Mrs. Judson 
 made an attempt to prevail upon the emperor to suffer her hus- 
 band to preach and propagate the Christian religion in the em- 
 pire, but without avail. In consequence of ill health, in 1821, 
 Mrs, Judson left Rangoon and repaired to Calcutta, and from 
 thence sailed to England, where she staid some time, and then 
 sailed to New York. She then visited her native town for a 
 
280 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 short time. All were happy to see her, although she no longer 
 wore the bloom of youth, nor moved with the elastic step of her 
 days of health. Yet she was still interesting in person, and 
 fascinating in her manners. The rose had given place to the 
 lily, and that lily had become tinged with intolerable suns. 
 She left Bradford, as the winter approached, and spent the cold 
 months in Baltimore and Washington, and gained strength 
 every day. During this winter she wrote the . history of the 
 Burman mission. This was a work of talent and faithfulness. 
 Wherever she traveled she made friends, and was, without 
 exception, the most enlightened advocate for missions that ever 
 participated in missionary labors. In June, 1823, she sailed 
 from this country for India, and arrived there in October, and 
 shortly afterwards repaired to Rangoon which they soon left 
 for the capital Ava. Just as they were getting under way 
 in their missionary labors, the Burmese war broke out. The 
 Bengal government invaded Burmah, in the spring of 1824. 
 The war was a bloody one to the Burmese. Chief after 
 chief was beaten, and the king, in his ignorance and wrath, 
 suspected Mr. Judson to be a spy and agent for the British 
 government, and forthwith sent him, with other missionaries, to 
 prison. He was confined for a year and a half, sometimes in 
 two pair of fetters, and a part of his time with five pair of irons. 
 His sufferings were excruciating, and he would in all proba- 
 hility have sunk under them, if his wife had not made him daily 
 visits, although she lived more than two miles from the prison. 
 The food allowed to the prisoners was execrable, and all the 
 Europeans would have perished if she had not brought food, 
 dressed by her own hands, for their relief. She also made 
 applications to the king for their release, but for a long time to 
 no effect, but at last her eloquence and perseverance made an 
 impression, on " the monarch of golden breath,''^ and he be- 
 gan to think that she, and even her husband, might be honest, 
 and listened with some complacency to the appeals she made to 
 him to negotiate for peace with the British. These appeals, 
 written in elegant Burmese, were given to the king when no 
 one of his officers dared mention the subject to him. At length 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 281 
 
 he directed her to go to the English army, then marching on 
 victoriously under general Archibald Campbell, and prepare the 
 way for a treaty of peace. The king of Ava sent Mrs. Judson 
 with ail the honors of an ambassador, and the British com- 
 mander in chief received her in this character. 
 
 The writer of this article had the pleasure of being introduced, 
 some years since, to the gentleman, Captain Kerr, who was the 
 officer of the day, when she arrived at the English camp, and 
 was informed by him, that he never met a more intelligent, dig- 
 nified woman, than Mrs. Judson. She was careful to have every 
 point of etiquette regarded, not, as she said, for the wife of a 
 missionary, but as the representative of the king of Ava. She 
 came to every point in the business with great singleness of 
 heart and clearness of understanding. She gave the English 
 a better account of the court of the king of Ava, than they had 
 ever had from any other source. The treaty was made through 
 her influence, and even that proud monarch did not hesitate to 
 acknowledge her merits. After this peace, Mr. Judson settled 
 in a new town on the Salwen river ; but she did not live long 
 to enjoy the blessings of quiet, which she so ardently desired ; 
 and in the absence of her husband, she died there, on the twen- 
 ty-fourth of October, 1826, of a fever. Her daughter, then an 
 infant, survived her but a short time. Her son, her first child, 
 had died at Rangoon and was buried there. Her grave, which 
 is under a large tree, called the hopia, will be hereafter visited 
 by Christian missionaries, as a place made sacred by the ashes 
 of a woman of no ordinary character. She was enlightened, 
 pious, and brave ; she took up the cross, and bore it admirably; 
 she had no childish whinings in her nature, nor ever made any 
 attempts to excite commiseration at her hard fate. She proba- 
 bly lived as long, and did as much, as she ever expected, and 
 died in all the hopes of her religion. Such a woman, ahhough 
 we may grieve to think that she was called away so soon, is 
 more to be envied than pitied. If she had lived in legendary 
 instead of historical times, she would have ranked with Saint 
 Agnes and Saint Cecilia; but as plain truth is now spoken 
 
 of the good, the devoted, and the martyrs, she will be remem- 
 
 24* 
 
282 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 bered for ages, as one deserving of high praise in the churches. 
 For beauty, talents, dignity of demeanor, and perseverance, 
 Mrs. Judson has had but few equals. She acquired languages 
 with great facility, and used her acquirements to the best pur- 
 poses of her calling. She wrote with ease and elegance, was a 
 pattern of conjugal affection and missionary ardor. She was 
 chivalrous and romantic without being giddy or vain. She was 
 engaged in a great work, and she marched fearlessly on to the 
 death. She shrunk from no danger, nor turned back from any 
 peril. She saw martyrdom before her, but it was surrounded 
 by beatific visions. She saw the seeds of the gospel planted in 
 a heathen land, and she believed, that, if it was long in spring- 
 ing up, that it would in time flourish, and break asunder the 
 chains of superstition and horrid fanaticism. To her imagina- 
 tion, always chaste and never unreasonable, she saw the car of 
 Juggernaut broken into ten thousand pieces, the suttee no longer 
 practised, and the worship of idols give place to devotion in 
 temples erected to the only living and true God. 
 
 Judith, the daughter of a king of France, was the wife of 
 Ethelwulph, a Saxon king of England, Avho had several sons 
 by a former marriage, among whom was Alfred, afterwards sur- 
 named the Great. At that period, 886, of the Christian era, the 
 sons of the king could not read ; yet some of them, particularly 
 Alfred, traveled with his father to Rome, and was with him when 
 he went to France to marry Judith. Alfred was a sprightly boy, 
 and, perhaps, his ignorance of letters was not then known ; but 
 his step mother, a shrewd and an enlightened woman, on her 
 coming to England, soon discovered the want of education in 
 the sons. When she was one day reading a poem in manu- 
 script, and the boys were admiring its covering and gilding, 
 she offered it to him among them who would first learn to read 
 it. The elder did not think the prize Avorth the exertion ; but 
 this was Alfred's determination. He sought, and although he 
 was only twelve years old, he soon mastered the poem, and 
 came to Judith for the prize. She examined him and found him 
 able to read and understand the whole subject, and gave him 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 283 
 
 the manuscript according to her promise. From this hour he be- 
 came a laborious student, and in process of time, a very learned 
 man, and an author upon many subjects which required great 
 acuteness of mind as well as extensive attainments in knowledge. 
 As soon as Alfred ascended the throne, and was at peace in his 
 dominions, he spared no pains to establish institutions of learn- 
 ing in the island. From a taste for letters in Judith, she made 
 Alfred a scholar, and planted the seeds of knowledge in Eng- 
 land ; a nation, which now claims to be the great teacher of 
 mankind, not only in poetry, but in every branch of informa- 
 tion that is known in the world. After the death of Ethel wulph, 
 she married his brother, who had ascended the throne, but finding 
 this was against the Romish law, although consistent with Saxon 
 usage, she was separated from him ; and returning to France, 
 married Baldwin, named, " The Arm of Iron," for his military 
 prowess. He was created, by her father, count of the empire. 
 With him she had great influence, for he loved her sincerely, 
 another proof that the silken cords of affection can bind the arm 
 of iron, or break the fetters of brass. She died in a good old 
 age. There is not a hint given by a mother to a child, but has 
 its use in the after life of that child, and the older he grows, the 
 more distinctly will he remember the value of those parents. Ail 
 other opinions have incorporated- with them something of pride 
 and selfishness, but a mother's advice to infancy is free from all 
 alloy. 
 
 Lucia Knox, the wife of Major-general Henry Knox, of 
 the revolutionary army, w^as the daughter of J. Fluker, Esquire, 
 secretary of the province of Massachusetts bay. Her father 
 took part, as was natural, with the mother country, but before 
 hostilities had commenced his daughter had become engaged to 
 be married to Major Knox, then a citizen of Boston. Knox was 
 bred a book-binder in Boston, and after closing his apprentice- 
 ship, he, in connection with his bindery, opened a book store, and 
 kept a general assortment of books and stationary. Major 
 Adino Paddock had commanded a company of artillery, in fact 
 then the only one in Boston, but fearing the gathering storm, he 
 
284 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 resigned his commission, and recommended Henry Knox as 
 commander. He was accordingly elected. He was made for 
 an officer. Of colossal size and martial port, he " was the ob- 
 served of all observers." Among the rest Miss Fluker saw and 
 admired the young officer, as he paraded his company in the 
 presence of the regular troops of Britain. She soon found his 
 book store, and made some acquaintance with its master. She 
 found Knox one of nature's noblemen, and they were soon 
 married. She had engaged to follow his fortunes if a war 
 broke out, and when the event happened she was as good as her 
 word. Her family removed, and in fact left the country, soon 
 after the battle of Lexington, but Mrs. Knox with her husband 
 joined the army of Washington, at Cambridge, soon after the 
 battle of Bunker Hill. He was now devoted to the fortunes of 
 the war and Washington, and in 1776, when the corps of artil- 
 lery was formed, Knox was, by the recommendation of Washing- 
 ton, made a brigadier-general. His wife followed in the train 
 of war whenever her health would admit her, and gave life to 
 the soldiers' quarters when indeed they were miserable enough. 
 No American lady did more to soften the hard features of grim- 
 visaged war, by the cheerfulness and amenity of her manners, than 
 Mrs. Knox. When the war was ended and the constitution of the 
 United States went into operation, General Knox was appointed 
 secretary of war, an office which he had for some time held 
 under the old confederation. And Mrs. Knox held a place next 
 to Mrs. Washington, and in fact was the adviser of that lady in 
 arranging every thing of ceremony. These females moved on 
 admirably together, the wife of the president was retired and 
 domestic ; Mrs. Knox loved all the show and management of 
 high life, and between them both matters went on as they should 
 have gone. Foreign courts were now represented near the 
 government of the United States, and men of taste and talents 
 gathered around her, as leading the ton in the newly formed 
 court, as some were pleased to call it. At the close of the year 
 1794, General Knox, from a necessity of looking after his own 
 interests, resigned his office and retired, with the friendship and 
 confidence of Washington, to his estates in Maine. A lurge 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 285 
 
 tract of land had came into his possession by his connection 
 with Miss Fluker, for what was owned by her family was con- 
 firmed by government to her and her husband after the peace 
 of 1783. 
 
 At Thomastown, in the bosom of the wilderness, they began 
 a most princely establishment. A large house, which their 
 French visitors called a chateau ; and if it had been prepar- 
 ed with a drawbridge and portcullis, the inhabitants of that 
 new world, would, at that time, have called it a castle. The 
 house was furnished with all the taste of modern refinement, 
 and an unbounded hospitality reigned within its walls, which 
 was carried on until the sudden death of General Knox, in 1806. 
 Mrs. Knox still kept up a genteel establishment, and entertained 
 her friends with true hospitality, and was active in her charities 
 in the neighborhood until her death, which happened on the 
 twentieth of June, 1824, having lived a widow nearly eighteen 
 years. She was the mother of ten children, seven of whom 
 died in infancy. In the school of such a man as General Knox, 
 and with so much tact and talent as Mrs. Knox possessed, she 
 could not fail of being an entertaining woman. Her powers of 
 conversation were of a high cast, and her mind was stored with 
 anecdotes of the most interesting period of American history. In 
 her person, Mrs. Knox was of large size, dignified in her man- 
 ners, and often awed when she failed to charm. She never for- 
 got her military life, and no one could forget that she had been 
 with those accustomed to command. Such a woman, probably, 
 had more influence on the manners of her age, than a dozen 
 generals could have had, however intelligent they might have 
 been, although no record of it remains. 
 
 Maria Anna Angelica Catherine Kauffman, an emi- 
 nent artist, was born in the year 1741, at Coile, in the Grisons, 
 was instructed by her father, and was no mean portrait painter 
 at eleven years of age. In 1766, she went to England, and 
 resided there seventeen years. During this time, she was inti- 
 mate with the first men of the age, such as Dr. Johnson, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Fuselli, and others of taste and talent. Her 
 
286 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Style of painting was delicate and effeminate, and all the criti- 
 cisms of her friends could not induce her to give boldness to hei 
 pencil. There was a sameness in her pictures from this cause, 
 that made them less popular, than those of less taste and manly 
 freedom. There was a vestal air in all her productions, that 
 seemed to say, " I will not indulge my fancy, nor grow warm 
 over my subject." Angelica particularly excelled in poetical 
 subjects ; her drawing was good, and her coloring attractive ; 
 but her poetry was arcadian rather than epic. She lived a long 
 time in single blessedness. She married Zecchi, a Venetian 
 painter, when she was forty years of age. She died at Rome, 
 in the year 1807. She was quite as distinguished for her 
 talents for music, as for her painting, but preferred to pursue the 
 former. At one time, she was inclined to profess music instead 
 of painting, but it is well she did not, for a hundred musicians 
 are found among females to one great painter. One is scientific, 
 and can be in a great measure acquired, without extraordinary 
 genius, while the other requires a felicity of touch, that may be 
 improved but never created. 
 
 Khaula, an Arabian heroine. Among this warlike and un- 
 settled nation, when the flower of any tribe went upon a distant 
 enterprise, some hostile neighbor would often attack those who 
 were left behind ; and thence arose, perhaps, the custom of the 
 Arabian women, even of the highest rank, attending their hus- 
 bands, fathers, and brothers, in their military expeditions, and 
 fighting often with a degree of heroism, not inferior to the fabled 
 achievements of the ancient Amazons. We have many instances 
 of the day being restored by them, after the men had fled, but 
 none more remarkable than the famous battle of Yermouks, 
 which proved decisive of the fate of Syria, and of the Greek 
 empire of the east. 
 
 The Grecians greatly otitnumbered the Arabians, and their 
 onset was so impetuous, that they drove them to their tents. The 
 chief women then took command, and made head till night 
 parted the combatants. The next day, they led them again to 
 the attack ; Khaula, sister to one of the principal commanders, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 287 
 
 acting- as general. In leading the van, she was beaten to the 
 ground by a Greek, when Wafiera, one of her female friends, 
 striking off his head at a blow, brought the heroine off Ani- 
 mated by the noble behavior of the women, the Arabs soon be- 
 came irresistible, and routed the Grecian army, whose loss, it is 
 said, amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand killed, and 
 fifty thousand prisoners. Khaula was afterwards espoused by 
 the Caliph Ali. 
 
 Laura, the wife of Heugeus de Sade, was a native of Avignon, 
 in France. She was born in the year 1303, according to the 
 calculations of the biographers of Petrarch, with whom her 
 name is connected ; and without his, probably, we should know 
 nothing more of her than of a thousand respectable dames of 
 that age, although her family was highly respectable. It so 
 fell out, that when she was twenty-four years of age, and the 
 mother of two or three children, that Petrarch saw her going to 
 church at midnight, perhaps on some gala day, when all was 
 parade and show ; and he felt an instant and endurable passion 
 for her, which is embalmed in poetry and prose. Petrarch was 
 then a youth of three and twenty, a scholar, a man of rank, and 
 a poet. It is not improbable that the fame of Petrarch as a 
 writer, had reached her ears. The family of Petrarch were 
 from Florence, and had several years previous taken up their 
 residence at Avignon, 
 
 Petrarch first saw his mistress on the sixth day of April, 1327 ; 
 and on the same day of the same month, 1348, she died. Their 
 romantic passion, or rather his romantic passion, for there is but 
 little proof that she ever very ardently reciprocated his flame, 
 continued twenty-one years, while she was living. What an 
 age of love ! The fuel which fed such a fire, must have been 
 the asbestos of the soul, perfectly incombustible ; or rather a sub- 
 stance made more pure, bright, and immortal, by passing through 
 the furnace. This was love at first sight. It was shortly after 
 he saw her going to church that the original of these lines 
 were written. The translation is from the all accomplished Sir 
 William Jones : 
 
288 FEMAJ^E BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 *' O ! well-remember'd day, 
 
 When on yon bank she lay, 
 Meek in her pride, and in her rigor mild ; 
 
 The young and blooming flowers, 
 
 Falling in fragrant showers, 
 Shone on her neck, and on her bosom smil'd; 
 
 Some on her mantle hung. 
 
 Some in her locks were strung. 
 Like orient gems in rings of flaming gold ; 
 
 Some, in a spicy cloud 
 
 Descending, call'd aloud, 
 ' Here Love and Youth the reins of empire hold.' 
 
 I view'd the heavenly maid. 
 
 And, wrapt in wonder, said, 
 ' The groves of Eden gave this angel birth ;' 
 
 Her look, her voice, her smile. 
 
 That might all heaven beguile. 
 Wafted my soul above the realms of earth ; 
 
 The star-bespangled skies 
 
 Were open'd to my eyes ; 
 Sighing I said, ' Whence rose this glittering scene?' 
 
 Since that auspicious hour. 
 
 This bank and odorous bower. 
 My morning couch, and evening haunt, have been. 
 
 Well mayst thou blush, my song. 
 
 To leave the rural throng. 
 And fly thus artless to my Laura's ear ; 
 
 But, were thy poet's fire 
 
 Ardent as his desire, 
 Thou wert a song that heaven might stoop to hear." 
 
 Through every day of his life, after this time, she was his 
 muse, and constantly inspired his lays. He did not feel the 
 passion as in the least degree criminal ; and, considering the 
 customs of society in that age, it was not so. He made no 
 struggle to subdue his feelings. Over her bier the lover 
 breathed his grief, in strains which have come down to us, and 
 which are now as fresh as if they came from the heart this hour, 
 for they are true to nature. Many poets have attempted to in- 
 fuse into a translation a portion of the pure spirit which is found 
 in the original of Petrarch, but few of them have, in any tolerable 
 degree, succeeded. There is something so kindred to love in 
 the soft tones of the Italian muse, that it is almost impossible to 
 impart it to another language. It was reserved for Sir William 
 Jones, at once to do justice to Petrarch, and at the same time, 
 
FEMALfi BIOGRAPHY. 289 
 
 to prove our own language to be as susceptible of poetical beau- 
 ties as any other. The amatory poets, as a class, from Anacreon 
 himself to Anacreon Moore, have been of but little service to 
 mankind. If they assisted to refine the world in the first in- 
 stance, they have since done quite as much to mislead it. The 
 passions are often inflamed by the amatory poet, without his 
 imparting one lesson to guide the heart or direct the imagination. 
 The love sonnets of Petrarch are, however, an exception to 
 these remarks, as some others may be. Not that we would chill 
 the sweet influences of love ; our wish would be only to regu- 
 late and restrain them. To destroy the passion would be to 
 immolate the imagination, and to degrade the character of man. 
 Fancy could not exist without love, any more than the earth 
 could produce flowers and fruits, without the elemental fires 
 which pervade all animated nature. 
 
 This passion is often more rich in thought, tender in feeling, 
 and profitable to mankind, in its griefs than in its joys. The mind, 
 penetrated with the loss of a beloved object, seeks relief in visions 
 of futurity ; and in every flight to the skies, brings to earth some 
 divine consolation to assuage the pangs of a wounded spirit, and 
 to bind up the broken heart. The elegiac muse is known to 
 every language, in every age, when there have been hearts to 
 beat or beauties to die. She has mingled her notes with those 
 of all the sisters. In the pathway of the bridal train the hearse 
 is met; in the pictures of life are the emblems of death; and 
 the Assyrian maids placed the tomb of their lost Adonis in the 
 groves and gardens of love. 
 
 Their loves, however unmanly in the hopeless lover, perhaps 
 did no harm. If this romantic afl^ection had not been cherished 
 by Petrarch, we should never have had any of his delightful 
 poems. He would have figured, no doubt, among the thousand 
 gallants and fashionables of that day, in the corrupt courts, to 
 which he had access, and where he w^as a great favorite, and 
 then have passed away, like other insects, that flutter about and 
 display their wings for a summer hour. From every life a 
 lesson may be learned, and even the dreams of the lover may 
 afford subjects for the deep contemplation of the philosopher. 
 
 25 
 
290 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Margaret Lambrun, a Scotch woman, in the service of 
 Mary, queen of Scots, as was also her husband, who dying for 
 grief for the sad catastrophe of that unfortunate princess, his 
 wife took the resohition of revenging the death both, of one and 
 the other, upon Queen Elizabeth. With this view, she put on 
 man's apparel, and assuming the name of Anthony Sparke, went 
 to court, carrying always about her a pair of pistols, one to kill 
 the queen, and the other herself, in order to escape justice. One 
 day, as she was pushing through the crowd, to come up to her 
 majesty, who was walking in her garden, she chanced to drop 
 one of her pistols, which, being seen by the guard, she was 
 seized, in order to be sent to prison ; but the queen, not suspect- 
 ing her to be one of her own sex, had a mind to examine her 
 first. She was accordingly ordered into the presence of the 
 queen, who demanded her name, country, and quality. Mar- 
 garet, with undaunted firmness, replied, " Madam, though I 
 appear in this habit, I am a woman ; my name is Margaret 
 Lambrun. I was several years in the service of Q,ueen Mary, 
 whom you have so unjustly put to death ; you have also caused 
 that of my husband. Now, as I had ihe greatest love and affec- 
 tion for both, I resolved, at the peril of my life, to revenge their 
 deaths, by killing you, who were the cause of both. I confess, 
 that I have suffered many struggles within my breast, and have 
 made all possible efforts to divert my resolution from this design, 
 but all in vain, I found myself necessitated to prove the truth 
 of that maxim, that neither reason nor force, can hinder a wo- 
 man from vengeance, when she is impelled thereto by love." 
 The queen heard this discourse and said, " You are then per- 
 suaded that in this action, you have done your duty, and satisfied 
 the demands which your love for your mistress and spouse indis- 
 pensably required of you, what think you now my duty is to- 
 ward you?" The woman replied with the same intrepidity, " I 
 will tell your majesty my opinion, provided you will please to 
 let me know whether you put this into the quality of a queen or 
 that of a judge ?" To which her majesty answered, " In that of 
 a queen," " Then," returned she, " You ought to grant me 
 a pardon." " But what assurance or security can you give me, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 291 
 
 that you will not make the like attempt on some other occa- 
 sion?" Margaret replied, *• Madam, a favor which is given un- 
 der such restraints, is no more a favor ; and in so doing, your 
 majesty would act against me as a judge." The queen, turning 
 to some of her council, said, " I have heen thirty years a queen, 
 but do not remember ever to have had such a lecture read to me 
 before;" and immediately granted a full pardon, against the 
 opinion of her council, and at her request, a safe conduct out of 
 the kingdom. 
 
 Louisa Labbe, La Belle Cordiere, born at Lyons, 1527, is 
 celebrated for her beauty, her talents, and her heroism. She 
 discovered an early predilection for letters and the arts ; her 
 taste for martial exercises is a still more singular trait in her 
 character. At sixteen years of age she left her studies, to follow 
 either a father or a lover to the seige of Perpignan, where she 
 gave proofs of her courage and military skill. Soon after this 
 expedition, she married Ennemond Perrin, a merchant possessed 
 of considerable property, who traded principally in cordage, and 
 who resided on his estate, near Lyons, in a house elegantly fur- 
 nished, to which belonged spacious and elegant gardens ; these 
 gardens joined a place called La Belle Cour, near which a street 
 was afterwards built, named La Belle Cordiere, in honor of 
 Louisa. Her house, in which she formed a large library of the 
 best authors, became the resort of men of letters, and persons of 
 distinction, who resided in or near Lyons. In these societies, 
 over which Louisa presided as the inspiring muse, every thing 
 was collected which could gratify the understanding, delight the 
 imagination, or captivate the senses. The charms, the talents, the 
 assemblies of La Belle Cordiere, excited jealousy, and provoked 
 scandal among the ladies of Lyons ; the writings of Louisa, 
 which breathed liberality, or, which satirized the frivolity and 
 envy of her adversaries, afforded a new provocation to their 
 vengeance. Women of virtue often risk much by unguarded 
 manners. The envious are eager to seize the most innocent 
 freedoms of those who are their superiors in beauty, talents, 
 acquirements, or good fortune. 
 
21&2 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 LucRETiA, a celebrated Roman lady, daughter of Lucretius, 
 and wife of Tarquinius Collatinus. Her accomplishments proved 
 fatal to her, and the praises which a number of young nobles 
 at Ardea, among w^hom were Collatinus and the sons of Tarquin, 
 bestowed upon the domestic virtues of their wives at home, was 
 productive of a revolution in the state. While every one was 
 warm with the idea, it was universally agreed to leave the camp 
 and to go to Rome, to ascertain the veracity of their respective 
 assertions. Collatinus had the pleasure of seeing his expecta- 
 tions fulfilled in the highest degree, and, while the wives of the 
 other Romans were involved in the riot and dissipation of a feast, 
 Lucretia was found at home, employed in the midst of her female 
 servants, and easing their labor by sharing it herself The 
 beauty and innocence of Lucretia inflamed the passion of Sextus, 
 the son of Tarquin, who was a witness of her virtues and indus- 
 try. He cherished this flame, and secretly retired from the 
 camp and came to the house of Lucretia, where he met with a 
 kind reception. He showed himself unworthy of such treat- 
 ment, and, in the dead of night, he introduced himself to Lu- 
 cretia, who refused to his entreaties what her fear of shame 
 granted to his threats. She yielded to her ravisher, when he 
 threatened to murder her, and to slay one of her slaves and put 
 him in her bed, that this apparent adultery might seem to have 
 met with the punishment it deserved. Lucretia, in the morning, 
 sent for her husband and her father, and, after she had revealed 
 to them the indignities she had suffered from the son of Tarquin, 
 and entreated them to avenge her wrongs, she stabbed herself 
 with a dagger, which she had previously concealed under her 
 clothes. This fatal blow was the sign of rebellion. The body 
 of the virtuous Lucretia was exposed to the eyes of the senate, 
 and the violence and barbarity of Sextus, joined with the un- 
 popularity and oppression of his father, so irritated the Roman 
 populace, that that moment they expelled the Tarquins for ever 
 from Rome. Brutus, who was present at the tragical death of 
 Lucretia, kindled the flames of rebellion, and the republican or 
 consular government was established at Rome, A. U. C. 244. 
 
 For more than twenty -three hundred years, Lucretia has been 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 293 
 
 another name for chastity ; yet singular as it may seem, a mo- 
 dern writer of great distinction, from the very turpitude of politi- 
 cal prejudice, has made the vain attempt to bring the character 
 of Lucretia down to an equivocal standard, in a work of classi- 
 cal fiction. Count Verri, solely from his hatred to republics, 
 and not from his love of truth, has made the great Atticus Pom- 
 ponius, among the shades of departed greatness, at the tomb of 
 the Scipios, put many cruel questions to that great mother of 
 republican governments, and by her evasions and silence, en- 
 deavors to impress the belief on the mind of the reader, that she 
 was convict by confession, of boasting of a fame that she did 
 not deserve. It is painful to think, that a scholar and a gentle- 
 man should, from a hatred to any form of government, go to 
 fiction, to raise a calumny that never was uttered by a Tarquin, 
 even in their rage for the loss of power. Tarquinius Superbus 
 lived fourteen years after his expulsion from Rome ; and he and 
 his family were constantly struggling to gain their kingdom ; 
 and yet no historian has ever stated that even that family ever 
 dared to fix a stain on the ermine of Lucretia's virtue. 
 
 Such slanders, created from the ashes of the dead, by political 
 malignity, and shadowed out in the richest robes of classical 
 taste, are enough to make every reader of history another Lucius 
 Junius Brutus, and to extort from his indignant soul an oath to 
 pursue with the fire and sword of criticism, the calumniators of 
 female innocence. But there is no great danger of the prevalence 
 of such vile errors, in this day of deep enquiry into the history 
 of past ages. While the eloquent Italian, with more than Tar- 
 quinian brutality, was attempting to sully the fame of Lucretia, 
 the German historians have wiped away all the foul asper- 
 sions that had been lavished on the sweetest poetess that ever 
 sang, the divine Sappho. She never fell in love with Phaon, 
 never took the leap of Lucate, and never offended the goddess 
 of the silver bow. It is now proved, that she has been mistaken 
 for another Sappho, who lived three hundred years after her time. 
 Whoever wishes to see a full account of this happy historical 
 elucidation, must turn to that excellent work, " Anthon's Lem- 
 priere," "article Sappho." The following extract is here pre- 
 
 25* 
 
294 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 sented as a curiosity in modem literature ; for in this day of 
 general reading, and philosophical, honest enquiry, every one 
 should have an opportunity to form an opinion of his own. Pa- 
 triots have suffered, and traitors have been crowned ; but time 
 has assisted history to set many things right. This could never 
 have been effected, as far as it has been, unless the doors of free 
 enquiry had been opened wide, and all invited to enter. The 
 following extract is from Miss Canfield's translation of the " Ro 
 man Nights." 
 
 As a sudden blast lashes the quiet surface of the deep into 
 fury, so the spectres, hitherto placid listeners, Avere driven into 
 turbulence and commotion, by these taunts of Pomponius, and 
 murmured like the coming tempest. Then, there appeared a 
 feminine shade, clothed in a long white veil, and running to and 
 fro, striving to excite compassion or redress, by imploring 
 screams and gestures of grief Anon she disappeared among 
 the phantoms, and again was seen flitting forth as the moon 
 shines from a cloudy sky. The crowd at length, in the pertur- 
 bation into which she had throw^n them, moved from her, and 
 she remained alone in the midst. Through her drapery that 
 fell to her feet, her delicate limbs shone like flowers through 
 the mists of the morning. But suddenly in a new transport 
 of grief and despair, she rent her veil, thus disclosmg the ex- 
 quisite whiteness of her well turned shoulders and throbbing 
 bosom. She then bashfully strove to assemble the torn rem- 
 nants around her, but her face was still left exposed. She cast 
 down her eyes, while tear after tear stole from their lids ; an 
 expression of deep anguish contracted her beauteous brow, from 
 which thickly flowing golden tresses fell over her milk-white 
 arms. How lively is the impression made on the heart by 
 weeping beauty ! As I gazed on her, I felt the thrill of tender 
 pity stealing from vein to vein, when I heard the ghosts w^his- 
 per the name of Lucretia ! . . . Pomponius, unmoved by 
 the disturbance of the multitude or the renown of the noble 
 Roman lady, approached her, and with firmness thus addressed 
 her : " thou celebrated consort of CoUatinus ! be not offended 
 at the freedom of my conjectures, since they sprang not from 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 295 
 
 scorn of thee, but from my most ardent love of truth. Now, 
 thou thyself canst unfold it, after our long* uncertainties and 
 ages of unsettled opinion." At this Lucretia, raising her dis- 
 consolate brow, cast a mournful glance on her interrogator. 
 She sobbed, and her bosom palpitated more tumultuously ; but 
 it seemed that the violence of her sorrow had choked her utter- 
 ance. A deep silence reigned around her, and the crowd, in 
 mute expectation, were awaiting her word, slike listeners around 
 a melodious musician, who pauses ere he commence his song. 
 But Lucretia continued in the same wild trouble, apparently 
 unable to speak for grief, or as though, in the throng of thoughts 
 which rushed to her mind, she knew not whether to explain or 
 to remain silent. At length her head meekly sunk upon her 
 breast, and, as if unable any longer to support her affliction, she 
 sank upon a tomb. We then might hope no more to hear her 
 deign to explain ; and Cicero broke the silence of disappoint- 
 ment by thus addressing Pomponius : " I know not, my Atticus, 
 why it is thy pleasure thus to wound the feelings of a Roman 
 matron with thy severe remarks ; thou who, with us, wast wont 
 to breathe only peace and kindness ? The shades of night 
 were, it is true, the only witnesses of the outrage she suffered ; 
 but the heroic manner in which her virtuous spirit abandoned 
 her injured body, disdaining to inhabit the profane abode, unan- 
 swerably demonstrates her innocence. See, Pomponius ! See the 
 large wound on her breast, that chaste fountain of her children's 
 nurture? That the ruthless steel should have thus pierced it, 
 IS not even that sufficient to silence invidious calumny ?" 
 
 Atticus replied : " rash as is the undertaking to enter the lists 
 of argument with thee, whom we justly deemed the father of 
 Roman oratory, yet I may tell thee, Tully, that here all alike 
 can judge of human events without the errors of human judg- 
 ments. And as thou hast been known to employ the illusions 
 of thy art to defend the guilty as well as the innocent, I may 
 add that thou now affirmest decisively in a doubtful case. I 
 therefore frankly confess my opinion, that the recital of Lucre- 
 tia is full of improbabilities." This assertion appeared to dis- 
 please Mark Brutus, a descendant of that Junius who withdrew 
 
296 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the dagger from the breast of Lucretia, and instigated to the 
 high and memorable vengeance that followed. But Pomponius 
 continued : " at least, if this fair dame, as she declares, was 
 menaced with death by her cruel lover, it was not in a desert Or 
 solitary place, in which she might have invoked aid in vain, 
 but in her husband's dwelling, that was full of kindred and 
 slaves, and, according to the simplicity and frugality of those 
 times, very small in dimensions. But to insure her silence, 
 Sextus, she says, atrociously threatened to place beside her a 
 murdered slave, as an ignominious proof of crime. But it was 
 as impossible to execute such a project as it would have been 
 easy to prevent it by a single cry. I grieve, for the sake of Lu- 
 cretia's glory, that she could discover no surer method of escap- 
 ing infamy than by submitting to the desires of her lover. How 
 singular a docility in this chastest of women, that she should 
 forget that instinct of resistance which hatred or terror teach, 
 and even suppress every accent of entreaty or alarm ! Still 
 more strange, that she, who could resolve afterwards to wash out 
 with her blood the stain her honor had received, should not have 
 resolved to perish rather than submit. And the royal youth was 
 neither ungainly nor brutal, but handsome and brave. He was 
 courteously welcomed by thee, Lucretia, and he supped with 
 thee, gaily and gladsomely; after which he was led by thy ser- 
 vants to the hospitable chamber destined for guests. Oh thy 
 ingenuous simplicity, to have been unable to read in his eyes 
 his dangerous passion ; and to have neither secured thy door 
 nor kept near thee some familiar servant, so that the vile seducer, 
 as if he had been a welcome lover, entered without obstacle the 
 sanctuary of thy frail virtue !" Brutus interrupted Pomponius, 
 exclaiming, *' why then did she reveal the infamy that she might 
 have concealed with impunity ! What madness, to provoke 
 against her lover a vengeance that must be fatal to him ! Yet 
 she was his accuser and her own betrayer; she alone published 
 his crime and insisted on his punishment. Had she been weakly 
 seduced from her conjugal faith, by an unholy passion, would 
 she have been so frantic as to criminate and destroy both herself 
 and the cherished object ?" Pomponius calmly answered 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 297 
 
 " those who lived in that age, Brutus, know that Sextus was a 
 presumptuous youth, who, instead of concealing, boasted of his 
 successful amours. And history tells us too, that when he direct- 
 ed his arts and attention to Lucretia, it was for the pleasure of 
 rendering Collatinus ridiculous, who had boasted of her supe- 
 rior charms and invincible purity. And the youth, vain of his 
 triumph, was full of the malicious desire of publicly sneering at 
 the too credulous husband. Lucretia knew the character of 
 her lover ; and when the intoxication of a guilty passion had 
 given place to reflection, she saw herself on the brink of a pre- 
 cipice, and the tardy remonstrances of honor impelled her to 
 die like a self-immolated victim, too proud to exist under degra- 
 dation, rather than to live burthened with inevitable infamy." 
 
 Then Brutus returned to Lucretia, and thus exclaimed : " Oh 
 thou ! who in life didst unfold in such words of sorrow thy 
 secret wrongs, why art thou silent now? why dost thou not 
 speak, and confound thy detractors ?" But ah ! at this address, 
 tears began to trickle from the eyes of Lucretia; she wiped 
 them with her veil, with which she strove to cover her face, 
 suffused with betraying blushes. In her distress, she seated her- 
 self on the ground, and hiding her face with both hands, her 
 head sunk upon her knees, in an attitude of contrition and perfect 
 wretchedness. At this spectacle, the shades looked at each other 
 in silent amaze ; and Brutus, with much emotion, then resumed : 
 " unfortunate that thou art, if thou wast innocent, to be thus 
 unable to repel the charges that darken thy fame !" The sad 
 Lucretia, rising, seemed to indicate, by her gestures, that she 
 was condemned to silence by some heavenly command. Brutus 
 then, wishing to console her, thus continued : " if, indeed, thou 
 wast weak in that night of mystery, thou wast magnanimous 
 the following day, and mayst boast of having founded our free- 
 dom, by the example of thy firmness." While Brutus continued, 
 in heart- stirring language, to relate the expulsion of the kings, 
 the triumphs of the people, and the several famous events of the 
 republic, I saw the cloud of grief leave the brow of Lucretia, 
 and a joy kindle in her smile, as the sky becomes serene and 
 sunny by the breath of the zephyr. Like a light mist, she 
 
298 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 gradually vanished from our eyes, leaving the spirits still in the 
 same suspense concerning her doubtful chastity. The crowd 
 however, discoursed variously on this adventure, covered forever 
 with the gloom of the oblivious past, and the impenetrable secrecy 
 of love. But now the stars were growing pale, and the dull 
 obscurity of night was receding before the rising dawn. Buried 
 as I was in that dark cavern, I should not have known this 
 change of the heavens; but as the mariner, while below, learns 
 the course he is steering, from the turning of the faithful needle, 
 so, by the wavering and fluctuation of the shades, their half- 
 dying voices, and their gradual disappearance, I was sure that 
 the light of day, forbidden to them, was prevailing on the earth. 
 I felt my way out of the gloomy sepulchre, only certain of my 
 existence, when I once more breathed the dewy breath of the 
 morning, and was saluted by the warbling of the early songsters. 
 These, gladdened by the return of day, with the dulcet rounde- 
 lays they carolled, infused a voluptuous delight into the bosom, 
 expanding the heart, and chasing the sense of care far from the 
 fascinated mind. 
 
 Janet Mc Crea, the fate of this young woman has excited 
 the sympathies of her friends, and the whole people of the United 
 States. She was the daughter of James Mc Crea, a clergyman 
 of New Jersey, who died before the revolution. After her father's 
 death Janet resided with her brother at Albany, who removed 
 to the neighborhood of Fort Edward. There are several 
 versions of this story of blood ; but the following is dravim from 
 an examination of all of them. August, 1777, is stated to be the 
 time of her death. 
 
 She was a young lady of twenty-three years of age, amiable 
 and well educated. She was related to one of the American 
 officers who was at Fort Edward, but on the alarm, given by the 
 retreat of the American army from the lakes, she had left her 
 home for a safe retreat in Fort Miller ; but when the American 
 forces thought it prudent to retire from that fortress to Vermont, 
 she did not think proper to go with them, and returned to Sandy 
 Hill, the place of her usual residence. Rumor after rumor 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 299 
 
 soon reached her here of the approach of the Indians, and she 
 knew not whither to fly. The whole country from the lakes was 
 in great consternation, and she set out for Fort Edward, with 
 some other females. Her fears were increased, for she felt no 
 confidence in either side. She was on American ground, but 
 was betrothed to an American, who had taken sides with the 
 British, and had gone to Canada, where he was made captain of 
 a company. The lovers had managed to keep up a correspond- 
 ence, and he was informed, when he reached Fort Anne, that 
 his inamorata was concealed in a house a few miles from Sandy 
 Hill. To go there himself would be dangerous to both, as the 
 woods were infested with scouting parties of American troops, 
 and he, as a tory, would have been harshly dealt with, if taken 
 by them ; but, to make all sure, he engaged a party of confiden- 
 tial Indians, to take his horse and go to her place of concealment, 
 and bring her to him in safety. The party reached the place, 
 and she received the letter. He urged her in his letter not to 
 hesitate a moment in putting herself under their protection, but 
 she had some sad misgivings. The Indians had been a terror 
 to that part of the country, and the tales she had heard in her 
 childhood, came thickly upon her distracted mind ; but the voice 
 of a lover is law to a confiding woman. 
 
 She put herself under their guidance, and they had proceeded 
 on their journey, she on horseback and they on foot, to near 
 a small spring, which may now be seen, when they were met 
 by another party of Indians, who had heard of tbe reward which 
 her lover had offered, or were sent by him, in his impatience to 
 see her out of danger. A quarrel arose between the parties of 
 Indians, which should have the reward, or at least, how it should 
 be shared, when an American scouting party came in sight, and 
 commenced a brisk fire on the Indians, who were thus dispu- 
 ting. They instantly fled ; but, unwilling she should be taken 
 by the scouting party, one of the Indians, while the others had 
 fled to the bushes, pulled the girl from the horse, struck his 
 tomahawk into her forehead, tore off' her scalp, and gashed her 
 breast, and left her under a huge pine. The scouting party 
 found her there in that situation, and they covered her body, 
 
300 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and that of an American officer, who had just fallen by the fire 
 of the Indians, as well as they could, with leaves and earth. Some 
 one of the Indians, with their usual regard to truth, made her 
 lover aquainted with the facts, and another proved his assertions 
 by exhibiting the scalp. He knew the long golden tresses of 
 Miss Mc Crea, and in defiance of all danger, flew to the spot to 
 realize the horrid tale. He tore away the thinly spread leaves 
 and earth, clasped the still bleeding body to his arms, and wrap- 
 ping it in his cloak, bore it to the first wagon he could find, and 
 there hid it from the sight of the world, until he could dispose of 
 it according to his affections. The driver was bribed to silence. 
 The lover sat by the wagon all night in a state but little short 
 of a quiet delirium, now and then rousing himself to a furious 
 determination to immolate the first Indian he could find ; but they 
 were all in their lairs. The morning sun arose, and the wagon 
 went on, he having determined to take the corse on with him 
 to some spot hallowed by the graves of others, and there deposit 
 the sacred relics of the beloved of his soul. But his neglect of 
 duty, and strange demeanor, caused him to be watched by his 
 superior officers, who heard something of the rumor, and they 
 discovered the secret, that the corse of Miss Mc Crea was in 
 the wagon. They instantly ordered the wagon to stop, and the 
 corse to be buried by the way-side, kindly allowing Captain 
 Jones to stay a few moments, " to see her decent limbs composed," 
 and laid in the bosom of the earth, a coffin having been procured. 
 The sfrave is about four miles from Fort Edward. 
 
 Captain Jones it is said, survived her but a few years ; and 
 this melancholy event is supposed to have brought him to the 
 grave. Perhaps the tragical death of this amiable girl has given 
 a degree of romance to her virtues and personal charms ; but 
 it is agreed, by all who knew her, that she was amiable, virtuous, 
 and accomplished. The tomahawk and the scalping knife have 
 nearly become extinct, as weapons of dread to the women and 
 children of our favored country. To our primitive mothers they 
 were something more than " air drawn daggers," creatures of 
 the imagination ; for on their blade and gudgeon were often real 
 gouts of blood. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 301 
 
 Elizabeth Ann Breese Morse, the wife of Jedediah Morse, 
 pastor of the first congregational church in Charlestown Massa- 
 chusetts, was born, September 29th, 1766, in Wall street, in the 
 city of New York. Her parents were Samuel Breese, Esq., and 
 Rebecca Finley, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Samuel Finley, pre- 
 sident of Princeton College. She was the only child of her 
 mother, who died a few months after her birth. She was mar- 
 ried to Dr. Morse at her father's country seat in Shrewsbury, 
 N. J., May 14th, 1789, and at once removed to Charlestown. 
 In that town Mrs. Morse soon became deservedly popular. She 
 entered into all the domestic joys and griefs of her parishioners, 
 with the true spirit of philanthrophy ; to do good was her prime 
 intent, and the good people of Charlestown reciprocated this 
 feeling, for she often wanted a sympathising heart, for she was 
 the mother of eleven children, three only of whom lived beyond 
 the age of two years. These are trials a mother only can know. 
 Mrs. Morse was the constant friend of the sick of every grade 
 in society, and her hand was open to the claims of poverty and 
 distress. 
 
 Mrs. Morse had the household affairs almost entirely on her 
 own hands. Her husband, besides his own parochial duties, was 
 deeply engaged in literature and politics. The French revolu- 
 tion had just burst out, when he commenced life as a married 
 man, and he, with most of the wise and good, saw ten thousand 
 evils abroad. He considered the altar as much endangered as 
 others in Europe did the throne, and he called aloud on all to 
 assist in stopping the current of infidelity now sweeping through 
 the country. At the same time he was anxious to diffuse correct 
 information among his fellow citizens, and among other things 
 he collected materials for compiling a geography of this country. 
 This was an arduous task, and he labored at it faithfully. It was 
 then no easy thing to collect information that could be relied on, 
 but he spared no pains, and was wonderfully successful in his 
 undertaking. While thus deeply engaged he wisely left his 
 domestic concerns to his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Morse Avas a woman of fine sense, of elegant manners 
 
 and friendly disposition. Her intellectual powers were not siipe- 
 
 26 
 
302 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 rior to her conversational talents. Her colloquial style was 
 elegant, easy appropriate and fascinating. She was acquainted 
 with all the passing events of the day, and made many judicious 
 observations upon them. She had not so many fearful forebodings 
 upon their results as her husband and his friends ; she saw a 
 light through the darkness, though it was only a glimpse that 
 any one had dared to avow. 
 
 They were so situated as to see a great deal of company, 
 from the time she became dame of the parish until she left xt, 
 and never did any one do more justice to her duties than Mrs. 
 Morse. 
 
 Dr. Morse was deeply engaged in the Middlesex Canal ; the 
 first of any importance ever made in the United States. It was 
 then a great undertaking to cut a canal through a rough country 
 for thirty miles, without any experience in such matters. Gov- 
 ernor Sullivan was the active agent for this public work. He 
 was one of the most energetic men of the age. Loammi Bald- 
 win, Esq., father of the present distinguished civil engineer, a 
 self-taught man, was the skilful engineer for the work. But Dr. 
 Morse, who believed in its utility, was the person on Avhom 
 chiefly rested the highest task of all ; and that was to persuade 
 the public of its lasting advantages to that part of the country. 
 At times they and the other directors became tired of their exer- 
 tions, and grew restless under their difficulties, which were not 
 a little enhanced by the animadversions of the ignorant, who 
 pretended to be wise — a formidable class in every community. 
 At this time they often assembled at the house of Dr. Morse, 
 socially if not officially, to talk over their embarrassments, which 
 was done in the family circle. Mrs. Morse, knowing the tem- 
 perament and dispositions of all those engaged in the great 
 enterprise, often entered into the conversation, rather to amuse 
 and enliven them, than for any other purposes; and Baldwin 
 has frequently said, "Madam's conversation and dish of tea, 
 removes mountains in the course of making the Middlesex 
 Canal." Dr. Morse had, at times, students in divinity with 
 him, and all of them used to speak of Mrs. Morse with respect 
 and admiration. They bore testimony to the amenity of her man- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 303 
 
 ners, and to the powers of understanding, as well as of her sin- 
 cerity and piety. 
 
 After thirty years residence in Charleston, Dr. Morse re- 
 moved to New- Haven, where he died in June 1826. She sur- 
 vived him two years, and died May 28th, 1828, aged sixty-one. 
 Her personal appearance was fine, until nearly the close of her 
 life ; both philosophy and religion had given a serenity to her 
 mind, that diffused itself around her. Her surviving children 
 are Samuel Finley Breese Morse, the president of the Academy 
 of Design in the city of New- York, a distinguished historical 
 painter; Sidney Edwards Morse, and Richard Carey Morse, 
 editors of the Spectator, a religious paper printed in the city of 
 New- York; all of them men of letters and talents, who are much 
 indebted to their mother for their distinction. 
 
 Mary Wortley Montague. Mary Pierrepont was the 
 
 eldest daughter of Evelyn, duke of Kingston, and lady Mary 
 Fielding daughter of William, earl of Denbigh. She was born 
 at Thoresby, in Nottinghamshire, about the year 1690, and lost 
 her mother in 1694. The first dawn of her genius opened so 
 auspicuously that her father resolved to cultivate the advantages 
 of nature by a sedulous attention to her early instruction. A 
 classical education was not usually given to English ladies of 
 quality, when lady Mary Pierrepont received one of the best. 
 Under the same preceptors as Viscount Newark, her brother, 
 she acquired the elements of the Greek, Latin, and French lan- 
 guages with the greatest success. When she had made a sin- 
 gular proficiency, her studies were superintended by Bishop 
 Burnet, who fostered her superior talents with every expression 
 of dignified praise. Her translation of the " Enchiridion" of 
 Epictius received his commendations. 
 
 For so complete an improvement of her mind, she was much 
 indebted to uninterrupted leisure and recluse habits of life. Her 
 time was principally spent at Thoresby and at Acton, near Lon- 
 don, and her society confined to a few friends, among whom the 
 most confidential appears to have been Mrs. Anne Wortley, a 
 lady of sense and spirit, and heiress of the Wortley estate in York- 
 
304 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 shire; She was the wife of the Hon. Sidney Montague, second 
 son of the heroic earl of Sandwich, who died in the arms of vic- 
 tory, during the memorable battle of Solebay, in the reign of 
 Charles II. 
 
 In this intimacy originated her connection with Edward 
 Wortley Montague, Esq., the eldest son of the lady above men- 
 tioned. After a correspondence of two years they were pri- 
 vately married by special license, which bears date August 12th, 
 1712. He had received a classical education, and had traveled 
 through Germany to Venice, in 1703, where he remained about 
 two years. For more than three years after their marriage, as 
 the duke of Kingston and Mr. Sidney Montague were both 
 living, their establishment was limited, and lady Mary resided 
 chiefly at Warncliffe Lodge, near Sheffield, where her son, 
 Edward Wortley Montague was born, and his father was prin- 
 cipally engaged in London, in his attendance on parliamentary 
 duties and his political friends. In his cousin, Charles Mon- 
 tague, Mr. Wortley found an able patron, who, as he was the 
 universal protector of men of genius, was strictly associated 
 with Addison and Steele. The temper of Addison did not admit 
 of unreserved intimacy, and Mr. Wortley had not to regret that 
 any man was favored with a greater share of his friendship than 
 himself 
 
 Mr. Wortley was possessed of solid rather than brilliant parts. 
 The soundness of his judgment, and the gracefulness of his ora- 
 tory, commanded the attention of the house of commons, where 
 he distinguished himself, as having introduced several bills, 
 which were formed on a truly patriotic basis. 
 
 Upon the death of Queen Anne, in 1714, Charles Montague 
 was immediately distinguished by the new sovereign, George 
 I, and created earl of Halifax. To the high honor of the 
 Order of the Garter, was added the important and lucrative 
 appointment of the first lord of the treasury. Mr. Wortley 
 was now a confidential supporter of the administration, and 
 became one of the commissioners, which circumstance intro 
 duced him to the court of George I., and occasioned lady Mary 
 to quit her retirement at Warncliffe. Her first appearance 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 305 
 
 at St. James's was hailed with that universal admiration, which 
 beauty, enlivened by wit, incontestibly claims ; and while the 
 tribute of praise, so well merited, was willingly paid in public 
 to the elegance of her form, the charms of her conversation 
 were equally unrivalled in the first private circles of the nobility. 
 She was in habits of familiar acquaintance with Addison and 
 Pope, who contemplated her uncommon genius at that time, 
 without envy. 
 
 In the year 1716, the embassy to the Porte became vacant, and 
 as the the war between the Turks and the Imperialists raged with 
 almost incredible violence, the other powers of Europe were 
 ardently desirous of a mediation between them. Mr. Wortley 
 resigned his situation as lord of the treasury ; and his appoint- 
 ment as ambassador, under the great seal, bears date, the fifth 
 of June, 1716. 
 
 Early in the month of August, the new ambassador com- 
 menced an arduous journey over the continent of Europe to 
 Constantinople, accompanied by lady Mary, whose conjugal 
 affection reconciled her to the dangers to be unavoidably encoun- 
 tered, in traversing the savage Turkish territory, the native 
 horrors of which were then doubled by those of war. Pope, in 
 his letter, written after she had left England, exclaims, "may 
 that person, for whom you have left all the world, be so just as 
 to prefer you to all the world ! I believe his good understanding 
 has engaged him to do so hitherto, and I think his gratitude 
 must in future." 
 
 It has been said that lady Mary was the first English woman 
 who had the curiosity and spirit to visit the Levant ; but it is 
 believed that both lady Paget and lady Winchelsea were 
 included in the suite of their lords during their several em- 
 bassies. While on her journey, and residing in the Levant, 
 lady Mary amused herself and delighted her friends by a regular 
 correspondence, chiefly directed to her sister, the countess of 
 Mar, ladies Rich and Thistlewhortle, both ladies of the court, 
 and to Mr. Pope. 
 
 The embassy to Constantinople was formerly of great com- 
 mercial importance, v/hen the treasures of the east were brought 
 
 26* 
 
306 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 by caravans to the different ports of the Levant, and the Turkey 
 company monopolized the merchandize, which now finds its 
 way to England by other channels. Added to his political con- 
 cerns, Mr. Wortley had the appointment of consul-general of 
 the Levant, which gave considerable influence and emolument 
 to the British mission. Previous to lady Mary's arrival at the 
 destined point of her journey, the ambassador and his suite 
 rested about two months at Adrianople, to which city the sultan, 
 Achmed III., had removed his court, from the capital of his 
 dominions. It was there she first became acquainted with the 
 customs of the Turks, and was enabled to give so lively and 
 just a picture of their domestic manners, and usages of cere- 
 mony in her celebrated letters. 
 
 When she arrived at Constantinople, her active mind was 
 readily engaged in the pursuit of objects so novel as those which 
 the Turkish capital presented. While they excited her imagi- 
 nation, she could satisfy her curiosity, in her ideas of its former 
 splendor as the metropolis of the Roman empire. Her classical 
 acquirements rendered such investigations interesting and suc- 
 cessful. Among her other talents was an extraordinary facility 
 in learning languages ; and in the assemblage of ten embassies 
 from different countries, of which the society at Pera and Bel- 
 grade was composed, she had daily opportunities of extending 
 her knowledge and practise of them. The French and Italian 
 were familiar to her before she left England : and we find in 
 her letters that she had sufficient acquaintance with the Ger- 
 man, to understand a comedy, as it was represented at Vienna. 
 She even attempted the Turkish language, under the tuition of 
 one of Mr. Wortley's dragomans, or interpreters, who compiled 
 for her use a grammar and vocabulary in Turkish and Italian. 
 Of her proficiency in that very difficult dialect of the oriental 
 tongues, specimens are seen in her letters, in which a transla- 
 tion of some popular poetry appears. 
 
 The heat of Constantinople during the summer months is 
 excessive, and the European embassies usually retire to the 
 shores of the Bosphorus, or the village of Belgrade, about four- 
 teen miles distant. In these delicious shades, and most beautifu] 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 307 
 
 forest scenery, lady Mary was happy to pass her days. No 
 English traveler visits Belgrade, without participating her 
 pleasure in her description, and inquiring after the site of her 
 residence. At present no part of the house remains, for such is 
 the fragility of Turkish structures, excepting their mosques, that 
 they seldom last a century. 
 
 There was a custom prevalent among the villagers, and, in- 
 deed, universal in the Turkish dominions, which she examined 
 with philosophical curiosity, and at length became perfectly 
 satisfied of its efficacy. It was that of ingrafting, or as it is now 
 called, inoculating, with variolous matter, in order to produce 
 a milder disease, and to prevent the ravages made by the small 
 pox on the lives and beauty of European patients. The process 
 was simple, and she did not hesitate to apply it to her son, at 
 that time three years old. 
 
 Mr. Wortley received letters of recall under the privy seal, 
 October 28th, 1717, which are countersigned by his friend, Mr. 
 Addison, then secretary of state. Pursuing their voyage through 
 the Archipelago, they landed at Tunis, and having crossed the 
 Mediterranean, arrived at Genoa, and from thence to Lyons, 
 and Paris. They reached England in October, 1718. 
 
 In a short time after her return, lady Mary was solicited by 
 Mr. Pope to fix her summer residence at Twickenham, and he 
 negociated with Sir Godfrey Kneller, for his house in that cele- 
 brated village. During Mr. Pope's intimacy with lady Mon- 
 tague, he requested her to sit for her portrait to Sir Godfrey 
 Kneller, with which she complied. His satisfaction with the 
 picture when finished, inspired the following extemporaneous 
 effusion. 
 
 "The playful smiles around the dimpled mouth, 
 
 That happy air of mystery and truth. 
 
 So would I draw, (but oh 'tis vain to try 
 
 My narrow genius, does the power deny :) 
 
 The equal lustre of the heavenly mind. 
 
 Where every grace with every virtue's joined. 
 
 Learning not vain, and wisdom not severe; 
 
 With greatness easy, and with wit sincere ; 
 
 With just description show the soul divine, 
 
 And the whole princess in my work should shine." 
 
308 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 From such a reciprocation of kindness, we shall turn with 
 regret, when we consider that the poet of Twickenham, did 
 afterwards, with unprovoked and insatiable asperity, blacken 
 the fame of a woman of genius, who avowed no competition, 
 but equality of talents, which was a crime not to be forgiven by 
 him. 
 
 The court of George I. was modeled after that of Louis XV., 
 and gallantry, or at least the reputation of it, was the ambition 
 and employment of the courtiers of either sex. Lady Mary 
 had the pre-eminence in beauty and in wit, and few follies passed 
 unmarked by her satirical animadversions, which were not 
 detailed in her letters to her sister, lady Mar, and other corres- 
 pondents, with inimitable raillery. But those who were de- 
 lighted with her sarcasms were not always secure from their 
 force, when directed against themselves; and she numbered 
 among her acquaintances more admirers than sincere friends. 
 There were many who, in repeating her hon mots, took much 
 from the delicate poignancy of her wit to add their own undis- 
 guised malevolence. In her letters she frequently betrays her 
 disappointment in the great world, and declares that her happy 
 hours were dedicated to a few intimates. In her retirement at 
 Twickenham she enjoyed the literary society which resorted to 
 Pope's villa ; and was received by them with every mark of 
 high respect. Her high birth, of course, entitled lady Mary to 
 the society and respect of her equals, but her influence in the 
 literary world attracted to her many of the best authors of that 
 day, who solicited not only her patronage, but her critical opin- 
 ions of the works, they Avere about to oflfer to the public. Among 
 these was Doctor Edward Young the celebrated author of" Night 
 Thoughts." 
 
 In the year 1739, her health declined, and she took the reso- 
 lution of passing the remainder of her days on the continent. 
 She left England in the month of July, and hastened to Venice, 
 where she formed many connexions with the noble inhabitants, 
 and determined to establish herself in the north of Italy. Hav- 
 ing been gratified by a short tour to Rome, and Naples, she 
 returned to Brescia, one of the palaces of which city she in 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 309 
 
 habited ; and appears not only to have been reconciled to, but 
 pleased with the Italian customs. She spent some months at 
 Avignon, and Chamberry. Her summer residence she fixed at 
 Louverre, on the shores of the lake of Isco, in the Venitian 
 territory, whither she had been first invited on account of the 
 mineral waters, which she found greatly beneficial to her health. 
 There she took possession of a deserted palace, she planned her 
 garden, applied herself to the business of a country life, and 
 was happy in the superintendence of her vineyard and silk- 
 worms. Books, and those chiefly English, sent her by lady 
 Bute, supplied the deficiency of society. Her letters from this 
 retreat, breathe atruly philosophic spirit, and evince that her care 
 of her daughter and her family was ever nearest to her heart. 
 No one appears to have enjoyed her repose more sincerely, from 
 the occupations of the gay world. Her visits to Genoa and 
 Padua, were not unfrequent ; but about the year 1758, she quitted 
 her solitude, and settled entirely at Venice, where she remained 
 till the death of Mr. Wortley, in 1761. She then yielded to the 
 solicitations of her daughter, afterwards countess of Bute, and after 
 an absence of two and twenty years, she began her journey to 
 England, where she arrived in October. But her health had 
 suffered much, and a gradual decline terminated in death, August, 
 21st, 1762, in the seventy -third year of her age. 
 
 Doctor Smollet, in a review of her works, says, '• The publi- 
 cation of these letters will be an immortal monument to the 
 memory of lady Montague, and will show, as long as the English 
 language endures, the sprightliness of her wit, the solidity of 
 her judgment, the elegance of her taste, and the excellence of 
 her real character. These letters are so bewitchingly entertain- 
 ing, that we defy the most phlegmatic man on earth to read one 
 without going through with them, or after finishing the third 
 volume, not to wish there were twenty more of them." 
 
 The era in which she flourished, has been designated by mo- 
 dern envy or liberality, " The Augustan in England," and in the 
 constellation of wit by which it was illuminated, and so honora- 
 bly distinguished from earlier or successive ages, her acquire- 
 ments and genius entitled her to a very eminent place. During 
 
310 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her long life, her literary pretensions were suppressed by the 
 jealousy of her contemporaries, and her indignant sense of the 
 mean conduct of Pope, and his phalanx, the self constitutors of 
 the fame and obloquy of that day, urged her to her cabinet and 
 a small circle of friends, effusions of wisdom and fancy, which 
 otherwise had been received by society at large, with equal in- 
 struction and delight. She read mankind as she had read her 
 books, with sagacity and discrimination. The influence of a 
 classical education over her mind was apparent in the purity of 
 her style, rather than in the ambition of displaying her acquire- 
 ments, while it enabled her to give grace of expression, and no- 
 velty, to maxims of morality and prudence, which would have 
 lost much of their usefulness, had they been communicated in a 
 less agreeable manner. 
 
 To lady Mary belongs the honor of introducing inoculation 
 for the small pox in England, a practice which saved annually 
 many lives. To her also is England and America indebted for 
 the weeping willows, which hang their pensive boughs over the 
 hallowed graves of the dead. In a basket of figs, which she 
 sent to Mr. Pope from Constantinople, a sprig of the Asiatic 
 willow was found ; he set it out in his garden at Tv/ickenham, 
 and from that twig, came all the weeping willows in England 
 and America. 
 
 Margaret, countess of Hamburgh, daughter and heiress of 
 Florent IV., count of Holland, is famous on account of a ridicu- 
 lous story repeated by many authors and compilers, viz : that 
 having refused charity to a woman, whom she at the same time 
 accused of adultery, she was brought to bed of three hundred 
 and sixty-five children. Several learned men have endeavored 
 to trace the cause which could have given rise to a relation so 
 extraordinary. M. Struik fixed upon the epitaphs of mother 
 and son, and in conformity to the dates which they bear, he 
 concluded that the countess was brought to bed of twins, on 
 Good Friday, 1276, which was the 26th of March. Now, as 
 the year then began on the 25th of March, there were only two 
 days of the year elapsed, when the countess was brought to bed, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 311 
 
 on which it is said, that she had brought into the world as many 
 children as there were days in the year. In fact, only two chil- 
 dren are mentioned in history, John and Elizabeth. The enigma, 
 thus explained, is only a common event, wherein there is nothing 
 of the marvelous. 
 
 Tarquinia Molsa, grand-daughter of Francis Maria Molsa, 
 was celebrated for her learning, her beauty, and her virtues. She 
 was highly esteemed at the court of Alphonsus, duke of Ferrera, 
 and honored with the appellation of singular, by the Roman 
 senators, who bestowed the rights of Roman citizens on her, 
 and the whole family of Molsa. Part of the patent runs thus: 
 " Though it be new and uncommon for the senate to admit wo- 
 men into the number of citizens, whose excellencies and fame, 
 ought to be confined to family affairs, are seldom of service to 
 the commonwealth in public matters ; yet, if there be any among 
 them who not only surpass the rest of her own sex, but even the 
 men, in almost all virtue, it is reasonable, that by a new exam- 
 ple, new and unusual honors should be paid to unusual merit. 
 Since, therefore, Tarquinia Molsa, a native of Modena, &c., re- 
 sembles by her virtues those famous heroines, so that she seems 
 to lack nothing, but being a Roman citizen, that this alone might 
 not be wanting to complete her glory, the senate and people 
 of Rome have decreed to present her with the freedom of the 
 city, &c." She v/as the wife of Paulus Porrinus, but losing him, 
 would never consent to be married again, although then young, 
 and without children. She gave such lively tokens of her grief, 
 that Patrinus compares her to another Artemisia. Besides trans- 
 lations from Greek, and Latin authors, she wrote some original 
 pieces, and was equally admired for her superior knowledge of 
 music. 
 
 Julia Moesa, grand-mother of the emperor Heliogabalus, a 
 great politician, and a virtuous woman ; who, though her ambition 
 was gratified by seeing him seated on the throne, chiefly by her 
 conduct and courage, strove to counteract the bad counsels of 
 Ms mother, and to jbring him back to common sense and duty. 
 
312 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 She saw that the Romans would not long bear such a shameful 
 yoke, and to retain the sovereignty in that case to her family, 
 she engaged the emperor, who still retained his respect for her, 
 to adopt his cousin Alexander Severus, for his successor. Thus 
 did the wisdom of Moesa second her ambition, and, while Heli- 
 ogabalus and his mother were massacred by the soldiers, she 
 attained a happy old age, universally loved and respected, and 
 the emperor Alexander Severus, her grand-son, has placed her 
 on the list of divinities. 
 
 Margaret, the Semiramis of the North, third daughter of 
 Waldemar, king of Denmark, was born in 1353; and at the 
 age of six years, was contracted to Haquin, king of Norway. 
 After the death of her father, she was unanimously elected to the 
 crown of Denmark. Her ambition also grasped at Norway, 
 and she afterwards marched into Sweden, deposed Albert, assu- 
 med the reigns of government, and was distinguished by the 
 apellation of the Semiramis of the North. 
 
 " The queen," says a French author, " was magnificent in her 
 pleasures, grand in her projects, and brilliant in her court. She 
 equalled, in the quickness and extent of her genius, the most 
 famous politicians. The king Waldemar discovering in her, 
 while yet a child, a surprising elevation of soul, and mental 
 resources, said ' That nature had been deceived in forming her, 
 and instead of a woman, had made a hero.' " 
 
 Though merciful, she made the wisest regulations for strict 
 justice, and to prevent offenders being screened from punish- 
 ment. Private oppressions and abuses she did away, and 
 decreed that all manner of assistance should be given to those 
 who were thrown on her coast by shipwreck or misfortune ; for 
 which acts of humanity, rewards were provided by law. She 
 renewed the ancient laws which had slept, and exerted all her 
 power to suppress piracies in her kingdoms ; and made such 
 regulations, as laid the foundation for future commerce. It was 
 in her reign that we first meet with the mention in history of the 
 copper mines of Sweden. 
 
 Distinguished at the same time for moderation, sound judg- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 313 
 
 ment, and persevering ambition, Margaret receives different 
 characters from the Danish and Swedish historians. The latter 
 were prejudiced against her, because she abridged the power of 
 their nobles, and favored the clergy; but she was excelled by 
 none in prudence, policy, and a true magnanimity. This prin- 
 cess died suddenly, in 1412, at the a2"e of fifty-nine. 
 
 Matilda, daughter of Baldwin de Lille, count of Flanders, 
 and wife of William of Normandy, afterwards king of England, 
 her relation. The pope granted them absolution for this mar- 
 riage, on condition of building two chapels, one for men and the 
 other for women. The first was erected by the Conqueror, the 
 last by Matilda. She is distinguished for working the famous 
 tapestry in wool, portraying the descent upon England. The 
 leaders have their different armorial bearings, and the vessels 
 also are party colored. There is a learned explanation given of 
 it, by M. Lancelot, in the eighth volume of " Memoirs de 1' Aca- 
 deme des inscriptions." On the walls of the chapel at Caen, the 
 one erected by William, figures of himself and Matilda were 
 painted. In 1700 the chapel was pulled down, but they had 
 previously been engraved by Montfaucon. 
 
 Mary Stuart, queen of Scots, was the third child of James 
 v., and his wife, Mary of Guise. That lady had borne him 
 previously, two sons, both of whom died in infancy. Mary was 
 born on the seventh of December, 1542, in the palace of Lin- 
 lithgow. She was only seven days old when she lost her father, 
 who, at the time of her birth, lay sick at the palace of Falkland. 
 
 The young queen was crowned by Cardinal Beaton, at Stir- 
 ling, on the ninth of September, 1543. Soon after her birth, the 
 parliament nominated commissioners, to whom they intrusted the 
 charge of the queen's person, leaving all her other interests to 
 the care of her mother. The two first years of her life, Mary 
 spent at Linlithgow, where it is said she had the small pox, but 
 the disease must have been of a particularly gentle kind, having- 
 left behind no visible traces. During the greater part of the 
 years 1545, 1546, and 1547, she resided at Stirling castle, in the 
 
 27 
 
314 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 keeping of Lords Erskine and Livingstone. She was afterwards 
 removed to Inchmahome, a sequestered island in the lake of 
 Monteith ; where, after reimaining upwards of two years, it was 
 thought expedient, by those who had at the time the disposal of 
 her future destiny, that she should be removed to France. She 
 Avas, accordingly, in the fifth year of her age, taken to Dunbar- 
 ton, where she was delivered to the French admiral, whose 
 vessels were waiting to receive her ; and attended by Lords 
 Erskine and Livingstone, her three natural brothers, and four 
 young ladies as companions, she left Scotland. 
 
 The thirteen happiest years of Mary's life Avere spent in 
 France. She was received at Brest by order of Henry II., with 
 all the honors due to her rank, and royal destiny. She traveled 
 by easy stages, to the palace at St. Germain en Laye ; and to 
 mark the respect that was paid to her, the prison gates of every 
 town she came to were thrown open, and the prisoners set free. 
 •Shortly after her arrival, she was sent, along with the king's own 
 'laughters, to one of the first convents in France, where young 
 ladies of distinction were instructed in the elementary branches 
 of education. 
 
 The natural quickness of her capacity, and the early acute- 
 ness of her mind, now began to manifest themselves. She made 
 rapid progress in acquiring that species of knowledge suited to 
 her years, and her lively imagination went even the length of 
 attaching a more than ordinary interest to the calm and secluded 
 life of a nunnery. It was Avhispered, that she had already ex- 
 pressed a wish to separate herself forever from the world ; and 
 it is not impossible, that had this wish been allowed to foster itself 
 silently in her bosom, Mary might ultimately have taken the veil, 
 in which case, her life would have been a blank in history. But 
 these views were not consistent with the more ambitious projects 
 entertained by Henry, and his uncles of Lorraine. As soon as 
 they were informed of the bent which her mind appeared to be 
 taking, she was again removed from the convent to the palace. 
 The tears which Mary shed, however, on leaving the nunnery, 
 proved the warmth of her young heart; and that her feelings 
 were not of merely momentary duration, is evinced by the fre- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 315 
 
 quent visits she subsequently paid this asylum of her childhood, 
 and by the altar piece she embroidered with her own hands, for 
 the chapel of the convent. 
 
 In no country of Europe was education better understood, at 
 that time, than in France. Francis I., who remodeled, on a 
 magnificent scale, the university of Paris, only followed the 
 example which had already been set him by Louis XII. The 
 youth of all countries flocked to the French schools. A com- 
 petent knowledge of Latin, Greek, Hebrew, mathematics, moral 
 philosophy, and medicine, could be acquired in France for 
 literally nothing. The cardinal of Lorraine, who was at the 
 head of the Parisian University, quickly discovering Mary's 
 abilities, directed her studies with the most watchful anxiety. 
 Before she was ten years old, she had made good progress in the 
 French, Latin, and Italian languages. French was all her life 
 as familiar to her as her native tongue ; and she wrote it with a 
 degree of elegance which no one could surpass. Her acquaint- 
 ance with Latin was not of that superficial kind, but too common 
 in the present day. The young queen's attention was likewise 
 directed to rhetoric, to history, and to the delightful study of 
 poetry, for which her genius was suited, and for which she 
 retained a predilection all her life. 
 
 In the midst of her occupations and amusements, Mary was 
 not allowed to forget her native country. Frequent visits were 
 paid her from Scotland, by those personally attached to herself 
 or her family. In 1550, her mother, Mary of Guise, came over 
 to see her, accompanied by several of the nobility, 
 
 Henry, to confirm the French authority in Scotland, was 
 eager to marry Francis, his son, to Mary. Francis, the young 
 dauphin, who was much about Mary's own age, was far inferior 
 to her both in personal appearance and mental endowments. 
 Tney had been playmates from infancy ; they had prosecuted all 
 their studies together ; he loved her with the tenderest aflfection; 
 It was not in Mary's nature to be indifferent to those who evinced 
 affection for her, and if her fondness for Francis was mingled 
 with pity, it has long been asserted that " pity is akin to love." 
 
 On the twenty-fourth of April, 1558, the nuptials took place 
 
316 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in the church of Notre Dame, with great splendor. Every eye 
 was fixed on the youthful Mary; and, inspired by those feelings 
 which beauty seldom fails to excite, every heart offered up prayers 
 for her future welfare and happiness. She was now at that age 
 when feminine loveliness is perhaps most attractive. It is not 
 to be supposed, indeed, that her charms, in her sixteenth year, 
 had ripened into that full blown maturity which they afterwards 
 attained ; but they were on this account, only the more fascina- 
 ting. Some have conjectured that Mary's beauty has been ex- 
 tolled far above its real merits; and it cannot be denied that 
 many vague and erroneous notions exist regarding it. But that 
 her countenance possessed, in a pre-eminent degree, the some- 
 thing which constitutes beauty, is sufficiently attested by the 
 unanimous declaration of all contemporary writers. Her person 
 was finely proportioned, and her carriage exceedingly graceful 
 and dignified. 
 
 Shortly after the espousals, Mary and her husband retired to 
 one of their princely summer residences, where she discharged 
 the duties of a wife, without ostentation. But the intriguing and 
 restless ambition of her uncles could not allow her to remain 
 long quiet. About this time Mary Tudor, who had succeeded 
 Edward VI. on the English throne, died ; and although the par- 
 liament had declared that the succession rested in her sister 
 Elizabeth, it was thought proper to claim for Mary Stuart a 
 prior right. But it was destined that there was to be another 
 and more unexpected death at the French court. Henry II. 
 was killed at a tournament, by Count Montgomery. Francis 
 and Mary succeeded to the throne. Mary was now at the very 
 height of European grandeur, for she was queen of two powerful 
 countries, and heir presumptive of a third. She stood unluckily 
 on too high a pinnacle to be able to retain her position long. 
 Francis died after a short reign of seventeen months, and the 
 heir to the throne, Charles IX. being a minor, Catharine de 
 Medicis became once more virtually queen of France ; and from 
 her Mary could expect no favors. 
 
 In August, 1561, Mary left France with tears, ana was re- 
 ceived in Scotland with every mark of respect. She came alone 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 317 
 
 and unprotected, to assume the government of a country which 
 had long been distinguished for its rebellious turbulence. Con- 
 trasted too with her former situation, that which she was now 
 about to fill appeared particularly formidable. By whatever 
 counsel she acted, the blame of all unpopular measures would 
 be sure to rest Avith her. If she favored the protestants, the 
 catholics were sure to renounce her, and if she assisted the 
 catholics, the protestants would be again found assembling at 
 Perth, listening, with arms in their hands, to the sermons of 
 John Knox, pulling down the remaining monasteries, and sub- 
 scribing additional covenants. Is it surprising, then, that she 
 found it difficult to steer her course between the rocks of Scylla 
 and the whirlpools of Charybdis ? If misfortunes ultimately 
 overtook her, the wonder unquestionably ought to be, not that 
 they ever arrived, but that they should have been guarded 
 against so long. 
 
 To further their political views, Mary's hand was sought for, 
 by princes of the several European courts. The princes of the 
 house of Austria, apprehensive of the ambition of France, wished 
 a union between the Scottish queen, and the archduke Charles. 
 Philip II., envying the Austrians so important a prize, used all 
 his influence to procure her hand for his son Don Carlos, heir 
 to the extensive domains of the Spanish monarchy. Catharine 
 de Medicis, jealous of them both, offered the hand of the duke 
 of Anjou, brother to her former husband and Elizabeth, the 
 artful queen of England, recommended lord Robert Dudley, 
 afterwards earl of Leicester. 
 
 Mary shunned all their intrigues, and followed the bent of 
 her own inclination, in marrying Henry Stuart, lord Darnley, 
 eldest son of the earl of Lennox. Darnley, at this time in the 
 bloom of youth, was distinguished for the beauty and grace of 
 his person, and accomplished in every elegant art; and he also 
 professed the catholic religion. Darnley' s qualifications however 
 were superficial, and abandoning himself to pleasure and the 
 vices of youth, he became gradually careless and indifferent 
 towards the queen, whose disappointments and mortifications 
 were in proportion to the fervor of her former sentiments Her 
 
 07* 
 
 4^ t 
 
318 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 French secretary was one David Rizzio, who Avas possessed of 
 musical talents, and to whom she became much attached. 
 Darnley became jealous of Rizzio, and he with a number of con- 
 spirators, took possession of the palace on the ninth of March, 
 1566, while the queen was at supper with the countess of Argyle 
 and Rizzio. The latter clung to the queen for protection, but 
 he was torn from her, dragged to the next apartment, where the 
 fury of his enemies put an end to his existence, by piercing his 
 body with fifty-six wounds. The conspirators put Mary under 
 guard, but she escaped, and by the aid of Bothwell and others, 
 she was soon enabled to put her enemies at defiance. This 
 event served to alienate Mary's affections from Darnley. 
 
 On the nineteenth of June, 1566, the queen gave birth to a 
 son ; an event more fortunate to the nation than to his unhappy 
 mother, whose evil destiny received aggravation from a circum- 
 stance which appeared so flattering to her hopes. 
 
 Darnley, neglected by the queen, and despised by the people, 
 remained in solitude at Sterling, but alarmed by the rumor of a 
 design to seize his person, he thought fit to retire to his father 
 at Glasgow. On his way thither he was seized with a danger- 
 ous illness. Mary visited him, and it is said prevailed on him 
 to be removed to the capital, where she would attend on him. 
 Kirk of Field, a house belonging to the provost of a collegiate 
 church, was prepared for his reception. The situation, on a 
 rising ground and in an open field, was recommended for the 
 salubrity of its air. 
 
 At two o'clock, on the morning of February 10th, 1567, the 
 city was alarmed by a sudden explosion. The house in which 
 Darnley resided was blown up with gunpowder. The dead 
 body of Henry and a servant, v\'ho slept in his room, were found 
 lying in an adjacent garden, without m.arks of violence, and un- 
 touched by fire. Thus perished Henry Stuart, lord Darnley, 
 in his twenty-first year, a youth whom the indulgence of nature 
 and fortune had combined to betray to his ruin. 
 
 This execrable deed gave rise to various suspicions and con- 
 iectures, which, while they glanced at the queen from her new 
 sentiments with regard to her husband, were, with a general 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 319 
 
 consent, directed towards Bothwell. A proclamation was issued 
 from the throne, offering a considerable reward for the mur- 
 derer. Neither the power and greatness of Bothwell, nor his 
 Ikvor with the queen, secured him from the indignant sentiment 
 of the nation. He had a mock trial, in which he was acquitted. 
 
 The queen, on a journey from Edinburgh to Stirling, to visit 
 her son, was seized by a party of Bothwell' s and conducted a 
 prisoner to his castle at Dunbar. Here he prevailed on her to 
 marry him, and on her subsequent appearance in public, she was 
 received with a sullen and disrespectful silence by the people. 
 
 The transactions which had passed during the last three 
 months in Scotland were beheld by Europe with horror and de- 
 testation. The murder of the king, the impunity with which 
 his assassins were suffered to escape, and the marriage of the 
 queen with the man accused of being their chief, were a series 
 of incidents, which, for their atrocity and rapid succession, 
 were scarcely to be parallelled in the pages of history. A ge- 
 neral infamy fell upon the Scotch nation, which was regarded, 
 from these circumstances, as a people void of decency, humanity, 
 and honor. 
 
 The discontented nobles confederated togfether and flew to 
 arms. Bothwell and Mary were unable to stem the opposition ; 
 she surrendered to her enemies, and was conducted a captive 
 to the castle of Lochleven. Mary had for some Aveeks suffered 
 the terrors of a prison ; of her deliverance there seemed to be 
 but little prospect ; no one had appeared as her defender or advo- 
 cate. Thus solitary, deserted and distressed, her persecutors 
 reckoned on her fears and on her sex. Lord Lindsay, the 
 fiercest zealot of the party, was employed to communicate their 
 plan to the queen, and to obtain from her a subscription to the 
 papers with which he was charged. In the execution of his 
 commission, he spared neither harshness nor brutality ; certain 
 death was offered to the unhappy victim, as the alternative of 
 her refusal. Thus urged, she yielded to the pressure of cir- 
 cumstances, and put her signature to the papers presented to her 
 by Lindsay. By one of these papers she resigned the crown, 
 renounced all share in the government, and consented to the 
 
320 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 coronation of the young king. By another, she appointed Mur- 
 ray to the regency, and vested hira with the powers and privi- 
 leges of the office. Pierced with grief, and bathed in indignant 
 tears, she signed the deed of her own humiliation, and afforded 
 to her adversaries the instrument of her abasement. 
 
 The people were not generally satisfied with the conduct of 
 Murray, the regent, and the deserted party of the queen began 
 gradually to reunite. Such was the disposition of the nation, 
 when Mary, through the medium of George Douglas, a youth 
 of eighteen, contrived to escape from prison, She flew on horse- 
 back, in full speed to Hamilton, where, before a train of great 
 and splendid nobles, and an army six thousand strong, she de- 
 clared that the deeds signed by her, during her imprisonment, 
 and the resignation of her crown, were extorted from her by 
 fear. An engagement between her forces and those of Murray 
 took plaQe at Hamilton ; her army was defeated. She stood on 
 a hill, and saw all that passed. In confusion and horror she 
 began her flight, and so terrible was the trepidation of her 
 spirits, that she stopped not till she reached the abbey of Dun- 
 renan, in Galloway, full sixty Scottish miles from the field of 
 battle. In the space of eleven days she had beheld herself a 
 prisoner, at the mercy of her greatest enemies ; at the head of a 
 powerful army, with a numerous train of nobles devoted to her 
 service ; and a fugitive, at the hazard of her life, driven, with a 
 few attendants, to lurk in a corner of her kingdom. Still 
 anxious and agitated in her retreat, she was impelled by her 
 fears to an irretrievable step, fatal to all her future hopes. In 
 vain her attendants, with the lords Herries and Heming, im- 
 plored her on their knees not to confide in Elizabeth, her reso- 
 lution was not to be shaken, and to England she fatally resolved 
 to fly. No longer an object of jealousy, but compassion, Mary 
 trusted in the generosity of a sister queen, that she would not 
 take advantage of her calamitous situation. She got into a fish- 
 erman's boat, and with about twenty attendants, landed at Wor- 
 kington, in Cumberland, whence, with marks of respect, she was 
 conducted to Carlisle. 
 
 She addressed, on her arrival in England, a letter to the queen, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 321 
 
 in which she painted, in glowing colors, the injuries she had 
 sustained, and implored the sympathy and assistance which her 
 present situation so pressingly required. Elizabeth and her 
 council deliberated upon the measure, which, on this extraor- 
 dinary event, it would be proper to pursue ; and at last deter- 
 mined, in spite of justice and humanity, to avail herself of the 
 advantages given her by the confidence of her rival. Mary 
 demanded a personal interview with Elizabeth, but this honor 
 she was told must be denied to her. She had no intention of 
 acknowledging superiority in the queen of England, who, she 
 expected would, as a friend, herself receive and examine her 
 defences. But Elizabeth chose to consider herself as umpire 
 between the Scottish queen and her subjects ; and she prepared 
 to appoint commissioners to hear the pleadings of both parties, 
 and wrote to the regent of Scotland, to empower proper persons 
 to appear, in his name, and produce what could be alledged in 
 vindication of his proceedings, 
 
 Mary, who had hitherto relied on the professions of Elizabeth, 
 was by this proposal at once undeceived, and she was, in despite 
 of her remonstrances and complaints, conducted to Bolton, a 
 castle of lord Scroop, on the borders of Yorkshire. Commis- 
 sioners met on both sides, and after protracted deliberations for 
 four months, they left things just as they found them. 
 
 The last eighteen years of Mary's life were spent in impris- 
 onment, and are comparatively a blank in her personal history. 
 She was transported, at intervals, from castle to castle, and was 
 intrusted sometimes to the charge of one nobleman, and some- 
 times to another ; but for her the active scenes of life were past; 
 the splendor and dignit}?- of a throne were to be enjoyed no 
 longer ; the sceptre of her native country was never more to 
 grace her hands ; her will ceased to influence a nation ; her voice 
 did not travel beyond the walls that witnessed her confinement. 
 She came into England at the age of twenty -five, in the prime 
 of womanhood, the full vigor of health, and the rapidly ripening 
 strength of her intellectual powers. She was there destined to 
 feel, in all its bitterness, that " hope delayed maketh the heart 
 sick," Year after year passed slowly on, and year after year, 
 
322 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her spirits became more exhausted, her health feebler, and her 
 doubts and fears confirmed, till they at length settled in despair. 
 Premature old age overtook her before she was past the meridian 
 of life ; and for some time before her death, her hair was white 
 "with other snows than those of age." Yet, during the whole 
 of this long period, amid sufferings which would have broken 
 many a masculine spirit, and which, even in our own times, have 
 been seen to conquer those, who had conquered empires, Mary 
 retained the innate grace and dignity of her character, never 
 forgetting that she had been born a queen, or making her calam- 
 ities an excuse for the commission of any petty meanness, which 
 she would have scorned in the days of her prosperity. Full of 
 incident as her previous life had been, brilliant in many of its 
 achievments, it may be doubted whether the forbearance, forti- 
 tude, and magnanimity, displayed in her latter years, do not 
 redound more highly to her praise than all that preceded. Eliza- 
 beth wished for some plausible pretext to take away the life of 
 the unhappy Mary, w^hom, though so defenceless, she regarded as 
 a dangerous rival. The duke of Norfolk made offers of mar- 
 riage to Mary, to which she consented, in case she should be 
 liberated. His scheme also was to favor the catholic cause, and 
 on its being discovered he was thrown into prison, where, after 
 six months confinement, he was liberated, on condition of his 
 holding no further intercourse with the queen. He was how- 
 ever arrested the second time, and executed. 
 
 A conspiracy soon after took place, through the blind affection 
 of the English catholics for Mary, and their implacable hatred 
 of Elizabeth ; that, while it proved fatal to the life of one queen, 
 has left on the memory of the other an indelible stain. It was 
 a conspiracy of two zealous catholics, to take the life of Eliza- 
 beth. The plot was revealed in confidence to Anthony Babing- 
 ton, a young gentleman of Derbyshire, possessing a large fortune 
 and many amiable qualities, whom the archbishop of Glasgow 
 had recommended to the notice of Mary. The conspirators, 
 through treachery, were arrested, and it is said, two letters from 
 Mary, were found with Babington. This was a pretext to repre- 
 sent these fanatics as the instruments of the captive queen. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 3.2$ 
 
 Determined that no circumstance of solemnity might he wanting, 
 suited to the dignity of the person arraigned, Elizabeth appointed, 
 by a commission under the great seal, forty persons, the most 
 illustrious in the kingdom for their rank and birth, together with 
 five judges, for the decision of the cause. 
 
 The unhappy captive, after the indignities she had suffered, 
 doubted not but that her fate drew near. Every moment she 
 was in expectation of ending her days by poison, or by some 
 other secret method. 
 
 The commissioners appointed by Elizabeth, arrived at Fother- 
 ingay, on the eleventh of October, 1586. Mary solemnly pro- 
 tested her innocence of the crime laid to her charge, and having 
 never countenanced any attempt against the life of Elizabeth, she 
 refused to acknowledge the jurisdiction of her commissioners. 
 " I came," said she, " into the kingdom an independent sovereign, 
 to implore the queen's assistance, not to subject myself to her 
 authority. Nor is my spirit so broken by past misfortunes, or 
 intimidated by present dangers, as to stoop to any thing unbe- 
 coming the majesty of a crowned head, or that will disgrace the 
 ancestors from whom I am descended, and the son to whom I 
 shall leave my throne. If I must be tried, princes can only be 
 my peers. However noble may be their birth, the subjects of 
 the queen of England are of a rank inferior to mine. Since my 
 arrival in the kingdom I have been uniformly confined as a pris- 
 oner. Its laws never afforded to me any protection. Let them 
 not now be perverted in order to take away my life." 
 
 Entreaties and arguments were urged by the commissioners 
 against the resolution of Mary. An argument used by Hatton, 
 the vice chancellor, shook, at length, her firmness. By avoiding 
 a trial, he told her, she was an enemy to her own reputation, 
 and deprived herself of an opportunity of making her innocence 
 manifest. 
 
 Unassisted by any friend or counsellor, Mary suffered herself 
 to be deluded by this plausible pretence, and fell into the toils 
 spread for her entanglement. Solicitous for the vindication of 
 her honor, she relaxed in the dignified firmness suited to the 
 rank of a queen, . . 
 
324 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 She made her own defence ; and her conduct before her judges 
 displayed the magnanimity of a heroine, tempered by the gentle- 
 ness and modesty of a woman. The judges were predetermined 
 to find her guilty ; the trial was a mere pretence to give a sanc- 
 tion to their proceedings; they were unanimous in declaring 
 Mary " to be accessary to the conspiracy of Babington, and to 
 have imagined divers matters, tending to the hurt, death, and 
 destruction of Elizabeth, contrary to the express words of the 
 statute made for the security of the life of the queen." 
 
 On Tuesday, February 7th, 1587, the earls of Shrewsbury 
 and Kent arrived at Fotheringay, and read in Mary's presence 
 the warrant for her execution, which was appointed for the 
 ensuing day. " That soul," said Mary, calmly crossing herself 
 "is unworthy the joys of heaven, which repines because the 
 body must endure the stroke of the axe. I submit willingly to 
 the lot which heaven has decreed for me ; though I did not ex- 
 pect the queen of England would set the first example of viola- 
 ting the sacred person of a sovereign prince." Then laying 
 her hand on a bible, which happened to be near her, she so- 
 lemnly protested her innocence. 
 
 At the scaffold she prayed for the prosperity of her son, and 
 for a long and peaceable reign to Elizabeth. She hoped for 
 mercy, she declared, only through the death of Christ, at the 
 foot of whose image she willingly shed her blood. With intrepid 
 calmness, she laid her neck on the block ; her hands were held 
 by one executioner, while the other, with two blows, dissevered 
 her head from her body. "So perish all the enemies of Eliza- 
 beth!" exclaimed the dean, as he held up the streaming head. 
 " Amen," answered the earl of Kent alone ; every other eye was 
 drowned in tears ; every other voice was stifled in commisera- 
 tion. Thus, after a life of forty-four years and two months, 
 nineteen years of which had been passed in captivity, perished 
 the lovely and unfortunate Mary, queen of Scots. 
 
 Mary, Glueen of Hungary, was sister to the emperor Charles 
 v., and married, in 1521 to Lewis, king of Hungary, who was 
 soon after slain at the battle of Mohatz. His widow was ap- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 32S 
 
 pointed governess of the low countries, in 1531, and in that sta- 
 tion behaved with great courage and prudence. She headed 
 the troops in several actions, and was so fond of hunting, as to 
 be called Diana, and the huntress. She was a favorer of the 
 protestants, and had a taste for literature. Between her and 
 Henry II., king of France, there was a great animosity, and she 
 greatly ravaged the French provinces. Henry, on his part, 
 invaded Flanders and destroyed Mary's palace, who in return 
 carried her devastations into Picardy. The Spanish soldiers 
 called her the mother of the camp. She resigned the govern- 
 ment in 1555, and died in Spain in 1558. 
 
 Clara Cantarini Matraini, was of a noble family of 
 Lucca, and one of the best poets of her time. She was living 
 in 1562. Her style is said to be pure, correct, and full of force 
 and elegance : her ideas clear, noble, and ingenious ; and she 
 particularly excels as a lyrist. Many of her pieces were printed 
 at Venice, in 1560. Many others were subjoined to her letters, 
 which were printed at Lucca, 1 595. In these she appears well 
 instructed in sacred history, and in theology in general ; one of 
 them, to her son, contains many useful maxims of manners and 
 conduct. Her " Christian Meditations," mixed with very beau- 
 tiful scraps of poetry, and concluded by a female's ode to the 
 Almighty, were also printed there. She also wrote a life of 
 the Virgin Mary, in which are many pieces of poetry ; others 
 are found in different collections. She was well skilled in the 
 Platonic philosophy, was generally esteemed by the literati of 
 that age, and corresponded with many of them. 
 
 Judith Murray, wife of John Murray, the first Universalist 
 preacher in the United States, was born at Gloucester, Cape 
 Ann, a town in the county of Essex, and commonwealth of Mas- 
 sachusetts, in the year 1751. She was the daughter of Ignatus 
 Sargent, a merchant of Cape Ann, who was appointed governor 
 of Mississippi, after that portion of country was erected into a 
 territory. Her connection was truly a love match ; for Mr. 
 
 Murray was ten years older than herself; \vas an unsettled 
 
 28 
 
326 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 preacher of a strange doctrine, which was execrated by almost the 
 whole community. He was a widower too, and his prospects 
 were most gloomy ; but he was facetious, playful, ready in 
 conversation, and affectionate in his disposition, and early gave 
 her the preference to any one he had seen in this country. She 
 too had broken from the pale of orthodoxy before she saw him, 
 in thought, if not in word ; and her kindred were all liberal in 
 their religious creeds. Miss Sargent had the best education 
 that could be had at that time. Mr. M array, after the close of 
 the revolution, in a good part of which he acted as chaplain, 
 settled in Boston, and was a popular preacher for many years. 
 He had his faith tried most severely, for he was as helpless as 
 a child for several years before his death ; but his mind was as 
 serene as a vernal morn, and he waited his entering into his 
 rest without a murmur or a sigh. There is no creed but might 
 be proved by the serenity and hopes of a death bed. 
 
 Mrs. Murray was one of those women who dared use her 
 senses and her pen, when in this country it was almost a crime 
 for a woman to be an author. As early as 1798, she wr®te the 
 •' Repository and Gleaner," three volumes. They were first pub- 
 lished in the Massachusetts Magazine, with the signature of 
 " Constantia." She also wrote poetical essays, " Honora Mar- 
 teris," in the Boston Monthly Magazine of that day. 
 
 She wrote with ease and elegance, and would have shown 
 more genius if she had dared to come out boldly, as women of our 
 time venture to do, when they have talents and acquirements. 
 
 Every woman is in a good degree identified with her hus- 
 band, and it could not be driven from the minds of her readers, 
 that she was the wife of a universalist. Still there were many in 
 Boston who appreciated her merits, and spoke of her with re- 
 spect. She had an only daughter, whose education she super- 
 intended herself, and made her one of the most learned young 
 ladies of that " city of schools." Mrs. Murray found among 
 her own relatives and connexions, a highly intellectual society. 
 The Sargents are distinguished for taste and capacity. She had 
 fine conversational powers, and enlivened and instructed every 
 circle ?he entered. Mr. Murray died in 1815, after a long 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 327 
 
 sickness of six years. Her daughter had married and gone to 
 the Natches, and she now followed her. But the climate not 
 suiting an eastern constitution of her age, she died there, hut 
 not until a residence of nearly fire years. She departed this 
 life, June 6th, 1820, in the sixty-ninth year of her age. She 
 was a woman of most exemplary morals, of a strong under- 
 standing, and wrote with ease and elegance. In that day critics 
 abounded, but writers were few, and the judgment of readers 
 had not been so well informed as since. We are much indebted 
 to those writers, both male and female, but particularly the latter, 
 who ventured to write and publish forty years ago. They found 
 no partiality from men, nor hardly any mercy from their own 
 sex. We now look over their productions with great delight, 
 such as they are, and believe that if full scope had been given 
 to their g-enius, they would have been much superior to what 
 we now find them. Truly they were situated like the daughter 
 of the pilgrim mother, who was confined by narrow under- 
 clothes in order that she should not take pround strides, and 
 then was censured for mincing steps; but more unfortunate 
 than she, they had no one who with maternal solicitude would 
 come into court and explain the matter, and set all things right. 
 
 Olympia Fulvia Morata, a learned Italian lady, was bom 
 at Ferrera, in 1526. Her father taught the belles lettres in seve- 
 ral cities in Italy, and his reputation as a teacher advanced him to 
 be preceptor to the young princes of Ferrera, sons of Alphonso I. 
 The uncommon parts and turn for literature which he discovered 
 in his daughter, induced him to cultivate them, and she soon 
 made a very extraordinary progress. The princess of Ferrera, 
 was at that time studying polite literature, and a companion in 
 the same pursuits being thought expedient, Morata was called to 
 court, where she was heard, by the astonished Italians, to declaim 
 in Latin, to speak Greek, to explain the paradoxes of Cicero, 
 and to answer any questions that were put to her. Her father 
 dying, and her mother being an invalid, she was obliged to return 
 home, in order to take upon herself the administration of the 
 family affairs, and the education of three sisters and a brother. 
 
328 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 all which she conducted with judgment and success. She was 
 married, on leaving the court, to a young German physician, by 
 the name of Greunthlerus, who had taken his medical degree 
 at Ferrera, and had fallen in love with her, for her beauty and 
 talents. She went with her husband to Germany, and took her 
 little brother with her, whom she carefully instructed in the 
 Latin and Greek languages. They arrived at Augsburg in 
 1548, and after a short stay there, went to Sweinfurt, in Fran- 
 conia, but had not been long there, before the city was besieged 
 and burnt. They escaped, however, but remained in great dis- 
 tress until the elector Palatine invited Greunthlerus to be pro- 
 fessor of Physic at Heidelburg. He entered upon this new 
 office in 1554, and began to enjoy some degree of repose, when 
 illness, occasioned by the hardships they had undergone, seized 
 upon Morata, and proved fatal, October, 6th, 1555, before she 
 was quite twenty-nine years old. She died in the protestant re- 
 ligion, which she embraced on her coming to Germany, and to 
 which she resolutely adhered. Her husband and brother did 
 not long survive her, and were interred in the same grave, 
 in the church of St. Peter, where is a Latin epitaph to their 
 memory. Most of her works were burnt with the town of 
 Schweinfurt, the remainder were collected and published by 
 Ccelius Secundus Curio, and are to be found in the libraries of 
 the learned. They consist of orations, dialogues, letters and 
 translations. 
 
 Maria Sibylla Merian, much and justly esteemed for her 
 skill in drawing insects, flowers, and other subjects of natural 
 history, was born at Frankfort, on the Maine, in 1647 ; being the 
 girand-daughter and daughter of Dutch engravers, of some celeb- 
 rity, whose talents were continued and improved in her. She 
 was instructed by Abraham Mignon. She married John An- 
 duez Graff, a skilful painter and architect, of Nuremberg, but 
 the fame she had previously attached to her own name, pre- 
 sented that of her husband from being adopted. They had two 
 hildren, both daughters, who were also skilful in drawing. By 
 aberal offers from Holland, this ingenious couple were induced 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 329 
 
 to settle there. This spirited woman traveled on the continent, 
 and crossed the Atlantic to South America, to study nature, and 
 to make drawings from her entomological researches. Madame 
 Merion died at Amsterdam, in 1717, at the age of seventy. Her 
 daughters, Dorothea, and Helena, extended, in a new edition of 
 her works, the number of plates from their ow^n pencils. Her 
 works have been several times printed in French and Dutch, 
 and in French and Latin. Many of the original drawings of 
 this artist are in the British Museum in two large volumes, which 
 were purchased by Sir Hans Sloane, at a large price. The 
 father of this lady, Matthew Merion, published many volumes 
 of topographical engravings, and collections of plates in sacred 
 history. In Holland her works are sold, when found, at a very 
 high price, and their biographers are just to her memory. 
 
 Damaris Masham, a lady distinguished for her piety and 
 extraordinary accomplishments, was the daughter of Dr. Ralph 
 Cudworth, born at Cambridge on the eighteenth of January, 
 1658. Her father, perceiving the bent of her genius, took such 
 particular care of her education, that she quickly became remark- 
 able for her uncommon learning and piety. She was the second 
 wife of Sir Francis Masham, of Oaies, in the county of Essex, 
 Bart., by whom she had an only son, a laA^yer of considerable 
 eminence. She was skilled in arithmetic, geography, chronol- 
 ogy, history, philosophy, and divinity. She owed a great part 
 of her improvement to the care of the famous Mr. Locke, who 
 lived many years in her family, and at length died in her house 
 at Oates ; and whom she treated with the utmost generosity and 
 respect. She wrote " A discourse concerning the love of God," 
 published in London 1696; and " Occasional Thoughts in refer- 
 ence to a virtuous and Christian life." This amiable lady died 
 jn 1708, and was buried in the cathedral church at Bath, where 
 a monument is erected to her memory, full of just and affec- 
 tionate praise. The mind of the Christian philosopher was 
 infused into this example of industry and piety. This learned, 
 pious, and excellent pupil was worthy so distinguished a master. 
 
 Where Locke was there must have been intelligence. 
 
 28* 
 
330 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Julia Mammea, mother of Alexander Severus. She was pos- 
 sessed of equal genius and courage ; and educated her son for 
 the throne, in the same manner as Fenelon afterwards educated 
 the duke of Burgundy, rendering him at the same time a man 
 of virtue and sensibility. Severus thought so highly of his 
 mother, that he did nothing without her counsel, and paid more 
 deference to it than to that of any other person. This princess 
 having heard of Origen, wished to see him, and in the confer- 
 rences they had together, conceived so high an opinion of Chris- 
 tianity, that she is supposed to have embraced it. She was mur- 
 dered with her son, in Gaul, by the discontented soldiery. 
 
 Maria Theresa, empress of Germany and queen of Hun- 
 gary, was born at Vienna, the capital of Austria, on the thir- 
 teenth of May, 1717. Her father, Charles VL, was a man of a 
 slow and phlegmatic temper, a narrow capacity, and a grave 
 and formal deportment ; he was seldom seen to smile, and was 
 only once known to laugh. He attached the most extraordinary 
 importance to the observance of courtly etiquette, yet was not 
 without good sense, and the capability of strong domestic affec- 
 tion. He however appears to have had but two passions, hunting 
 and music. The imperial musician presided in his own or- 
 chestra, and his two daughters, Maria Theresa and Maria 
 Anne, danced in the ballet. It should not be omitted, speaking 
 of the character of Charles, that he was remarkable for a com- 
 passionate and benevolent disposition, for honest intentions, and 
 for an extreme aversion to all hypocrisy. These qualities were 
 not, however, sufficient to ensure either his own or his people's 
 happiness. His reign was, upon the whole, one of the most 
 disgraceful and disastrous in the history of the empire. 
 
 The mother of Maria Theresa, was Elizabeth Christina, of 
 Brunswick, a lovely and amiable woman, who possessed and 
 deserved her husband's entire confidence and affection. Lady 
 Wortley Montague, who visited the court of Vienna only a few 
 months before the birth of Maria Theresa, speaks of the beauty 
 and beneficence of the empress, and of her sweet and gracious 
 manners with a kind of rapture. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 331 
 
 The two archduchesses were brought up under the superin- 
 tendence of their mother, and received an education, in no 
 respect different from that of other young ladies of rank, of the 
 same age and country, except that they were kept in more strict 
 seclusion. Maria Theresa had beauty, spirit, and understand- 
 ing. Maria Anne was as lovely as her yister, but inferior in 
 capacity, and of a very mild and reserved disposition; both 
 sisters were tenderly attached to each other. 
 
 It does not appear to hav^e entered into the mind of Charles, 
 to give his daughter an education befitting the situation to which 
 she was destined ; he, indeed, admitted her, at the age of four- 
 teen, to be present at the sittings of the council, but he never 
 disclosed to her any of his affairs, never conversed with her on 
 any subject of importance, never even allowed her an opportu- 
 nity of acquiring a knowledge of the forms of business. While 
 she sat in the council, she was always silent ; but it was observ- 
 ed, that, however protracted the deliberations, she never betrayed 
 any signs of Aveariness, but listened with the most eager atten- 
 tion to all she could, and all she could not understand. The 
 only use she made of her new privilege, was to be the bearer of 
 petitions in behalf of those who prevailed on her benevolence or 
 her youthful inexperience, to intercede for them. The emperor 
 becoming at length impatient at the increasing number of these 
 petitions, said to her on one occasion, " You seem to think a 
 sovereign has nothing to do but to grant favors !" "I see 
 nothing else that can make a crown supportable," replied his 
 daughter : she was then about fifteen. 
 
 Her taste for music was highly cultivated. She studied Ital- 
 ian, with much success : but much of her time was ffiven to 
 the strict observance of the forms of the Roman catholic faith ; 
 and though she could not derive from the bigoted old women 
 and ecclesiastics around her, any very enlarged and enlightened 
 ideas of religion, her piety was at least sincere. She omitted 
 no opportunities of obtaining information relative to the history 
 and geography of her country, and she appears to have been 
 early possessed with a most magnificent idea of the power and 
 grandeur of her family, and of the lofty rank to which she was 
 
332 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 destined. This early impression of her own vast importance 
 was only counterhalanced by her deep feelings and habits of 
 devotion, and by the natural sweetness and benignity of her 
 disposition. 
 
 Such was Maria Theresa at the age of sixteen or seventeen. 
 She had been destined in her infancy to marry the young duke 
 of Lorraine, who was brought up at the court of Vienna as her 
 intended husband. It is very, very seldom, that these political 
 state marriages terminate happily, qf harmonize with the wishes 
 and feelings of those principally concerned ; but in the present 
 case "the course of true love" was blended with that of policy. 
 Francis Stephen, of Lorraine, was the son of Leopold, duke of 
 Lorraine, surnamed the Good and Benevolent. His grandmo- 
 ther, Leonora, of Austria, was the eldest sister of Charles VL, 
 and he was consequently the cousin of his intended bride. 
 Francis was not possessed of shining talents, but he had a good 
 understanding, and an excellent heart; he was, besides, emi- 
 nently handsome, indisputably brave, and accomplished in all 
 the courtly exercises that became a prince and a gentleman. In 
 other respects his education had been strangely neglected ; he 
 could scarcely read or write. From childhood, the two cousins 
 had been fondly attached, and their attachment Avas perhaps in- 
 creased, at least on the side of Maria Theresa, by those political 
 obstacles which long deferred their union, and even threatened 
 at one time, a lasting separation. 
 
 Charles died, October 20th, 1740. Maria Theresa was in 
 her twenty-fourth year, when she became, in her own right, 
 queen of Hungary and Bohemia, archduchess of Austria, sove- 
 reign of the Netherlands, and duchess of Milan, of Parma, and 
 Placentia ; in right of her husband she was also grand duchess 
 of Tuscany. Naples and Sicily had indeed been wrested from 
 her father, but she pretended to the right of those crowns, and 
 long entertained the hope and design of recovering them. She 
 reigned over some of the finest and fairest provinces of Europe ; 
 over many nations speaking many different languages, governed 
 by different laws, divided by mutual antipathies, and held to- 
 gether by no com.mon link except that of acknowledging the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 333 
 
 same sovereign. That sovereign was now a young inexperi- 
 enced woman, who had solemnly sworn to preserve inviolate 
 and indivisible, the vast and heterogeneous empire, transmitted 
 to her feeble hand, as if it had depended on her will to do so. 
 Within the first few months of her reign, France deferred, and 
 at length declined to acknowledge her title. The elector of 
 Bavaria, supported by France, laid claim to Austria, Hungary, 
 and Bohemia. The king of Spain also laid claim to the Aus- 
 trian succession, and proposed to seize on the Italian states ; the 
 king of Sardinia claimed Milan ; the king of Prussia, not satis- 
 fied with merely advancing pretentions, pounced like a falcon 
 on his prey, and seized upon the whole duchy of Silesia, which 
 he laid waste and occupied with his armies. 
 
 Like the hind of the forest, when the hunters are abroad, who 
 hears on every side the fierce baying of the hounds, and stands 
 and gazes around with dilated eye and head erect, not knowing 
 on which side the fury of the chase is to burst upon her, — so 
 stood the lovely majesty of Austria, defenceless, and trembling 
 for her very existence, but not weak, nor irresolute, nor in any 
 wise despairing. 
 
 Maria Theresa was by no means an extraordinary woman. 
 In talents and strength of character, she was inferior to Catherine 
 of Russia and Elizabeth of England, but in moral qualities, far 
 superior to either; and it maybe questioned whether the brilliant 
 genius of the former, or the worldly wisdom and sagacity of the 
 latter, could have done more to sustain a sinking throne, than 
 the popular and feminine virtues, the magnanimous spirit, and 
 unbending fortitude of Maria Theresa. She had something of 
 the inflexible pride and hereditary obstinacy of her family ; her 
 understanding naturally good, had been tinged with bigotry and 
 narrowed by illiberal prejudices ; but in her early youth these 
 qualities only showed on the fairer side, and served only to im- 
 part something fixed and serious to the vivacity of her dispo- 
 sition, and the yielding tenderness of her heart. She had all 
 the self will and all the sensibility of her sex ; she was full of 
 kindly impulses and good intentions ; she was not naturally am- 
 bitious, though circumstances afterwards developed that passion 
 
334 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in a strong degree ; she could be roused to temper, but this was 
 seldom, and never so far as to forget the dignity and prosperity 
 of her sex. It should be mentioned, (for in the situation in 
 Avhich she stood, it was by no means an unimportant advantage,) 
 that at this period of her life few women could have excelled 
 Maria Theresa in personal attractions. Her figure was tall, 
 and formed with perfect elegance; her deportment at once 
 graceful and majestic; her features were regular; her eyes were 
 gray, and full of lustre and expression ; she had the full Aus- 
 trian lips, but her mouth and smile were beaatiful ; her com- 
 plexion was transparent ; she had a profusion of fine hair ; and 
 to complete her charms, the tone of her voice was peculiarly 
 soft and sweet. Her strict religious principles, or her early and 
 excessive love for her husband, or the pride of her royal station, 
 or perhaps all these combined, had preserved her character from 
 coquetry. She was not unconscious of her powers of captivation, 
 but she used them not as a woman, but as a queen ; not to win 
 lovers, but to gain over refractory subjects. 
 
 The perils which surrounded Maria Theresa at her accession, 
 were such as would have appalled the strongest mind. She was 
 not only encompassed with enemies without, but threatened with 
 commotions within; she was without an army, without a treasury, 
 and, in point of fact, without a ministry ; for never was such a set 
 of imbecile men collected together to direct the government of a 
 kingdom, as those who composed the conference, or state council 
 of Vienna, during this period. They agreed in but one thing; 
 in jealousy of the duke of Lorraine, whom they considered as a 
 foreigner, and who was content perforce to remain a mere cypher. 
 
 The first war in which Maria Theresa was engaged, was 
 begun in self defence ; never was the sword drawn in a fairer 
 quarrel or in a juster cause. Her great adversary was Frede- 
 rick II., of Prussia, aided by France and Bavaria. On the side 
 of the young queen were England and Holland. Nothing could 
 exceed the enthusiasm which her helpless situation excited 
 among the English of all ranks. The queen of Hungary was a 
 favorite toast, her head a favorite sign. The parliament voted 
 large subsidies to support her, and the ladies of England, with 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 335 
 
 the ola duchess of Marlborough at their head, subscribed the sum 
 of one hundred thousand pounds, which they offered to her ac- 
 ceptance. Maria Theresa, who had been so munificent^'^ aided 
 by the king and parliament, either did not think it consistent 
 with her dignity to accept of private gifts, or from some other 
 reason, declined the proffered contribution. 
 
 The war of the Austrian succession lasted nearly eight years. 
 The battles and the sieges, the victories and defeats, the treaties 
 made and broken, the strange events and vicissitudes which 
 marked its course, may be found duly chronicled and minutely 
 detailed in the histories of France, England, and Germany. 
 
 Her situation at the commencement of the war appeared des- 
 perate. Frederick occupied Silesia, and in the first great battle 
 in which the Austrians and Prussians were engaged, (the battle 
 of Molwitz,) the former were entirely defeated. The French 
 army poured across the Rhine, and joined the elector of Bava- 
 ria. They advanced in concert within a few leagues of Vienna. 
 
 The young queen, threatened in her capital, looked round her 
 in vain for aid and council. Her allies had not sent her the 
 promised assistance ; her most sanguine friends drooped in 
 despair ; her ministers looked on each other in blank dismay. 
 At this crisis, the spirit of a feeling and high minded woman, 
 saved herself, her capital, and her kingdom. Maria Theresa 
 took alone the resolution of throwing- herself into the arms of 
 her Hungarian subjects. 
 
 Who has not read of the scene which ensued, which has 
 been so often related, so often described ? and yet we all feel that 
 we cannot hear of it too often. When we first meet it on the 
 page of history, we are taken by surprise, as though it had no 
 business there ; it has the glory and freshness of old romance. 
 Poetry never invented any thing half so striking, or that so 
 completely fills the imagination. 
 
 The Hungarians had been oppressed, enslaved, insulted by 
 Maria's predecessors. In the beginning of her reign, she had 
 abandoned the usurpations of her ancestors, and had voluntarily 
 taken the oath to preserve all their privileges entire. This was 
 partly from policy, but it was also partly from her own just and 
 
336 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 kind nature. The hearts of the Hungarians were already half 
 won when she arrived at Presburg, in .Tune, 1741. She was 
 crowned queen of Hungary on the 13th, with the peculiar 
 national ceremonies ; the iron crown of St. Stephen was placed 
 on her head ; the tattered hut sacred robe thrown over her own 
 rich habit, which was incrusted with gems ; his scimitar girded 
 to her side. Thus attired, and mounted on a superb charger, 
 she rode up the royal mount, and according to the antique cus- 
 tom, drew her sabre and defied the four quarters of the world. 
 The crown of St. Stephen, which had never before been placed 
 on so small or so lovely a head, had been lined with cushions to 
 make it fit ; it was also very heavy, and its weight, added to the 
 heat of the weather, incommoded her ; when she sat down to 
 dinner in the great hall of the castle, she expressed a wish to 
 lay it aside. On lifting the diadem from her brow, her hair, 
 loosened from confinement, fell down in luxuriant ringlets over 
 her neck and shoulders ; the glow, which the heat and emotion 
 had diffused over her complexion, added to her natural beauty, 
 and the assembled nobles, struck with admiration, could scarce 
 forbear shouting their applause. 
 
 The effect which her youthful grace and loveliness produced 
 on this occasion, had not yet subsided, when she called together 
 the diet, or senate of Hungary, in order to lay before them the 
 situation of her affairs. She entered the hall of the castle, habit- 
 ed in the Hungarian costume, but still in deep mourning for her 
 father; she traversed the apartment with slow and majestic step, 
 and ascended the throne, where she stood for a few minutes 
 silent. The chancellor of the state first explained the situation 
 to which she was reduced, and then the queen, coming forward, 
 addressed the assembly in Latin, a language which she spoke 
 fluently, and which is still in common use among the Hungarians. 
 
 " The disastrous state of our affairs," said she, "has moved 
 us to lay before our dear and faithful states of Hungary, the 
 recent invasion of Austria, the danger now impending over this 
 kingdom, and propose to them the consideration of a remedy. 
 The very existence of the kingdom of Hungary, of our own 
 person, of our children, of our crown, are now at stake; and 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 337 
 
 forsaken by all, we place our sole hope in the fidelity, arms, and 
 long tried valor of the Hungarians." 
 
 She pronounced these simple words in a firm but melancholy 
 tone. Her beauty, her magnanimity, and her distress, roused 
 the Hungarian chiefs to the wildest pitch of enthusiasm. They 
 drew their sabres half out of their scabbards, then flung them 
 back to the hilt with a martial sound, which re-echoed through 
 the lofty hall, and exclaimed with one accord, " Our swords and 
 our blood for your majesty ; we will die for our king, Maria 
 Theresa !" Overcome by sudden emotion, she burst into a flood 
 of tears. At this sight, the nobles became almost frantic with 
 enthusiasm. They retired from her presence, to vote supplies 
 of men and money, which far exceeded all her expectations. 
 
 The devoted loyalty of her Hungarian subjects changed the 
 aspect of her affairs. Tribes of wild warriors, from the Turkish 
 frontiers, Croats, Pandours, and Sclavonians, never before seen 
 m the wars of civilized Europe, crowded round her standard, 
 and by their strange appearance, and savage mode of warfare, 
 struck terror into the disciplined soldiers of Germany. 
 
 A temporary peace was succeeded by another Avar with 
 Prussia; but at length the treaty of Aix la Chapelle, which was 
 signed by the empress queen, October 23d, 1748, gave repose to 
 Europe. Thus terminated a bloody and extensive war, which, 
 at the commencement, threatened the very existence of the house 
 of Austria; but the magnanimity of Maria Theresa, the zeal 
 of her subjects, and the support of Great Britain, triumphed 
 over her numerous enemies, and secured an honorable peace. 
 She recovered the imperial dignity, which had been nearly 
 wrested from the house of Austria ; she maintained a standing- 
 army of one hundred and eight thousand men ; she visited her 
 camps and garrisons, and animated her troops by her presence, 
 her gracious speeches, and her bounties. 
 
 But Maria Theresa accomplished other designs far more 
 worthy of herself and of her sex. She made some admirable 
 regulations in the civil government of her kingdom ; she cor- 
 rected many abuses which had hitherto existed in the adminis- 
 tration of justice; she abolished forever the use of torture 
 
 29 
 
338 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 throughout her dominions. The collection of the revenues 
 were simplified ; the great number of tax gatherers, which she 
 justly considered as an engine of public oppression, was dimin- 
 ished. Her father had left her without a single florin in the 
 treasury. In 1750, after eight years of war, and the loss of 
 several states, her revenues exceeded those of her predecessors 
 by six millions. 
 
 Maria Theresa in an evil hour formed an alliance with France. 
 Another war of seven years duration with Prussia followed. 
 By the treaty of 1763, all places and prisoners were given up; 
 not a foot of territory was gained or lost by either party. Silesia 
 continued in the possession of Prussia ; the political affairs of 
 Germany remained in precisely the same state as before the 
 war; but Saxony and Bohemia had been desolated, Prussia 
 almost depopulated, and more than five hundred thousand men 
 had fallen in battle. 
 
 Francis died, August 18th, 1765. Maria's attachment to her 
 husband had been fond and passionate in her youth, and it was 
 not only constant to death, but survived even in the grave. 
 Francis was her inferior in abilities ; his influence was not felt, 
 like hers, to the extremity of the empire ; but no man could be 
 more generally beloved in his court and family. His children 
 idolized him, and he was to them a fond and indulgent father. 
 
 Maria Theresa was the mother of sixteen children, all born 
 within twenty years. There is every reason to suppose that 
 her naturally warm affection, and her strong sense, would have 
 rendered her, in a private station, an admirable, an exemplary 
 parent ; and it was not her fault, but rather misfortune, that she 
 was placed in a situation where the most sacred duties and 
 feelings of her sex became merely secondary. While her nu- 
 merous family were in their infancy, the empress was constantly 
 and exclusively occupied in the public duties and cares of her 
 high station ; the affairs of government demanded almost every 
 moment of her time. The court physician. Von Swietar, waited 
 on her each morning at her levee, and brought her a minute 
 report of the health of the princes and princesses. If one of 
 them was indisposed, the mother, laying aside all other cares, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 339 
 
 immediately flew to their apartment. They all spoke and wrote 
 Italian with elegance and facility. Thus all her children were 
 brought up with extreme simplicity. They were not allowed 
 to indulge in personal pride or caprice ; their benevolent feelings 
 were cultivated both by precept and example. They were sed- 
 ulously instructed in the " Lives of the Saints," and all the 
 tedious forms of unmeaning devotion, in which, according to 
 the sincere conviction of their mother, all true piety consisted. 
 A high sense of family pride, an unbounded devotion to the house 
 of Austria, and to their mother, the empress, as the head of 
 that house, was early impressed upon their minds, and became a 
 ruling passion, as well as a principle of conduct with all of them. 
 
 We have only to glance back upon the history of the last 
 fifty years to see the result of this mode of education. We find 
 that the children of Maria Theresa, transplanted into different 
 countries of Europe, carried with them their national and family 
 prejudices ; that some of them, in later years supplied the de- 
 fects of their early education, and became remarkable for talent 
 and for virtue. That all of them, even those who were least 
 distinguished and estimable, displayed occasionally both good- 
 ness of heart and elevation of character; and that their filial 
 devotion to their mother, and what they considered her interests, 
 was carried to an excess, which in one or two instances, proved 
 fatal to themselves. ^ 
 
 It is very amusing to contrast the routine of her private life 
 with that of the heartless, ostentatious Elizabeth, and the disso- 
 lute, splendid Catherine. Maria Theresa lived in the interior 
 of her palace with great simplicity. She breakfasted on a cup 
 of milk coiTee ; then dressed and heard mass. She then pro- 
 ceeded to business. Every Tuesday she received the ministers 
 of the different departments ; other days were set apart for giv- 
 ing audience to foreigners and strangers. There were stated 
 days on which the poorest and meanest of her subjects were 
 admitted, almost indiscriminately ; and so entire was her confi- 
 dence in their attachment and her own popularity, that they 
 might whisper to her, or see her alone if they required it. At 
 other times she read memorials, or dictated letters or despatches, 
 
340 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 signed papers, &c. At noon her dinner was brought in, con- 
 sisting of a few dishes, served with simplicity. She usually- 
 dined alone, like Napoleon, and for the same reason, to econo- 
 mize time. After dinner, she was engaged in public business 
 until six ; after that hour her daughters were admitted to join 
 in her evening prayer ; if they absented themselves, she sent to 
 know if they were indisposed; if not, they were certain of 
 meeting with a maternal reprimand on the following day. At 
 half past eight or nine she retired to rest. 
 
 Much of her time was spent in devotion ; the eighteenth day 
 of every month, was consecrated to the memory of her husband, 
 after his death ; and the month of August was spent in retire- 
 ment, in penance, and in celebrating masses and requiems for 
 the repose of his soul. It is computed that she devoted five 
 hours out of fifteen to her religious devotions, and this is related 
 as a thing incredible, and as more becoming a " bigoted abbess 
 than a great sovereign ;" but was it too much, that, when de- 
 clining in years, after having proved in her own person the 
 nothingness of all human grandeur, she should give up one 
 third of her time to prepare for that better world to which she 
 Avas fast approaching? Alfred, in the prime of life, did the 
 same ; and with regard to the puerile and minute observances, 
 the credulity and intolerance, which were mingled with her re- 
 ligious feelings, we must remember ^he system of faith in which 
 she had been educated ; the same turn of mind which sent 
 Maria Theresa on a pilgrimage to " our Lady of Heren-haltz," 
 or to pray and tell her beads at the sepulchre of her husband, 
 would, in a protestant country, have made her half a saint, or at 
 least evangelical. 
 
 She founded or enlarged in different parts of her extensive 
 dominions several academies for the improvement of the arts and 
 sciences ; instituted numerous seminaries for the education of all 
 ranks of people; reformed the public schools, and ordered prizes 
 to be distributed among the students who made the greatest pro- 
 gress in learning, or were distinguished for propriety of be- 
 havior, or purity of morals. She established prizes for those 
 who excelled in different branches of manufacture, in geometry. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 341 
 
 mining, smelting metals, and even spinning. She particularly 
 turned her attention to agriculture, which, on a medal, struck by 
 her order, was entitled the " Art which nourishes all other arts," 
 and founded a society of agriculture at Milan, with bounties to 
 the peasants who obtained the best crops. She took away the 
 pernicious rights which the convents and churches enjoyed, of 
 affording an asylum to all criminals without distinction; she 
 suppressed the inquisition, which, though curbed by the civil 
 power, still existed at Milan. • 
 
 But the great stain upon the character and reign of Maria 
 Theresa, an event which cannot be spoken of without pain or re- 
 luctance, was the infamous dismemberment of Poland, in 1772. 
 This dark deed, no doubt, originated with Prussia, but to Maria 
 Theresa belongs the disgrace of an accomplice in this foul 
 procedure. 
 
 In the year 1778, she was again nearly plunged into a war 
 with her old adversary, Frederick of Prussia. After a long 
 negotiation, and many difficulties, which she met and overcame 
 with firmness and talent worthy of her brightest days, the peace 
 was signed at Teschen, in Saxony, on the the thirteenth of May, 
 the birth day of the empress queen. 
 
 The treaty of Teschen was the last political event of Maria 
 Theresa's reign, in which she was actively and personally con- 
 cerned. Her health had been for some years declining, and for 
 several months previous to her death, she was unable to move 
 from her chair without assistance. An English traveller, who 
 wa.s introduced to her about this time, describes her as an old 
 lady, immensely corpulent, habited in the deepest weeds, v/ith 
 her gray hair slightly powdered, and turned back under a cap 
 of black crape. Notwithstanding her many infirmities, her de- 
 portment was still dignified, her manner graceful as well as 
 gracious, and her countenance benign. 
 
 She had long been accustomed to look death in the face, and 
 when the hour of trial came, her resignation, her fortitude, and 
 her humble trust in Heaven never failed her. Her agonies 
 during the last ten days of her life, were terrible, but never drew 
 
 from her a single expression of complaint or impatience. She 
 
 29* 
 
342 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 was only apprehensive that her reason and her physical strength 
 might fail her together. She was once heard to say, " God 
 grant that these sufferings may soon terminate, for otherwise, I 
 know not if I can much longer endure them." 
 
 After receiving the last sacraments, she summoned all her 
 family to her presence, and solemnly recommended them to the 
 care of the emperor Joseph, her eldest son. " My son," said she, 
 •'as you are the heir to all my worldly possessions, I cannot dis- 
 pose of them ; but my children are still, as they have ever been, 
 my own. I bequeath them to you, be to them a father. I shall 
 die contented if you promise to take that office upon you." She 
 then tamed to her son Maximilian and her daughters, blessed 
 them individually, in the tenderest terms, and exhorted them to 
 obey and honor their elder brother as their father and sovereign. 
 After repeated fits of agony and suffocation, endured to the last, 
 with the same invariable serenity and patience, death, at length, 
 released her, and she expired on the twenty-ninth of November, 
 1 780, in her sixty-fourth year. 
 
 The earthly dower of Maria Theresa was certainly the rich- 
 est ever granted to a mortal. A strong mind and a feeling 
 heart, royalty and beaut}-, long life and prosperity, a happy mar- 
 riage, a numerous family, her people's love, the admiration of 
 the universe ! These were hers ; and her biographers generally 
 sum up her character by justly styling her the most blameless 
 and beneficent sovereign who ever wore a crown. While Ave 
 grieve that the feminine mistakes, passions, and antipathies of 
 Maria Theresa should cost humanity so dear ; yet still it is true 
 that the real elevation of her mind, and the warm and generous 
 affections of her heart, rendered her one of the most admirable 
 ind amiable of women. 
 
 Jane, countess of Montfort, flourished in 1341 and 1342. 
 The count de Montfort, heir male of Brittany, had seized that 
 duchy in opposition to Charles of Blois, the French king's 
 nephew, who had married the grand -daughter of the late duke. 
 Sensible that he could expect no favor from Philip, Montfort made 
 a voyage to England, and offered to do homage to Edward III. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 343 
 
 as king of France, for Brittany; proposing a strict alliance 
 for the support of each other's pretensions. Little negociation 
 was necessary to conclude a treaty between two princes con- 
 nected by their immediate interests. But the captivity of the 
 count, who was taken prisoner by the enemy, which happened 
 soon after, seemed to put an end to all the advantages naturally 
 to be expected from it. The affairs of Brittany, were however, 
 unexpectedly retrieved by Jane, wife of Montfort. Roused, by 
 the captivity of her husband, from those domestic cares to which 
 she had hitherto entirely confined herself, she boldly undertook 
 to support the falling fortunes of her family. When she received 
 the fatal intelligence, instead of giving way to despair, she 
 instantly assembled' the inhabitants of Rennes, where she then 
 resided, and taking her infant son in her arms, conjured them 
 to extend their protection to the last male heir of their ancient 
 sovereigns ; expatiated on the resources to be derived from 
 England, entreating them to m.ake one daring effort against a 
 usurper, who, being allied to France, would sacrifice their 
 ancient liberty as the price of assistance. In short, she har- 
 rangued them in a strain so bold and so pathetic, that it spoke 
 to their hearts, and inspired them vAih a portion of her own 
 enthusiastic ardor; they resolved to defend her with their lives 
 and fortunes. She then made a progress through all the other 
 fortresses of the duchy, and induced them to adopt similiar mea 
 sures; visited the garrison, and provided every thing necessary 
 for sustenance and defence ; and having secured the whole prov- 
 ince from surprise, shut herself up in Hennebone, expecting the 
 English succors, and sent her son over to England. Charles 
 of Blois opened the campaign, expecting soon to terminate a 
 war merely conducted by a woman. Rennes soon surrendered 
 to him. He next proceeded to Hennebone, where the brave 
 countess commanded in person. The garrison, actuated by her 
 presence, made a vigorous defence. She herself performed 
 prodigies of valor; clad in complete armor, she stood foremost 
 in the breach, sustained the most violent assaults, and flying with 
 active vigilance from post to rampart, encouraged her troops, and 
 displayed skill that would have done honor to the most experi- 
 
344 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 enced general. Perceiving one day, that the besiegers, occupied 
 in a general attack, had left their camp unguarded, she imme- 
 diately sallied forth by a postern, with five hundred men, set fire 
 to their tents, baggage, and magazines, and created so universal 
 an alarm, that the enemy desisted from the assault, to cut off her 
 communication with the town. Finding herself intercepted, she 
 galloped towards Auray, which she reached in safety. Five 
 days after she returned with her little army, cut her way through 
 part of the camp, and entered the town in triumph. 
 
 At length, however, so many breaches were made in the walls 
 by reiterated assaults, that the place was deemed no longer 
 tenable, and the bishop of Leon, notwithstanding the prayers 
 and remonstrances of the countess, had determined to capitulate ; 
 he was actually engaged in a conference respecting it, with 
 Charles of Blois, when the countess, who had ascended a lofty 
 tower, and was casting an eager look toward the sea, descried a 
 fleet at a distance. She instantly ran into the streets, and ex- 
 claimed in a transport of joy, " Succors, succors, the English 
 succors, no capitulation !'' Nor was she mistaken ; the English 
 fleet soon after entered the harbor, and the troops under the 
 command of Sir Walter Mauny, sallied from the city, attacked 
 the camp of the besiegers, and reduced it to ashes. On Sir 
 Walter's return from this successful expedition, says Froissard, 
 " the countess went forth to meet him with a joyful countenance, 
 and kissed him and his companions two or three times, like a 
 valiant lady." Edward himself afterwards undertook her de- 
 fence. The count, who had been released through a treaty 
 between England and Philip, still attempting to defend his right, 
 was slain, and Edward undertook the cause of his son. After- 
 wards, in 1346, Charles of Blois having come with his troops to 
 the assistance of a fortress he had reduced, she attacked him in 
 his entrenchments in the night, dangerously wounded, and took 
 him prisoner. 
 
 Madame de maintenon, a most extraordinary lady, who, 
 from a humble situation, and a variety of misfortunes, rose, at 
 last, to be the wife of Louis XIV., was descended from the an- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 345 
 
 cient family of D'Aubigny. Her grandfather was a man of 
 considerable rank, and highly renowned as a champion for the 
 protestants, and as he perceived, at last, that there was no safety 
 for him in his own country, he fled to Geneva, where he died 
 in the year 1630. 
 
 The son of this D'Aubigny, soon after the death of his first 
 wife, was, in December, 1626, married a second time, lo a lady 
 of a respectable family, with whom he lived only a few weeks, 
 when he was cast into prison in Paris, in consequence of some 
 heinous accusation against him. Madame D'Aubigny exerted 
 her utmost influence to procure his enlargement ; but to no pur- 
 pose. As, however, her attachment to her husband increased 
 in proportion as he became more miserable, she obtained liberty 
 to shut herself up in prison along with him, where she had two 
 sons. She, at length, got permission from court to have her 
 husband removed to the prison of Niort, that she might be nearer 
 the assistance, which they derived from their relations. 
 
 In this prison, Madame de Maintenon was born, November, 
 27th, 1635 ; from which miserable situation, however, she was 
 taken a few days after by Madame Villette, her aunt by the 
 father's side. Soon after this, she obtained her husband's release, 
 upon condition, however, that he should embrace the catholic 
 religion ; but no sooner was D Aubigny at liberty, than fearing 
 some fresh troubles, he resolved to decamp and seek his fortune 
 abroad. Accordingly, in 1639, he embarked for the West In- 
 dies, with his wife and family, and settled at Martinico, where 
 he acquired considerable plantations. Madame D'Aubigny, 
 some years after, returned to France, with a view to recover some 
 debts, in which, however, she did not succeed, and soon went 
 back to the West Indies, where she had the mortification to find 
 her husband completely ruined, by gaming. In 1646 D'Aubigny 
 died, when his lady, with her small family, were left in the great- 
 est distress. She returned to France, and her daughter soon 
 after was taken into the family of Madame Villette, who received 
 her with great marks of affection, informing her that she should 
 be heartily welcome to reside in her house as long as she thought 
 proper, where, at least, she should never be at a loss for a sub- 
 
346 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 sistence. The niece accepted the offer with gratitude, and in a 
 short time became firmly attached to the protestant religion ; bat 
 Madame de Nevillant, a relation by the mother's side, having 
 solicited an order, which was granted, from the court, to take 
 her out of the hands of her aunt, and to have her instructed in 
 the Romish religion, took her to herself, and made her a con- 
 vert, which, however, was not effected, without many threats, and 
 hardships inflicted on her. 
 
 With a view to rescue herself from the state of dependence 
 to which she found herself subjected, she was obliged to marry 
 that famous old buffoon, the abbe Scarron, who subsisted himself 
 only on a pension allowed him by the court, for his wit and parts ; 
 but when he died, she found herself as indigent as she was be- 
 fore her marriage. Her friends, indeed, endeavored to get her 
 pension continued, and presented so many petitions to the king, 
 about it, all beginning with " The w^idow Scarron, most humbly 
 prays your majesty, &c." that he was quite weary of them, and 
 has been frequently heard to exclaim, " Must I always be pestered 
 with the widow Scarron ?" 
 
 At lastj'-however, through the recommendation of Madame de 
 Montespan, the king settled a much larger pension on her, with 
 a genteel apology for making her wait so long, and afterwards 
 made choice of her to take care of the young duke of Maine. 
 The letters she wrote on this occasion charmed the king, and 
 were the origin of her advancement ; her own personal merit 
 effected all the rest. He bought her the lands of Maintenon, 
 the only estate she ever had ; and, finding her pleased with the 
 acquisition, called her publicly " Madame de Maintenon," which 
 was of great service to her in her good fortune, by releasing her 
 from the name of Scarron. 
 
 In the mean time, her elevation was to her only a retreat ; 
 the king came to her apartment every day after dinner, before 
 and after supper, and continued there till midnight ; here he did 
 business with his ministers, while Madame de Maintenon, em- 
 ployed in reading, or needlework, never showed any desire to 
 talk of state affairs, and carefully avoided all appearances of 
 cabal and intrigue, nor did she ever make use of her power, to 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 347 
 
 procure dignities or employments for her own relations. But 
 the same natural disposition, which prevented her from soliciting 
 benefits for her friends, made her also incapable of doing inju- 
 ries. When the minister Louvois threw himself at the feet of 
 Louis XIV., to hinder his marriage with the widow Scarron, she 
 not only forgave him, but frequently pacified the king, whom the 
 rough temper of this minister as frequently incensed. 
 
 About the latter end of the year 1685, Louis XIV. married 
 her, he being then in his forty-eighth, she in her fiftieth year ; 
 and that piety with which she inspired the king to make her a 
 wife, became by degrees a settled disposition of mind. She pre- 
 vailed on Louis to found a religious community at St. Cyr, for 
 the education of three hundred young ladies of quality ; and 
 here she frequently retired from that melancholy, of which she 
 complains so pathetically in one of her letters, and which few 
 ladies will suppose she should be liable to in so elevated a situa- 
 tion. But, as Voltaire says, if any thing could show the vanity 
 of ambition, it would certainly be this letter. Madame de Main- 
 tenon could have no other uneasiness than the uniformity of her 
 living with a great king ; and this made her once say to the 
 count D'Aubigny her brother, " I can hold it no longer, I wish 
 I was dead." Louis, however, died before her, in 1715; when 
 she retired w^hoUy to St. Cyr, and spent the rest of her days in 
 acts of devotion ; and, what is most surprising, is, that her hus- 
 band left no certain provision for her, but only recommended her 
 to the duke of Orleans. She would accept no more than a pen- 
 sion of about thirteen thousand dollars per annum, which was 
 punctually paid her till her death, which happened, April 15th, 
 1719. A collection of her letters has been published, and trans- 
 lated into English, 
 
 Margaret, daughter of Rene, duke of Anjou, and king of 
 Sicily, was cousin-german to the French monarch, and was a 
 princess, who, to the charms of beauty, united superior endow- 
 ments of mind. Henry VI., of England, desirous of giving 
 peace to his kingdom, after a long war, proposed, during a truce 
 between the two nations, to ally himself, by marriage, with 
 
348 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 France, whence he was himself descended on the maternal side. 
 With this view he demanded Margaret ; and the duke of Suf- 
 folk, with a splendid retinue, passed over to Nantz to solemnize 
 the nuptials, and to escort the princess to England. She was 
 received by the monarch with affection and respect, and the 
 nuptial ceremony was repeated at the monastery of Litchfield, 
 after which the queen and her suite proceeded to London. 
 
 Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, who was at the helm of 
 government, opposed this alliance from political motives. Three 
 years previous to his nuptials, Henry had been contracted to the 
 daughter of coant d'Armagnac; but the king, influenced by the 
 suggestions of Suffolk, broke his engagements, and deserted his 
 affianced bride. 
 
 Margaret, Avhose temper was vindictive and lofty, could not 
 forgive the opposition of the duke's vengeance, added to a thirst 
 of power, determined her to ruin him in the favor of the king ; 
 to drive him from his post, and assume to herself the reins of 
 government. With these views she studied the character of 
 Henry. She perceived his weakness, his indolence, his love of 
 quiet, his aversion to business, his contempt of dignities, and 
 indifference to power, qualities of which she resolved to avail 
 herself She labored to render the duke odious in the eyes of 
 her husband. But Henry, who had long been accustomed to 
 lean on Gloucester for support, resisted the purposes of Margaret, 
 and zealously defended the duke. The queen, not easily baffled, 
 renewed from time to time her attacks, gradually prevailing over 
 the flexible nature of the monarch. In less than a year, Glou- 
 cester lost, with his employments, his credit at court, was 
 arrested in parliament by the high constable of England, and 
 was inhumanly strangled in prison, without even the form of 
 justice. 
 
 This atrocious action was generally attributed to the duke of 
 Suffolk, who was odious to the people. He was at first impeached 
 by the parliament, and sent a prisoner to the tower, and after a 
 month's confinement liberated. This not satisfying the populace, 
 he was again impeached, and banished for five years. On his 
 passage to France, he was taken by a ship of war, beheaded by 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 349 
 
 order of the captain, and cast on the sands at Dover, whence his 
 remains were conveyed to London, and exposed to the people, to 
 satisfy their rage. These disorders originated in the ambition 
 of the queen : her eagerness to grasp the administration of affairs 
 had involved the fate of Gloucester, while Suffolk, devoted to her 
 service, had paid with his life, the forfeit of his crimes. Amidst 
 the tempest which shook the kingdom, Margaret presided at the 
 helm with firmness. Edward, duke of Somerset, was appointed by 
 her prime minister ; while the princes of the blood were neglect- 
 ed. The factions of York and Lancaster divided the nation, 
 while Henry held his crown by a doubtful and precarious tenure. 
 
 Richard, duke of York, took up arms under pretence of pub- 
 lic good. His cause was espoused by the common people of 
 Kent, whose leader was the celebrated Jack Cade. After some 
 skirmishing. Cade was killed, and the people dispersed. York, 
 however, strengthened his party, marched towards the capital, 
 and gave battle to the king's troops. He was victorious, while 
 the king's troops were defeated with a dreadful slaughter. The 
 duke of Somerset being slain, York went over to the king, and 
 in the midst of his vanquished troops, laid at his feet the 
 trophies he had gained, while he declared that the death of the 
 minister was the life of the people. Having thus said, he con- 
 ducted Henry to London, accompanied by both armies. He, 
 however, left to the monarch but the shadow of sovereignty ; the 
 semblance of which he assumed to himself, while parliament 
 declared him protector of the kingdom. 
 
 Margaret communicated these proceedings to the king, whom 
 she pressed to retrench the authority of his rival. She was aware 
 of the insecurity of Henry, and plotted the destruction of the 
 duke. York and his party, having been secretly informed of a 
 plot against him, again made war. Margaret governed the camp, 
 and a battle was fought. Ten thousand men fell in the field, 
 and the king was taken prisoner, and conducted to London. 
 
 Warm disputes ensued in parliament. It was at length 
 
 enacted, that Henry, during life, should be king ; that the crown 
 
 should descend to York ; and that the prince of Wales, and his 
 
 posterity, were to be wholly excluded from the succession. 
 
 30 
 
350 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Margaret, incensed at these proceedings, publicly declared 
 her resolution to avenge the cause of her son, and to rescue her 
 husband from captivity. She collected ten thousand men, com- 
 manded her forces in person, drew them up in order of battle, 
 and animated them by a speech full of courage and fire. She 
 rode through the battalions, and exhorted the troops to bravery 
 and firmness. The Yorkists, surrounded on all sides, gave way, 
 and the duke fell in the field, his cavalry was routed, and his 
 infantry cut in pieces. She then marched to London, and de- 
 livered her husband from captivity. The enemy rallied his 
 scattered troops under Edward, earl of Marche, and in the fields 
 of Towton a battle was fought, which lasted for ten hours, when 
 the king's party gave way. The king and queen escaped, and 
 found protection in Scotland, from James II. 
 
 Margaret passed over to France, with Edward, her son. 
 Thence she proceeded to Anjou, to Rene, her father. By Louis 
 XL she was furnished with two thousand men ; with these and 
 her son she returned to Scotland. She was again unsuccessful, 
 and with her son embarked, and landed at Huys, in Flanders. 
 Thence she went to Bruges, and to Lisle and Bethune, where 
 Philip, duke of Burgundy, assisted her with a large sum of 
 money and a convoy, with which she proceeded to the duchy of 
 Bar, belonging to her brother, the duke of Calabria, 
 
 Henry, in the mean time was seized, and carried to London, 
 where he was, by order of Edward, imprisoned in the tower. 
 Margaret, distressed but not discouraged by the fate of the king, 
 redoubled her efTorts at the court of France. Warwick having 
 espoused the cause of Henry, went over to France, had an inter- 
 view with the queen, and the king of France fitted out a fleet 
 to assist the queen's cause. He landed at Dartmouth, proclaimed 
 as he marched the name of Henry, and Edward fled to Holland. 
 On his arrival at London he released Henry, and replaced him 
 on the throne. Margaret was overwhelmed with joy, after ten 
 years imprisonment her husband was restored to freedom, and 
 royality, while the cloud which overwhelmed the destiny of her 
 son, seemed rapidly dispersing. She landed in England, fought 
 a long and bloody battle, and was defeated. She was pressed 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 351 
 
 once more to hazard a battle, when she was completely over- 
 powered, and she and her son made prisoners. The dukes of 
 Gloucester and Clarence, and Lord Hastings, inhumanly butch- 
 ered the young prince. Margaret was conveyed to London, and 
 that very night, Henry, her husband, was stabbed in the tower, 
 by the ferocious Gloucester. Rene, her father, gave to Louis of 
 France the succession of Provence, for the liberation of his 
 daughter. Louis paid to England for her ramson, fifty thousand 
 crowns of gold. She also, when she was delivered up, renounced 
 every claim to which she might conceive herself entitled, by her 
 marriage with Henry. 
 
 Thus divested of power and possessions, and hopeless of any 
 reverse of fortune, she retired to Anjou, to pass the remainder 
 of a disastrous life. She expired, a victim to sorrow, in the 
 parish of Dampierre, near Saumer, in 1482, and was entombed 
 without any particular memorial. On the feast of All-Saints, 
 the chapter of St. Maurice, made annually, after vespers of the 
 dead, a semi-circular procession about her tomb, singing a sub- 
 venite to the manes of the unfortunate Margaret. 
 
 Hannah More. While we were gathering up materials for 
 this volume, the English press announced the death of this ex- 
 traordinary woman. She had reached, we knew, the confines 
 of another w^orld, and was hourly waiting for a change ; but, 
 strange as it may seem, there has as yet, been only a few slight 
 sketches of her character given to the public. The one which 
 we insert in this brief notice of her, seems to contain more facts 
 than any other we have seen. A later paper has enumerated 
 her charitable bequests, which are so judiciously made as to 
 form the coronal to her fame. We were apprised that there had 
 been no great variety in her life, but it had been long, and could 
 not be destitute of incident, as several generations have passed 
 away since she began to write. She had been contemporary 
 with Burke, Johnson, Darwin, and others of great literary dis- 
 tinction, over whom the grave has long since closed, while she 
 has been permitted to live on to benefit mankind. Another, and 
 another race had sprung up, who panted to do good, and she 
 
352 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 labored with them. Romily, and Wilbeforce, were among her 
 friends in this century, as the great men we have named, were 
 in the last. For many years she was devoted to the cause of 
 education, herself a teacher, of unrivalled success. Hundreds 
 of the most dintinguished females have been educated by her 
 and her sisters. But, it was not in her school alone, that she 
 has done good ; it is in her writings that we find her power. 
 It is now more than half a century since she first appeared as a 
 writer, and every line she has given the world had its efiects 
 upon, at least, two nations. She has been known on this side 
 of the water, as well as on the other ; and our mothers were 
 aided by her in teaching us in our infancy. We have felt the 
 effect of her writings ever since we began to reason ; in the nur- 
 sery, in the school room, and even in college halls. 
 
 In our youthful days we took parts in her " Sacred Dramas," 
 and the speeches of David and Araspes are now as familiar to 
 us " as household words." Even our strict and wary parents, 
 who, bless their shades for their affectionate solicitude for us, 
 and who are no more, having gone the way of all the earth, 
 suffered us to read the works of Hannah More, on the holy 
 sabbath, when almost every thing but the bible was forbidden. 
 It was indeed " a Daniel come to judgment," when we could 
 get her works into our hands, and would hold on to them, until 
 the toll of the bell that "knolled to church," was dying on our 
 ear, and we feared a severe maternal look if we were not in our 
 places before the man of God had stretched his hands in prayer. 
 Her looks, her cottage, her air and manner were all enquired 
 after by every youth who read her works, and for ourselves, we 
 can recollect, that a favorite, pious, kind, and affectionate maiden 
 friend of our childhood, was in the exuberance of our admira- 
 tion and gratitude, compared in some infant attempts at verse, to 
 Hannah More ; we could go no higher. 
 
 Her works were printed in this country until every house 
 was furnished with a portion of them. Six years since they 
 were collected and printed at Hartford, in Connecticut, with a 
 preface from Mrs. Sigourney, who speaks of the prophetess of 
 "Barley Wood" with the enthusiasm of a kindred genius. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 353 
 
 Hannah More was born about the year 1745, or 1746. She 
 Avas the youngest of five daughters of a clergyman, who resided 
 at Hanham, near Bristol. In early youth, all her leisure hours 
 are described as having been devoted to reading. The scanty 
 library of her father having been soon exhausted, she borrowed 
 from her village friends ; and it is said that, amongst the first 
 books which thus fell into her hands was Richardson's " Pa- 
 mela" ; a work that has made a fool, or worse, of many a girl. 
 On Hannah More it seems to have produced no such effect. 
 
 Her sisters had for some time conducted a small school, in 
 which they acquitted themselves with so much propriety, that 
 their reputation increased, and they were enabled to venture on 
 forming a larger establishment, and taking pupils of a higher 
 class than they had hitherto been accustomed to educate. Pa- 
 tronized by several ladies of fortune and discernment, they, about 
 the year 1765, removed to Bristol, and opened a boarding-school 
 in Park street. It soon became one of the most celebrated semi- 
 naries in the west of England. 
 
 Hannah More accompanied her sisters in their removal. She 
 soon attracted the notice, and acquired the friendship, of the 
 Rev. Dr. Stonehouse, their next door neighbor ; and that gen- 
 tleman not only encouraged her to write, but is understood to 
 have corrected all her early effusions. Her first publication, 
 which appeared in 1770, or 1772, was " The Search after Hap- 
 piness, a Pastoral Drama." The reception which it experienced 
 was so favorable, that she was encouraged to print, in 1774, her 
 " Sir Eldred of the Bower," " The Bleeding Rock," and a tra- 
 gedy, entitled " The Inflexible Captive," founded on the story of 
 Regulus. 
 
 Through the kindness of Dr. Stonehouse, Hannah More Avas 
 
 introduced to Garrick, who advised her to write for the stage ; 
 
 for which, indeed, she seems to have had a strong predilection. 
 
 One of the early fruits of her acquaintance with the manager, 
 
 was, " An Ode to Dragon, Mr. Garrick's House Dog." This 
 
 appeared in 1777 ; as did also a volume of " Essays on several 
 
 Subjects, designed for Young Ladies." 
 
 In 1778, her tragedy of " Percy" was performed. It was 
 
 30* 
 
354 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 well received ; and for a time, it seems to have established her 
 fame as a dramatic writer. To write a moderately successful 
 tragedy was a task of less difficulty in those days than it is now. 
 In the following year she ^'oduced another tragedy, " Fatal 
 Falsehood." 
 
 It was not long, however, before Miss More's thoughts took 
 a more serious turn; and, in 1782, she published " Sacred Dra- 
 mas," and "Simplicity, a Poetical Epistle." Some of the dramas 
 had previously been acted by the pupils of Miss More's school. 
 The stage, however, having become an abomination in her eyes, 
 she subsequently availed herself of an opportunity to declare, 
 that she did not think it, in its present state, deserving the coun- 
 tenance of a Christian. She accordingly renounced all dramatic 
 attempts, except as poems. 
 
 Many years since, Hannah More, and her sisters, retired, with 
 an easy fortune, to Mendip, in Somersetshire. There, by the 
 establishment of charity schools, they effected a great alteration 
 and improvement in the manners and morals of the colliers. 
 
 She observed, and thought, and wrote much ; she was inti- 
 mately acquainted with Dr. Porteus, Dr. Beattie, Mrs. Mon- 
 tague, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Johnson, Burke, Wilberforce, 
 and many other celebrated individuals of both sexes; she had 
 many curious adventures in her time; and her "Confessions" — 
 her full, honest, faithful " Confessions" — if less piquant and 
 touching than those of Rosseau, Avould be found to possess an 
 abundant portion of interest. 
 
 Continuing to favor the world with her literary productions. 
 Miss More, in 1785, wrote a " Biographical Preface to the Po- 
 ems of Anne Yearsley, a Milkwoman." Circumstances which 
 arose out of her connection with this Anne Yearsley, poetically 
 designated " Lactilla," excited much notice and animadversion. 
 The patroness and her protegee quarrelled ; the latter was ac- 
 cused of ingratitude; and, she, in her turn, told a strange story 
 about the disappearance of a volume of her manuscripts, which 
 had been left with Miss More. The difference, we believe, was 
 never satisfactorily settled. 
 
 In 1786, she published " Florio, a Tale," and the " Bas Bleu, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 355 
 
 a Conversation, two Poems." Her " Thoughts on the Manners 
 of the Great," appeared the same year, anon3'mously. For some 
 time it was assigned to Mr. Wilbeforce, Dr. Porteus, and others. 
 This was soon followed by her " Estimate of the Religion* of 
 the Fashionable World," which excited much attention ; " Vil- 
 lage Politics," and " Remarks on the Speech of Monsieur Dc- 
 pont, on Religious Education," in 1793 ; and "Strictures on the 
 Modern System of Female Education," in two volumes octavo, 
 in 1799. 
 
 It is said, that, when the education of the late princess Char- 
 lotte, became a consideration of national importance, Miss More 
 was consulted on the subject by the queen, (Charlotte) ; and, 
 that, in consequence, she, in 1808, produced, in two volumes, 
 " Hints towards forming the Character of a Young Princess." 
 This work was honored with the royal approbation, and that of 
 a large portion of the public. 
 
 Though confined to her bed by an excruciating disease, she 
 continued to write, and in that state produced some of her most 
 popular works : amongst others, " Ccelebs in search of a Wife," 
 which appeared in 1809, and which, if we may confide in the 
 veracity of title-pages, ran through ten editions in the course of 
 a twelvemonth. 
 
 Her " Practical Piety," in two volumes, was published in 
 1811 ; her "Christian Morals," in two volumes, in 1812; her 
 " Essay on the Character and Writings of St. Paul," in two vol- 
 umes, in 1815; and her "Moral Sketches of prevailing Opinions 
 and Manners," in 1819. Her miscellaneous works have been 
 collected in eight volumes. Many of her short pieces, however, 
 have not been preserved in that collection. 
 
 By that portion of the church of England, denominated evan- 
 gelical. Miss More was long regarded as an eminent and distin- 
 guished character. For several years, her health had been in 
 a feeble and declining state ; and, after a painful, and protracted 
 illness, accompanied, at times, by feverish delirium, she expired 
 ^ on Sunday, the seventh of September, 1833, at her residence, 
 Windsor terrace, Clifton. 
 
 It has been said that an author is better known by the pre- 
 
356 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 face to his works, than from the works themselves, for in that 
 he necessarily talks about himself, and gives some analysis of 
 his own mind, and habits of reasoning. In the following intro- 
 duction, which she made for an edition of her works, Miss More 
 has spoken of herself and of her writings, and probably more 
 of her true character can be drawn from it, than from the most 
 elaborate biography from another hand. The maxims that 
 guide are sound, and there is a moral and mental energy in her 
 acquirements in favor of them, that should be held in admiration 
 by every independent female mind. 
 
 "Whatever objections may be urged against the literary cha 
 racter of the present day, it must, however, be allowed to exhibit 
 an evident improvement in some material points. It is, for in- 
 stance, no new observation, that vanity and flattery are now less 
 generally ostensible, even in the most indifferent authors, than 
 they were formerly in some of the best. The most self-sufficient 
 writer is at length driven, by the prevailing sense of propriety 
 to be contented with thinking himself the prime genius of the 
 age; but he seldom ventures to tell you that he thinks so. 
 Vanity is compelled to acquire or to assume a better taste. 
 
 " That spirit of independence also, which has in many respects 
 impressed so mischievous a stamp on the public character, has, 
 perhaps, helped to correct the style of prefaces and dedications. 
 Literary patronage is so much shorn of its beams, that it can 
 no longer enlighten bodies which are in themselves opake ; so 
 much abridged of its power that it cannot force into notice a 
 work which is not able to recommend itself The favor of an 
 individual no longer boasts that buoyant quality which enables 
 that to swim which, by its own nature, is disposed to sink. The 
 influence of an Augustus, or a Louis Q,uatorze, of a Majcenas, 
 a Dorset, or a Halifax, could not now procure readers, much less 
 could it compel admires for the panegyrist, if the panegyrist, 
 himself, could command admiration on no better ground than 
 the authority of the patron. The once dilated preface is shrunk 
 into plain apology or simple exposition. The long and lofty 
 dedication, generally speaking, dwindled into a sober expres- 
 sion of respect for public virtue, a concise tribute of affection to 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 357 
 
 private friendship, or an acknowledgment for personal obliga- 
 tion. It is no longer necessary for the dependant to be profane 
 in order to be grateful. No more are all the divine attributes 
 snatched from their rightful possessor, and impiously appropri- 
 ated by the needy writer to the opulent patron. He still makes 
 indeed the eulogium of his protector, but not his apotheosis. 
 The vainest poet of our days dare not venture, like him who 
 has however so gloriously accomplished his own prediction, to 
 say, in so many words, that his own work is more sublime than 
 the royal heights of pyramids. Nor whatever secret com- 
 pact he may make for his duration, does he openly undertake to 
 promise for his verse, that it shall flow coequal with the rivers, 
 and survive the established forms of the religion of his 
 country. The most venal poetic parasite no longer eissures his 
 protector, with ' unhappy Dryden,' that mankind can no more 
 subsist without his poetry, (the earl of Middlesex's poetry !) than 
 the world can subsist without the daily course of Divine Provi- 
 dence. And it is but justice to the more sober spirit of living 
 literature, to observe, that our modesty would revolt (putting our 
 sense and our religion out of the question) were a modern poet 
 to offer even an imperial patron to pick and choose his lodging 
 among the constellations ; or, as some author has expressed it 
 on a similar occasion, ' to ask what apartment of the zodiac he 
 would be pleased to occupy.' 
 
 " So far at least our taste is reformed. And may we not venture 
 to hope, from the affinity which should subsist between correct 
 judgment and unadulterated principle, that our ideas of truth 
 and manly integrity are improved also ? 
 
 " But it is time that I confine myself to the more immediate 
 objects of the present address, in which, in avoiding the exploded 
 evil I have been reprobating, I would not effectually run into the 
 opposite, and perhaps prevailing extreme. 
 
 " It may not, it is pre.sumed be thought necessary to apologize 
 for the publication of this collection, by enumerating all the rea- 
 sons which produced it. ' Desire of friends,' is now become a 
 proverbial satire ; the poet is driven from that once creditable 
 refuge, behind which an unfounded eagerness to appear in print 
 
358 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 used to shelter itself; and is obliged to abandon the untenable 
 forts and fastnesses of this last citadel of affectation. Dr. John- 
 son's sarcasm upon one plea will apply to all, and put to flight 
 the whole hackneyed train of false excuses — • If the book were 
 not written to be printed, I presume it was printed to be read.' 
 
 " These scattered pieces, besides that they had been suffered to 
 pass through successive editions, with little or no correction, 
 were in their original appearance, of all shapes and sizes, and 
 utterly unreducible to any companionable form. Several new 
 pieces are here added, and most of the old ones considerably 
 altered and enlarged. The second volume is preceded by its 
 apology. The ' Essays' are omitted, as being a very juvenile 
 production, and because the subjects of a few of them were analo- 
 gous to some which have been taken up on higher ground, and 
 treated more in detail in the ' Strictures on Female Education.' 
 If it should be questioned whether the tales which occupy the 
 third volume ought to have made a part of this collection, I can 
 only answer, that though in their original appearance it was found 
 expedient to adopt a more than usually familiar manner, and 
 colloquial style ; yet in all that relates to sentiment and principle, 
 and the ends of general utility, I am not conscious of having, 
 on any occasion, taken more pains. They are here given in an 
 enlarged and improved form. 
 
 " I should blush to produce so many slight productions of my 
 early youth, did I not find reason to be still more ashamed, that 
 after a period of so many years the progress will be found to 
 have been so inconsiderable, and the difference so little apparent. 
 
 " If I should presume to suggest, as an apology for having still 
 persisted to publish, that of the latter productions, usefulness has 
 been more invariably the object; whereas, in many of the ear- 
 lier, amusement was more obviously proposed ; if I were in- 
 clined to palliate my presumption by pleading 
 
 'That not in Fancy's maze I wandered long;' 
 
 it might be retorted that the implied plea, in favor of the latter 
 publications, exhibits no surer proof of humility in this instance 
 than in the other. That, if in the first it was no evidence of the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 359 
 
 modesty of the writer to fancy she could amuse, in the last it fur- 
 nishes little proof of the modesty of the woman to fancy that she 
 can instruct. Now to amuse, or to instruct, or both, is so undeni- 
 ably the intention of all who obtrude their works on the public, 
 that no preliminary apology, no prefatory humiliation can quite do 
 away the charge of a certain consciousness of talents which is im- 
 plied in the very undertaking. The author profes-ses his inability, 
 but he produces his book; and by the publication itself controverts 
 his own avowal of alledged incapacity. It is to little purpose 
 that the words are disparaging while the deed is assuming. 
 Nor will that profession of self-abasement be much regarded, 
 which is contradicted by an act that supposes self-confidence. 
 
 " If, however, there is too seldom found in the writer of the 
 book, the humility which the preface announces, he may be al- 
 lowed to plead on humility, which is at least comparative. On 
 this ground may I be permitted to declare, that at no period of 
 my life did I ever feel such unfeigned diffidence at the individual 
 appearance of even the slightest pamphlet, (the slenderness of 
 whose dimensions might carry some excuse for the small pro- 
 portion of profit or pleasure it conveyed,) as I now feel at send- 
 ing this, perhaps, too voluminous collection into the world. 
 This self-distrust may naturally be accounted for, by reflecting 
 that this publication is deliberately made, not only at a time of 
 life when I ought best to know my own fauhs, and the fauhs of 
 my writings ; but is made also at such a distance from the mo- 
 ment in w^hich the several pieces were first struck out, that the 
 raind has had time to cool from the hurry and heat of compo- 
 sition ; the judgment has had leisure to operate, and it is the 
 effect of that operation to rectify false notions and to correct rash 
 conclusions. The critic, even of his own works, grows honest, 
 if not acute, at the end of twenty years. The image, which he 
 had fancied glowed so brightly when it came fresh from the fur- 
 nace, time has quenched ; the spirits which he thought fixed and 
 3ssential, have evaporated ; many of the ideas which he imposed, 
 fiot only on his reader, but on himself, for originals, more read- 
 ing and more observation compel him to restore to their owners. 
 And having detected, from the perusal of abler works, either 
 
360 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 plagiarisms in his own, of which he was not aware, or coinci- 
 dences which will pass for plagiarisms ; and blending with the 
 new judgment of the critic, the old indignation of the poet, who 
 of us in this case is not angry with those who have said our 
 good things before us ? We not only discover that what we 
 thouo^ht we had invented we have only remembered ; but we 
 find also that what we had believed to be perfect is full of defects; 
 in that which we had conceived to be pure gold, we discover 
 much tinsel. For the revision, as w^as observed above, is made 
 at a period when the eye is brought, by a due remoteness, into 
 that just position which gives a clear and distinct view of things; 
 a remoteness which disperses ' the illusions of vision,' scatters 
 the mists of vanity, reduces objects to their natural size, restores 
 them to their exact shape, makes them appear to the sight such 
 as they are in themselves, and such as perhaps they have long 
 appeared to all except the author. 
 
 " That I have added to the mass of general knowledge by one 
 original idea, or to the stock of virtue by one original sentiment, 
 I do not presume to hope. But that I have labored assiduously, 
 to make that kind of knowledge, which is most indispensable to 
 common life, familiar to the unlearned, and acceptable to the 
 young ; that I have labored to inculcate into both, the love and 
 practice of that virtue of which they had before derived the prin- 
 ciples from higher sources, I will not deny to have attempted. 
 
 " To what is called learning I have never had any pretension. 
 Life and manners have been the objects of my unwearied obser- 
 vation, and every kind of study and habit has more or less 
 recommended itself to my mind, as it has had more or less refer- 
 ence to these objects. Considering this w^orld as a scene of 
 much action, and of little comparative knowledge; not as a 
 stage for exhibition, or a retreat for speculation, but as a field on 
 which the business which is to determine the concerns of eter- 
 nity is to be transacted ; as a place of low regard as an end, but 
 unspeakable importance as a means ; a scene of short experi- 
 ment, but lasting responsibility ; I have been contented to pursue 
 myself, and to present to others, (to my own sex chiefly,) those 
 truths, which, if obvious and familiar, are yet practical, and of 
 
FEMAXE BIOGRAPHY. 361 
 
 general application ; things, which if of little show, are yet of 
 some use ; and which, if their separate value be not great, yet 
 their aggregate importance is not inconsiderable. I have pur- 
 sued, not that which demands skill, and ensures renown, but 
 
 'That which before us Hes in daily life.' 
 
 " If I have been favored with a measure of success, which has 
 as much exceeded my expectation as my desert, I ascribe it partly 
 to a disposition in the public mind to encourage, in these days 
 of alarm, attack, and agitation, any productions of which the 
 tendency is favorable to good order and Christian morals, even 
 though the merit of the execution by no means keeps pace with 
 that of the principle. In some instances I trust I have written 
 seasonably when I have not been able to write well. Several 
 pieces perhaps, of small value in themselves, have helped to sup- 
 ply, in some inferior degree the exigence of the moment ; and 
 have had the advantage, not of superseding the necessity, or the 
 appearance, of abler writings, but of exciting abler writers ; who, 
 seeing how little I had been able to say on topics upon which 
 much might be said, have more than supplied my deficiencies 
 by filling up what I had only superficially sketched out. On 
 that which had only a temporary use, I do not aspire to build a 
 lasting reputation. 
 
 " In the progress of ages, and after the gradual accumulation 
 of literary productions, the human mind — I speak not of the 
 scholar, or the philosopher, but of the multitude — the human 
 mind, Athenian in this one propensity, the desire to hear and 
 to tell some new thing, will reject, or overlook, or grow weary 
 even of the standard w^orks of the most established authors : while 
 it will peruse with interest the current volume or popular pam- 
 phlet of the day. This hunger after novelty, by the way, is an 
 instrument of inconceivable importance, placed by Providence in 
 the hands of every waiter ; and should strike him forcibly with 
 the duty of turning this sharp appetite to good account, by ap- 
 peasing it with sound and wholesome aliment. It is not perhaps, 
 that the work in actual circulation is comparable to many works 
 
 which are neglected ; but it is new. And let the fortunate author 
 
 31 
 
362 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 militant, of moderate abilities, who is banqueting on his transient, 
 and perhaps accidental popularity, use that popularity wisely ; 
 and, bearing in mind that he himself must expect to be neglected 
 in his turn, let him thankfully seize his little season of fugitive 
 renown; let him devote his ephemeral importance, conscien- 
 tiously to throw into the common stock his quota of harmless 
 pleasure or of moral profit. Let him unaffectedly rate his hum- 
 ble, but not unuseful labors, at their just price, nor despondingly 
 conclude that he has written altogether in vain, though he do 
 not see a public revolution of manners succeed, as he had per- 
 haps too fondly flattered himself, to the publication of his book. 
 Let him not despair, if, though he have had many readers, he 
 has had but few converts. Nor let him on the other hand be 
 elated by a celebrity which he may owe more to his novelty than 
 to his genius, more to a happy combination in the circumstan- 
 ces of the times, than to his own skill or care ; and most of all, 
 to his having diligently observed, that 
 
 ' There is a tide in the affairs of men ;' 
 
 and to his having, accordingly, launched his bark at the favora- 
 ble flow. 
 
 " The well intentioned and well principled author, who has uni- 
 formly thrown all his weight, though that weight be but small, 
 into the right scale, may have contributed his fair proportion to 
 that great work of reformation, which will, I trust, unless atota. 
 subversion of manners should take place, be always carrying on 
 in the world ; but which the joint concurrence of the wisdom of 
 ages will find it hard to accomplish. Such an author may have 
 been in his season and degree, the accepted agent of that Provi- 
 dence who works by many and different instruments, by various 
 and successive means ; in the same manner as in the manual 
 labor of the mechanic, it is not by a few ponderous strokes that 
 great operations are effected, but by a patient and incessant fol- 
 lowing up of the blow — ^by reiterated and unwearied returns to 
 the same object; in the same manner as in the division of labor, 
 many hands of moderate strength and ability may, by co-opera- 
 tion, do that which a very powerful individual might have failed 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 363 
 
 to accomplish. It is the privilege of few authors to contribute 
 largely to the general good, but almost every one may contribute 
 something. No book perhaps is perfectly neutral ; nor are the 
 effects of any altogether indifferent. From all our reading there 
 will be a bias on the actings of the mind, though with a greater 
 or less degree of inclination, according to the degree of impres- 
 sion made, by the nature of the subject, the ability of the writer, 
 and the disposition of the reader. And though, as was above 
 observed, the whole may produce no general effect, proportion- 
 ate to the hopes of the author ; yet some truths may be picked 
 out from among many that are neglected ; some single sentiment 
 may be seized on for present use ; some detached principle may 
 be treasured up for future practice. 
 
 " If in the records of classic story we are told, that 'the most 
 superb and lasting monument that was ever consecrated to beauty, 
 was that to which every lover carried a tribute,' then among the 
 accumulated production of successive volumes, those which, 
 though they convey no new information, yet illustrate on the 
 whole some old truth ; those which, though they add nothing to 
 the stores of genius or of science, yet if they help to establish 
 and enforce a single principle of virtue, they may be accepted 
 as an additional mite cast by the willing hand of affectionate 
 indigence into the treasury of Christian morals. 
 
 " The great father of Roman eloquence has asserted, that though 
 every man should propose to himself the highest degrees in the 
 scale of excellence ; yet he may stop with honor at the second 
 or the third. Indeed, the utility of some books to some persons 
 would be defeated by their very superiority. The writer may 
 be above the reach of his reader ; he may be too lofty to be pur- 
 sued; he may be too profound to be fathomed: he may be too 
 abstruse to be investigated ; for to produce delight there must be 
 intelligence; there must be something of concert and congruity. 
 There must be not merely that intelligibility which arises from 
 the perspicuousness of the author, but that also which depends 
 on the capacity and perception of the reader. Between him 
 who writes and him who reads, there must be a kind of coalition 
 of interests, something of a partnership, (however unequal the 
 
364 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 capital,) in mental property; a sort of joint stock of tastes ana 
 ideas. The student must have been initiated into the same intel- 
 lectual commerce with him whom he studies ; for large bills are 
 only negotiable among the mutually opulent. 
 
 " There are perhaps other reasons why popularity is no infal- 
 lible test of excellence. Many readers, even of good faculties, 
 if those faculties have been kept inert by a disuse of exertion, 
 feel often most sympathy with writers of a middle class ; and 
 find more repose in a mediocrity which lulls and amuses the 
 mind, than with a loftiness and extent which exalts and expands 
 ]t. To enjoy works of superlative ability, as was before sug- 
 gested, the reader must have been accustomed to drink at the 
 same spring from which the writer draws ; he must be at the 
 «^xpense of furnishing part of his own entertainment, by bringing 
 -^vith him a share" of the science or of the spirit with which the 
 author writes. 
 
 " These are some of the considerations, which, while my grati- 
 tude has been excited by the favorable reception of my various 
 attempts, have helped to correct that vanity which is so easily 
 kindled where merit and success are evidently disproportionate. 
 
 " For fair criticism I have ever been truly thankful. For can- 
 did correction, from whatever quarter it came, I have always ex- 
 hibited the most unquestionable proof of my regard, by adopting it. 
 Nor can I call to mind any instance of improvement which has 
 been suggested to me by which I have neglected to profit.* I 
 am not insensible to human estimation. To the approbation of 
 the wise and good I have been perhaps but too sensible. But I 
 check myself in the indulgence of the dangerous pleasure, by 
 recollecting that the hour is fast approaching to all, to me it is 
 very fast approaching, when no human verdict, of whatever 
 authority in itself, and however favorable to its object, will avail 
 any thing, but inasmuch as it is crowned with the acquittal of 
 that Judge whose favor is eternal life. Every emotion of vanity 
 
 *If it be objected that this has not been the case with respect to one single 
 passage which has excited some controversy, it has aiisen not from any want 
 of openness of conviction in me, but from my conceiving myself to have been 
 misunderstood, and, for that reason only, misrepresented. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 365 
 
 dies away, e\''ery swelling of ambition subsides before the con- 
 sideration of this solemn responsibility. And though I have just 
 avowed my deference for the opinion of private critics, and of pub- 
 lic censors, yet my anxiety Avith respect to the sentence of both is 
 considerably diminished, by the reflection, that not the writings 
 but the writer will very soon be called to another tribunal, to be 
 judged on far other grounds than those on which the decisions 
 of literary statutes are framed; a tribunal at which the sentence 
 passed will depend on far other causes than the observation or 
 neglect of the rules of composition : than the violation of any 
 precepts, or the adherence to any decrees of critic legislation. 
 
 " With abundant cause to be humbled at the mixed motives 
 of even my least exceptionable writings, I am willing to hope that 
 in those of later date, at least, vanity, has not been the governing 
 principle. And if in sending abroad the present collection, some 
 sparks of this inextinguishable fire should struggle to break out, 
 let it be at once quenched by the reflection, that of those persons 
 whose kindness stimulated, and whose partiality rewarded, my 
 early efforts; of those who would have dwelt on these pages 
 with most pleasure, the eyes of the greater part are closed, to 
 open no more in this world. Even while the pen is in my hand, 
 framing this remark, more than one affecting corroboration of 
 its truth occurs. May this reflection, at once painful and salu- 
 tary, be ever at hand to curb the insolence of success, or to 
 countervail the mortification of defeat ! May it serve to purify 
 the motives of action, while it inspires resignation to its event ! 
 And may it affect both without diminishing the energies of duty, 
 without abating the activity of labor." 
 
 Harriet Newell a distinguished missionary, was the 
 daughter of Moses Atwood, a merchant of Haverhill, Massachu- 
 setts. She was born October 10th, 1793. She was educated at 
 Bradford academy, with Miss Hazeltine, afterwards Mrs. Judson. 
 She was four years younger than that celebrated woman. She 
 became pious about the same time, and there can be no doubt 
 that the determination of Miss Hazeltine to unite herself with 
 
 Mr. Judson, and to become a missionary to the East Indies, had 
 
 31* 
 
366 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 a great effect on her destiny. She was married at the same 
 time with her friend, and embarked on board the same vessel 
 for India, on the nineteenth day of February, 1812; but after 
 reaching Calcutta, she, with her husband, was ohliged to embark 
 for the Isle of France, not being permitted to stay at Calcutta. 
 On the eighth of October she became the mother of a daughter, 
 who lived but live days, and was buried in the ocean. On 
 reaching the Isle of France she lingered until the twentieth of 
 November 1812, just nine months and a day after leaving the 
 shores of her native land. She was indeed the first martyr in 
 the missionary cause, but she never had the slightest opportu- 
 nity to exert her activity and benevolence in a cause which she, 
 no doubt, had near at heart. She was a young woman of fair 
 talents and respectable acquirements, and of unquestionable 
 piety. She had naturally a feeble constitution, which could not 
 support the ill she was called to suffer. She died a most hopeful 
 Christian. She wished not to survive her confinement and the 
 loss of her babe, but was desirous of sinking into the sweet 
 slumbers of the grave, and her wish was granted. Before her 
 departure she had written many letters to her female friends, 
 which are proofs of good talents, and a warm heart, devoted 
 to the great causes of charity and religion. She left a circle of 
 friends dear to her, to engage in the missionary cause at an early 
 period of life, for she was only nineteen years of age at her 
 death. In every good and great cause there must be martyrs, 
 and she was the first among American missionaries in India. 
 Mr. Newell survived his wife for several years, and died at 
 Bombay of the spasmodic cholera, having probably taken the 
 disease in attending the sick and dying. He was a man of 
 some learning, great zeal, and well suited to his calling. The 
 account of the death of his wife is indeed touching ; it bears the 
 marks of genuine affection, which is better than a world of poetry 
 in speaking of the sorrows of the heart. The novelty of mis- 
 sionary enterprise has gone by, and the matter has become an 
 every day business ; but still it requires courage and perseverance 
 to engage in the cause. Some have questioned the utility of 
 their labors, but when we consider the information brought to 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 367 
 
 light by their exertions, the number of translations of the holy 
 scriptures which they have multiplied, who would venture to 
 say that their efforts have been useless ? If ever the world is 
 to be Christianized, it must be by multiplying the sacred volume, 
 and by carrying it to all tongues and people. 
 
 NiTRocRis, a celebrated queen of Babylon, who built abridge 
 across the Euphrates, in the middle of that city, and dug a num- 
 ber of reservoirs for the superfluous waters of that river. She 
 ordered herself to be buried over one of the gates of the city, 
 and had an inscription on her tomb, which signified that her 
 successors would find great treasures within, if ever they were 
 in need of money; but that their labors would be but ill rep-aid 
 if ever they ventured to open it without necessity. Cyrus opened 
 it through curiosity, and was struck to find within it these 
 words : If thy avarice had not been insatiable, thou never 
 wouldst have violated the monuments of the dead. 
 
 OcTAViA, grand niece of Julius Cassar, and sister to Augustus, 
 was the daughter of Caius Octavius and Atia, Romans of dis- 
 tinguished birth and virtue. She received, in the house of her 
 parents, a strict and exemplary education ; she was early accus- 
 tomed to control her feelings, to discipline her imagination, to 
 sacrifice her inclinations to others, and to impart the benefits she 
 received. The modesty of her deportment, her unaffected and 
 simple manners, the beauty of her person, her virtues and fine 
 qualities, rendered her the boast and ornament of the court ; 
 while her splendid connections, and affinity to the adopted son 
 of Caesar, procured her the devotion of the Roman youth, who 
 eagerly aspired to her alliance. Octavia, humble and unam- 
 bitious, shunned the public homage ; dreading to be made a 
 sacrifice to political motives, she sighed after that purer happi- 
 ness, which, seated in the mind, gratifies the heart and its affec- 
 tions. It was proposed, during the civil war between Caesar 
 and Pompey, that Octavia should be given to the latter as a 
 pledge of union, and that a period might be put to the dissen- 
 sions which desolated Rome ; but other circumstances arising, 
 
368 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 interrupted this negociation, and for the present, delivered the 
 princess from a destiny which, however adverse to her feelings, 
 she had determined not to oppose. That the happiness of indi- 
 Adduals should yield to the public welfare, was a principle which 
 had been early impressed on her mind. 
 
 Claudius Marcellus, at this time, possessed the consular 
 dignity, and with it, the respect and confidence of the citizens. 
 The reputation of his virtues had attracted the attention of 
 Octavia ; by a farther acquaintance v/ith his character, esteem 
 was softened into tenderness ; the princess rejoiced when she 
 found herself destined, by her brother, to be the wife of a man 
 whom her judgment and her heart equally approved. Marcellus 
 united to an agreeable person and engaging manners, the quali- 
 ties of a Roman citizen, of a hero, and of a sage. In these 
 nuptials, Octavia found realized the most sanguine wishes of a 
 virtuous and tender heart. Marcellus loved his wife with entire 
 affection, and confided in her as a friend ; they seemed anima- 
 ted but by one soul ; while their affections, their pursuits, their 
 taste, and their judgment, were in perfect unison. 
 
 This harmony received no other interruption than from the 
 calamities with which the state was torn, when the proscription of 
 the triumvirs deluged Rome with blood. Octavia exerted, on 
 this occasion, her influence with her brother, to humanize his 
 heart, and put a stop to the effusion of Roman blood. She refused 
 her protection and good offices to no one, while her house was 
 the refusfe of the unfortunate. When these troubles were in 
 some degree allayed, Octavia requested permission to retire, with 
 her husband, from the tumults of the city, to devote themselves 
 to the leisure of a tranquil and studious life. But the pleasure 
 which Octavius experienced in their society, frustrated the exe- 
 cution of this plan, and still detained them in the capital. Octavia 
 took no share in the dissipations of the court, or the amusements 
 common to her cex and rank ; secluded in her house, and devo- 
 ted to her husband, she assisted him in his serious occupations, 
 shared his pleasures, and passed in his society her most delight- 
 ful hours. 
 
 Weeks and months thus glided away in delicious tranquility, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 369 
 
 when Marcellus was suddenly seized with a fever, which, in its 
 commencement, exhibited the most malignant symptoms; his 
 physicians, at the expiration of two days, despaired of his re- 
 covery, and exhorted him to settle his affairs. Marcellus, 
 receiving the sentence of his death with manly fortitude, em- 
 ployed the short remainder of a useful and exemplary life, in 
 consoling his beloved wife, in entreating her to support with 
 firmness their separation, and to transfer to the pledges of their 
 affection her cares and tenderness. The best support of his 
 dying moments, he assured her, would be the conviction, that 
 she would bear with resignation his loss ; that she would not 
 indulge in weak though fruitless sorrow ; but look forward to 
 nevv scenes of happiness, which her virtues merited, and of 
 which her youth, her rank, and the vicissitudes of human af- 
 fairs, gave her a reasonable prospect. Having breathed his 
 last, the sorrow which, while her services might be yet useful, 
 Octavia had stifled in her bosom, burst forth uncontrolled ; while 
 overpowered by the acuteness of her anguish, she sunk into a 
 trance, and remained for some hours insensible to her loss. 
 Time only could soften a grief so deep, sincere, and reasonable. 
 Octavia found in her widowhood no mitigation of her affliction, 
 but in calling to mind the dying injunctions of her husband, 
 and the duties and cares which her children demanded. With 
 the consent of her brother, she retired from Rome, for the pur- 
 pose of devoting herself to the education of her offspring, the 
 only object which now attached her to life. 
 
 Soon after this period, the civil war having commenced be- 
 tween Octavius and Antony, it was proposed by the common 
 friends of the triumvirs, that as a pledge of conciliation, the 
 widow of Marcellus should be bestowed on Antony. Octavia 
 heard this proposal with horror and repugnance ; she knew not 
 how to promise to Antony, vi^hose infatuation to the queen of 
 Egypt, and whose neglect of his former wife had been notori- 
 ous, that affection and respect Avhich the tenderness and virtues 
 of Marcellus had made not less her duty than her happiness. 
 She felt the dissimilarity of her own character to that of the 
 man who now demanded her, and the sacrifice which was 
 
370 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 exacted from her; she foresaw the misery into which she was 
 about to be plunged, while the peace of Rome, and the duties 
 which she owed to her distracted country, struggled with her 
 repugnance ; after a severe internal conflict, hopeleSvS of happi- 
 ness, she determined to become a victim to the public safety. 
 
 By the Roman laws, widows were forbidden, within the first 
 ten months of their widowhood, to contract a new engagement ; 
 but, from motives of state, a dispensation was on this occasion 
 granted for the marriage of Octavia. A renewal of the civil 
 war was dreaded by the people ; the most auspicuous hopes 
 were, from the beauty, and fine qualities of Octavia, entertained 
 from this union ; common forms appeared comparatively unim- 
 portant ; the nuptials were accordingly hastened, and celebrated 
 in Rome, in the year 714, amid the joyful acclamations of the 
 nation. The sadness which clouded the brow of the bride, 
 seemed to ^n'eld to the public demonstration of satisfaction ; con- 
 scious of having bestowed on Antony, with an alienated heart, 
 a reluctant hand, she determined to make up, by the attentive 
 dischara:e of her duties, for the absence of those sentiments over 
 which she felt she had no control. 
 
 A peace being thus concluded between the triumvirs, Augus- 
 tus continued in Italy, while Antony, with Octavia, passed into 
 Greece, and remained during the winter at Athens. The Athe- 
 nians omitted no respect due to the rank and virtues of Octavia, 
 who, observing her husband at times emerging from the licen- 
 tious habits which he had but too habitually indulged, and seek- 
 ing the society of men of science and learning, began to be 
 better reconciled to her situation, and to cherish hopes of his 
 reformation. While her youth and beauty, her gentleness, her 
 complaisance and watchful attentions, appeared to gain an influ- 
 ence over the mind of Antony, and to banish from his recollec- 
 tion his Egyptian mistress, the grateful sense which he mani- 
 fested of her conduct awakened a real tenderness in the sensible 
 heart of Octavia. 
 
 These promising appearances were of no long duration ; the 
 gentleness and affection of Octavia were of a nature too uniform 
 for senses accustomed to the stimulus of licentious gratification. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 371 
 
 her virtaes, her ingenuousness, her simplicity, were feeble attrac- 
 tions to a debauched imagination, corrupted by meretricious arts ; 
 even the zeal with which she entered into his interest, and the 
 frankness with which she suggested plans for his advantage, dis- 
 gusted the self love of Antony. In the clear judgment and admi- 
 rable understanding of his wife, he seemed to find a rival, while 
 the homage which her virtues exacted appeared a tacit reproach 
 to his vices. Cleopatra had governed him by artifice and flattery ; 
 the sincerity of Octavia was offensive to his vanity, 
 
 Augustus, still engaged in a war with the son of Pompey, 
 demanded succors from Antony, who, under pretence of assist- 
 ing him, but for the real purpose of informing himself of the 
 state of affairs at Rome, and of deriving from them advantage, 
 returned to Italy. A mutual jealousy and coldness ensued ; An- 
 tony, refused entrance in the haven of Brandusium, put into 
 Tarentum, whence, at her request, he sent Octavia to her brother. 
 Augustus, touched by the remonstrances and supplications of a 
 beloved sister, consented to wave the cause of his contention with 
 her husband, and to return with her to Tarentum. On this occa- 
 sion, reciprocal demonstrations of reconciliation and friendship, 
 through the mediation of Octavia, passed between the princes. 
 
 After this interview, Antony, leaving Octavia with her brother 
 in Italy, returned into the east, where he again fell into the 
 snares of Cleopatra. While occupied in the duties of her fa- 
 mily, (to which she had added the children of Antony by his 
 former marriage,) Octavia continued at Rome, she heard with 
 sorrow, but without anger, of the infatuation of her husband, 
 and of the disastrous issue of the Parthian campaign. Having 
 vainly endeavored to palliate to her brother his conduct, alarmed 
 for the safety of this unworthy husband, she resolved to return 
 into the east, and to make a last effort to avert from him the 
 evils by w^hich he was menaced. Having prepared to execute 
 her determination, she received letters from Antony, who had 
 been informed of her design, commanding her to stop at Athens, 
 where she soon learned that, absorbed in his passion for the 
 queen of Egypt, he was solicitous to avoid the presence of his 
 wife. To the harsh mandate which stopped her progress, she 
 
372 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 * 
 
 returned an answer full of meekness and submission, requesting 
 directions in what manner to dispose of the presents she had 
 brought with her, and of which she solicited Antony's accept- 
 ance. By an answer, still more severe and peremptory, her 
 immediate return to Rome was commanded; proper orders, it 
 was added, would be given for the disposal of the presents, 
 which she might leave behind her in Athens. On receiving 
 these commands, Octavia, without a murmur at the indignities 
 which she suffered, returned to Rome ; and, taking up her resi- 
 dence in the house of her husband, notwithstanding the remon- 
 strances and entreaties of her brother, who urged her to leave 
 him to his fate, devoted herself to the education of her own and 
 his children. She omitted no endeavors to soothe the pride and 
 resentment of Augustus, while she implored him not to make 
 her wrongs, which she could sustain with fortitude, a pretence 
 of involving Rome in the miseries of a civil war. When at 
 length, at the instigation of her rival, she was, by order of An- 
 tony, compelled to quit his house, her tears flowed more for the 
 fatal consequences she apprehended from this insult, than from 
 her own peculiar sorrows. 
 
 This heroic conduct tended but to accelerate those evils to her 
 country, which she was solicitous to avert. The contempt and 
 indignation of the people were roused by the infatuation of 
 Antony, whom the artifices of a voluptuous woman held in dis- 
 graceful bondage, blinding him to the merits of his admirable 
 wife, who surpassed her rival, not merely in the qualities of the 
 heart and mind, but in the attractions of youth and beauty. In 
 proportion as she exerted herself to lessen, by patient cheerful- 
 ness, and in kind offices to the children and friends of her hus- 
 band, the public sense of her injuries, she added, without intend- 
 ing it, fuel to the hatred and rage of the nation. Being desirous 
 of making one more effort to recal, by her personal influence, 
 the affections of her husband, she obtained permission of her 
 brother to execute her purpose, in the secret hope that, by the 
 multiplied insults of Antony to his incomparable wife, the 
 Romans might be roused to vengeance. Cleopatra, informed of 
 the design of her rival, and dreading the effect of her merit and 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 373 
 
 perseverance, put in practice every artifice, to induce her lover 
 to forbid her approach. She represented to him, that it was 
 sufficient glory for Octavia, to bear the title of his wife, while 
 herself, a sovereign princess, submitted to that of mistress ; nor, 
 so ardent was the passion with which he had inspired her, could 
 she think herself degraded by the proofs she had given him of 
 her affection, while he did not, by separating himself from her, 
 plunge her into despair. The friends of Antony, on the other 
 side, pressed him to send back Cleopatra from Ephesus, whither 
 she had followed him, and to avert, by this measure, the storm 
 which threatened him from Rome. But the influence of his 
 mistress triumphed over the subjected mind of her lover, whom 
 she prevailed on to take her with him wherever he should re- 
 move. On their arrival at Athens, where Octavia had been 
 received with peculiar distinction, the queen of Egypt courted 
 popularity by the most lavish generosity. 
 
 The war, which the imprudence of Antony at length pro- 
 voked, terminated in his ruin. After the battle of Actium, in 
 which, betrayed by Cleopatra, he fled covered with disgrace, 
 Octavia, by repeated messages, entreated him to authorzie her 
 mediation with her brother, and to allow her to be the pledge of 
 his future conduct, while she assured him of her forgiveness of 
 the past, and her determination never, by recrimination or re- 
 proach, to revive the memory of his disaster. But vain were all 
 the efforts of this heroic and unfortunate woman ; Antony, deaf 
 to her supplications, chose rather to die with her perfidious rival. 
 Octavia, illustrious in virtue and in descent, to whom nature 
 and fortune had been equally lavish, the dawn of whose life pro- 
 mised a brilliant and unclouded day, beheld the sun of her pros- 
 perity set at noon ; over the remainder of her life thick dark- 
 ness rested, while towards its close, the gloom deepened. Mar- 
 cus Claudius Marcellus, her son by her former marriage, who 
 inherited the virtues of his parents, was the pride and boast 
 of Rome ; while united to the daughter of Augustus, he was 
 regarded as presumptive heir of the empire. This son, so dear 
 to Octavia, in whom his father seemed yet to survive, died in 
 
 the flower of his age. From a blow thus severe, which seemed 
 
 32 
 
374 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to fill up the measure of her calamities, Octavia never recovered. 
 The eulogy of Marcellus, composed by Virgil, is inserted in 
 the ^nead, book VI. verse 860. On its recital by the poet, in 
 the presence of Augustus and his sister, the emperor melted into 
 tears, and the unhappy mother swooned away. 
 
 Octavia gave up the remainder of her life to solitude; in 
 which, brooding incessantly over her misfortunes her temper 
 became soured, and her mind broken ; cherishing a spirit of 
 misanthropy, she even sickened at the glory of her brother. She 
 could not endure to hear any woman named who possessed the 
 happiness of being a mother ; she would suffer no person to 
 speak to her of her son, on whom, notwithstanding, her thoughts 
 perpetually dwelt; she rejected all comfort and amusement, 
 appeared buried in the most profound sadness, and sought dark- 
 ness and solitude ; clothed in deep mourning, she appeared 
 to have lost all interest in life, and to become indifferent to the 
 fate of her children who survived. Repeated sorrows had ex- 
 hausted her fortitude ; the spring of her mind was weakened by 
 suffering. If at times she returned to the studies in which she 
 had before delighted, philosophy was found ineffectual to heal 
 the wound of a deeply lacerated spirit. 
 
 In this situation she suffered life thirteen years, and died uni- 
 versally esteemed and pitied, in 744, at Rome. She left two 
 daughters, the offspring of her union with Antony, who formed 
 advantageous alliances. A temple, it is said by Pausanius, was 
 erected at Corinth, in honor of her constancy and virtues. She 
 took into her own family the children of Cleopatra, whose 
 daughter she gave in marriage to the king of Mauritania, cele- 
 brated for his wisdom and knowledgfe of the sciences. 
 
 Phcebe Phillips. This remarkable woman, who died at 
 Andover, in the year 1818, was born at Cambridge, Massachu- 
 setts. She was the daughter of Mr. Foxcroft, a gentleman of 
 wealth and high standing, who gave her a good education for 
 the times. To her intimate acquaintance with the faculty of 
 Harvard University from childhood, may, in some measure, be 
 attributed her elegant style of conversation, which surpassed 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 375 
 
 that of any one, male or female, in this country. She saw the 
 subject under consideration, in all its bearings, and clothed it in 
 most felicitous languag-e. There Avas no redundancy — no stint 
 — ^no singularity, except that of supreme refinement — nothing to 
 excite surprise, in her conversation ; but the most learned list- 
 ened with profound admiration at her taste and skill in language. 
 She was fond of her pen, and took delight in keeping up an 
 extensive correspondence with literary and religious persons. 
 She wrote with great ease and rapidity, in a chirography, at 
 once plain as a printed page, and whose beauty was only ex- 
 ceeded by the thought it contained. She was married to feamuel 
 Phillips, of Andover, a young man, at that period most zealously 
 engaged in the cause of his country, anxious for its political 
 prosperity, and for its advancement in learning ; and he found a 
 most admirable coadjutor in his wife. During the dark period 
 of the revolution, she sat up until midnight, with the females of 
 her household, to make garments for the poor destitute soldiers, 
 and in scraping lint or cutting bandages for the hospitals. The 
 sick, in her neighborhood, of all classes, were inquired after, and 
 every thing that could administer to their comfort was sent from 
 her hospitable mansion. 
 
 The academy, founded by her husband and his uncle, was in 
 the immediate vicinity of her residence, and every pupil's health 
 Avas a subject of her attention ; and to those who had come from 
 a distance, and had no natural guardian near, she acted the part 
 of a parent, at all times. Devoted to religion, with more than 
 •' the cloistered maiden's zeal," she had not a particle of bigotry 
 in her disposition, and one might have lived with her for years 
 without knowing her sentiments upon any particular point in 
 divinity. At her table — for h-er husband was so deeply engaged 
 in politics and business, that he left all the household cares 
 upon her — might be found, almost every day in the week, 
 clergymen who met no where else, from a difference in creeds, 
 and persons of distinction in the various callings of life, and 
 from different parts of the country. For more than forty years 
 this hospitality was uninterrupted, and her cares unceasing. 
 
 Her person was striking, tall above most women ; her mien 
 
376 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 was majestic, without any awkwardness from her height ; her 
 features were prominent, but softened by a fine mild expression ; 
 and her large blue eye was full of sweetness of temper, while it 
 beamed with genius. Seldom has it been that any woman was 
 so capable of doing good as she, and more seldom have been 
 the opportunities to exercise the capacity. There has scarcely 
 been a single individual who ever knew her, that had not some 
 remembrance of her talents and virtues in his mind, and most 
 of them could relate some acts of kindness toward themselves. 
 She made no parade of attainments ; but all her information 
 seemed to flow in conversation, as though it w-ere intuitive, and 
 addressed to those in company, as if she considered every one 
 about her superior to herself, in memory and reasoning powers 
 — in fact, in every attainment and gift. Her charity for all, 
 was that which suffers long, but her discrimination was admi- 
 rable. She saw at a glance into the elements of character. 
 The writer of this faint sketch of a most excellent woman, re- 
 collects numerous prophecies upon the future developement of 
 the talents of children about her, and hardly one of them but has 
 proved true, of those who lived to form a character. When 
 others judged by a lesson, or a few recitations, she formed her 
 opinion from some act or remark of the boy which might have 
 passed unnoticed by others. With all her firmness of soul, she 
 had a heart most feelingly alive to the misfortunes of others. 
 Often "her pity gave ere charity began;" and she was dis- 
 tressed even at the sufferings of the wicked. Her maxims 
 sunk deep into the minds of those who had the good fortune of 
 hearing them, and her commands were never forgotten. A lad, 
 seeing from her window a wretched looking man, going to the 
 whipping post to receive corporeal punishment for a petty lar- 
 ceny, sentenced by a justice of the peace to this ignominy, strove 
 to conceal a tear, but this excellent w^oman observed it. With 
 one starting in her own eye, she emphatically said to him, 
 " When you become a law maker, examine the subject of cor- 
 poral punishment, and see if it is not unnatural, vindictive, and 
 productive of much evil." In early manhood he became a le- 
 gislator, and remembering the words which made a strong 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 377 
 
 impression at the time, he called the attention of the assembly 
 to the subject, and in the course of a short time, had the 
 satisfaction of announcing to her, that the statute book had been 
 expurgated, in this respect, and that there was, in future, to be 
 no more corporal punishment for any offence less than capital. 
 After her husband's death she was one of the founders of the 
 Theological Seminary at Andover, and took a deep interest in 
 the institution as long as she lived. 
 
 Falconia Anicia, or Valeria Proba, wife of Anicius 
 Probus, who was a Roman consul in 371, with the emperor 
 Gratian. She rendered herself illustrious by her understanding 
 and piety, St. Augustine, Chrysostom, and Jerome, have 
 praised her in the highest manner. She composed a life of our 
 Savior, by putting together divers lines and passages of Virgil, 
 with which she formed what the Latins call a Centos, a sort of 
 composition with more conceit than merit in it. This work was 
 printed at Venice in 1472, and again, by Wolius, in 1734, 4to. 
 
 Phillippa, of Hainault, queen of England, was betrothed 
 to Edward, when prince of Wales, in 1325, through the media- 
 tion of Isabella his mother, who sojourned a short time at the 
 court of the earl of Hainault, when preparing to pass over to 
 England with her son, both of whom had been declared traitors. 
 After the death of the king, and the coronation of Edward III., 
 certain ambassadors were sent to demand the lady Phillippa, 
 who was conveyed to England in great state, and on the day of 
 the conversion of St. Paul, the marriage and coronation of the 
 queen was solemnized. The rejoicings, &c., lasted three weeks. 
 She founded Queen's College, Oxford, about 1366. 
 
 Christina de Pisan, an Italian lady, was born at Venice in 
 
 1 363. At the age of fifteen she was married, but became a 
 
 widow two years afterwards ; on which she had recourse to her 
 
 pen for support. She wrote poems which were printed at Paris 
 
 in 1529; the "Treasure of the city of Dames" was printed in 
 
 1497: and the " Long Way," -translated by Chaperon, in 1549. 
 
 32» 
 
378 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Anthony Widville, Earl Rivers, translated a work of hers entitled 
 " The Moral Proverbs of Christian of Pyse," printed by Caxton. 
 
 Katherine Phillips, celebrated under the poetical name 
 of Orinda, was daughter of John Fowler, of Backlenburg, Lon- 
 don, merchant, and of Katherine, daughter of Daniel Oxenbridge, 
 M. D., was born in the parish of St. Mary Wool church, Lon- 
 don, January, 1st., 1G31. A female relation, Mrs. Blackett, had 
 the charge of her infancy and early childhood. At eight years 
 of age, she was placed in a school at Hackney, under the care 
 of Mr. Salmon, where her improvements were singular and 
 rapid. She displayed an early taste for poetical composition, 
 and a devotional turn of mind, somewhat enthusiastic, origina- 
 ting probably in the sensibility of temper inseparable from 
 'genius, and in the spirit and manners of the times. She had 
 perused the bible throughout before she was four years of age, 
 and had committed to memory many passages and chapters. 
 At ten years of age she would repeat, with scarce any omissions, 
 entire sermons, of which she was a frequent hearer. She also 
 began early to exercise her fancy in poetical composition. She 
 acquired a perfect knowledge of the French language, and 
 applied herself successfully to the Latin, with the assistance of 
 an ingenious friend. Sir Charles Cotterel. She was educated 
 in the principles of the presbyterian dissenters, but became 
 afterwards a proselyte to the established church, and the royal- 
 ist party. 
 
 In the year 1647, she gave her hand to James Phillips, Esq., 
 of the priory of Cardigan. The fortune of Mr. Phillips being 
 encumbered and embarrassed, Mrs. Phillips, by her economy, 
 prudence, and excellent management, added to her interest with 
 Sir Charles Cotterel, whose friendship for her rendered him 
 zealous in the cause of her husband, nearly extricated him, in 
 the course of a few years, from the difficulties in which he had 
 been involved. 
 
 During her retirement at Cardigan, she cultivated poetry as 
 an amusement, to beguile her solitary hours. Copies of her 
 poems being dispersed among her friends, they were collected, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 379 
 
 and published anonymously, in 8vo, 1633, without the knowledge 
 or consent of the author, Mrs. Philip's vexation at this circum- 
 stance, which she appears acutely to feel, and sensibly laments, 
 in a letter to Sir Charles Cotterel, occasioned her a severe fit of 
 illness. 
 
 The charms of her conversation, her modesty, sweetness, and 
 unassuming manners, rendered her the delight of her acquaint- 
 ance, while her genius and talents procured for her the friend- 
 ship of men, distinguished for their merit, their talents, and their 
 rank, among whom may be 'mentioned the earls of Ormond, 
 Orrery, and Roscommon. The affairs of Mr. Philips, having 
 rendered the presence of his wife necessary in Ireland, she ac- 
 companied thither the viscountess Dungannon, and was received 
 with distinction and esteem. During her residence in that 
 kingdom, she was induced, by the importunity of the before 
 mentioned noblemen, to translate into English, from the French 
 of Corneille, the tragedy of Pompey, which was acted with ap- 
 plause on the Irish stage, in 1663, also, in 1664, when it was 
 printed, and given to the public, and a prologue added, by Lord 
 Roscommon. 
 
 Mrs. Philips, also translated from the French of Corneille, 
 the tragedy of Horace, to which a fifth act was added by Sir 
 John Denham ; and which was represented by persons of rank, 
 at court, with a prologue spoken by the duke of Monmouth. 
 
 In Ireland, Mrs. Philips renewed a former friendship with 
 Dr. Jeremy Taylor, bishop of Downe, and Connor, who some 
 time previously, had published and inscribed to her, " A Dis- 
 course of the Nature, Office, and Measure of Friendship, with 
 Rules of conducting it, in a Letter to the most ingenious and 
 excellent Mrs. Katharine Phillips." In this production many 
 high compliments are paid to the sex, to their capacity of friend- 
 ship, and the more elevated virtues, exemplified by allusions to 
 the celebrated characters of antiquity. 
 
 Mrs. Philips left Ireland in 1663, and in London she was 
 unfortunately seized with the small pox, which proving fatal, 
 she expired June, 22d, 1664, in the thirty-fourth year of her age. 
 
 Her poems and translations, were, after her decease, collected, 
 
380 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and published in one volume, folio, in 1667, and entitled, " Po- 
 ems, by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katharine Phillips, 
 the matchless Orinda; to which^'Tire added, M. Corneille's Pora- 
 pey, and Horace, Tragedies ; with several other Translations 
 from the French : and her picture before them, engraved by 
 Faithowe." A second edition was printed in 1678, in the pre- 
 face to which, the reader is told, " that Mrs. Phillips wrote famil- 
 iar letters 'with facility, in a very fair hand, and perfect orthogra- 
 phy; which, if collected, with the excellent discourses written 
 by her on various subjects, would make a volume much larger 
 than her poems." 
 
 Mrs. Phillips, is said, by Mr. Langbain, to have equalled the 
 Lesbian Sappho, in genius, and the Roman Sulpicia, in virtue. 
 To this he adds, "as they were praised by Horace, Martial, Au- 
 sonius, and other eminent poets, so was this lady commended by 
 the earls of Orrery, and Roscommon, by Cowley, and other emi- 
 nent men." An anonymous writer, in the second volume of the 
 duke of Wharton's works, thus speaks of Mrs. Phillips : " 1 
 have been looking into the writings of Mrs. Phillips, and have 
 been wonderfully pleased with her solid and masculine thoughts, 
 in no feminine style. Her refined and rational ideas of friend- 
 ship, a subject she delights in, show a soul above the common 
 level of mankind, and raise my desire of practising what is thus 
 nobly described. Though I know nothing of Mrs. Phillips, 
 but what I have learned from her poems, I am persuaded she 
 was not less discreet, good humored, modest, constant, and vir- 
 tuous, than ingenious. " 
 
 PoMPEiA Plotina, a Roman lady, who married Trajan 
 when he was only a private man. When he was made empe- 
 ror, she behaved with the greatest affability, and won all the 
 hearts of Rome. She accompanied her husband in his war in 
 the east, and shared all the privations of a long campaign. He 
 perished in the undertaking ; but she brought home his ashes 
 to be buried in Rome. She raised, by the influence she pos- 
 sessed, Adrian to the throne, who permitted her to live in the city 
 in regal state, and to receive from all the functionaries of govern- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 381 
 
 ment all the honor and reverence due a queen. She had a well 
 balanced mind, and in every situation discovered the finest 
 talents and the loftiest virtues. Rome had, at this period, grown 
 corrupt ; but she did not share in its profligacy. When every 
 thing around her seemed conducive to break down the virtue of 
 an ordinary mind, she rose above it. 
 
 Mary Sydney, countess of Pembroke, sister of Sir Phil- 
 lip Sydney, married Henry, earl of Pembroke, in 1576. She 
 had received a liberal education and was distinguished for her 
 highly cultivated mind, and superior talents. She translated 
 some of the psalms from the Hebrew into English ; and from 
 the French, " A Discourse of Life and Death," printed in 1600, 
 12mo. She also wrote "An Elegy on her Brother," a "Pas- 
 toral Dialogue in praise of queen Elizabeth," and other poems. 
 She survived her husband twenty years, and having lived to an 
 advanced age, died, September 25th, 1601. She was interred 
 with the Pembroke family, in the church of the cathedral, at 
 Salisbury, without any monument. The following lines, de- 
 signed as an inscription for her tomb, were written by the famed 
 Ben Jonson : 
 
 "Underneath this sable herse. 
 Lies the subject of all verse ; 
 Sydney's sister, Pembroke's mother. 
 Death, ere thou hast killed another 
 Fair, and learned, and good as she, 
 Time shall throw a dart at thee !" 
 
 Pocahontas. In every age and nation, rare instances of 
 genius and benevolence have been found; but in the whole range 
 of uneducated nations, no female can be produced that has supe- 
 rior claims to Pocahontas, the Indian princess, daughter to the 
 sachem of Virginia, Powhatan. This princess was born some 
 where about 1594, according to Captain Smith's conjecture, for 
 the savages have no methods of keeping an exact register of 
 births, or deaths, and their computations by seasons or moons 
 were seldom accurate. The first that was known of Pocahontas 
 was in the year 1607, when that prince of chivalry. Captain 
 
382 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 John Smith, whose fame had filled the old world, came to this 
 continent for adventures, and in exploring the country about 
 James's river, was taken prisoner by some of the warriors of the 
 tribes under Powhatan, and brought this powerful chief to be 
 disposed of according to his will and decree. The fame and 
 exploits of Smith had reached Powhatan. The prowess he 
 had shown when taken was sufficient for their justification in 
 taking him off; for he had been a wonder and terror to all his 
 foes. Powhatan was as far an absolute despot as can exist in a 
 state of nature. But the chief did not decide alone upon Captain 
 Smith's fate ; he called a council of his chiefs upon his case. 
 In this convention the most wonderful stories of the white man's 
 prowess, since he had been in this country, were told. Smith 
 understood enough of the Indian language to comprehend the 
 course of the debate, and made up his mind to die. Pocahontas 
 was a listener in the council. Heroism and beauty have always 
 an efl^ect on the female heart ; and even age and philosophy are 
 not proof against these magicians. It was decided that he must 
 die, as being too formidable a foe to suffer to escape. His death 
 was to be by beating him on the head with clubs while he was 
 in a recumbent posture, with a stone for a pillow. He was first 
 bound, and then thrown down, and the clubs were uplifted, when 
 Pocahontas, then a mere child, rushed forward and threw her- 
 self on the body of Smith, and protected his life at the risk of 
 her own. The fierce savage hearts of the warriors were affect- 
 ed, and Smith was at once released, and became an inmate for a 
 while, of the wiofwam of Powhatan, and soon afterwards re- 
 leased, carrying with him a grateful sense of the services ren- 
 dered him by this noble daughter of the forest. Sometime after 
 this the Indians became alarmed, by witnessing the extraordi- 
 nary feats of Smith, and laid a plan to get him into their power, 
 under the pretence of wishing an interview with him in their 
 territory. But Pocahontas, knowing the designs of the warriors, 
 left the wigwam after her father had gone to sleep, and ran more 
 than nine miles through the woods to inform her friend Captain 
 Smith of the dangers that awaited him, either by stratagem or 
 attack. For this service, Captain Smith offered her some 
 
FRMALE BIOGRAPHY. 383 
 
 trinkets ; but young as she was, and no doubt had a natural 
 fondness for finery, which belongs to her age, sex, and nation, 
 yet she refused to accept any thing, or stop to refresh herself for 
 fear of being discovered by her father, or his wives. She re- 
 turned before any one awaked, and laid herself gently in her 
 blanket near where her father slept. 
 
 For several years she continued to assist the whites against 
 her father's plots for their destruction. Although she was a 
 great favorite with her father, he was so incensed against 
 her for favoring the English, that he sent her to a chief of a 
 neighboring tribe; or, perhaps, he feared that the other chiefs 
 of his own might, in Indian style, sacrifice her for want of patri- 
 otism; such a sacrifice would not be a rare occurrence in Indian 
 history. Here she remained for some time, when Captain 
 Argall coming up the Potomac, and finding out that she was 
 with Jopazaws, tempted the deceitful wretch to deliver her to 
 him as a prisoner, for the bribe of a brass kettle, of which the 
 chief had become enamored, as the biggest trinket he had ever 
 seen. Argall thought, by having her as a hostage, he should 
 be able to bring Powhatan to terms of peace, but he refused to 
 ransom her on the hard terms proposed by the colonists. He 
 ofTered five hundred bushels of corn for her ransom, which was 
 not accepted. She was well treated while a prisoner, and Mr. 
 Thomas Rolfe, a pious young man, and a brave officer, under- 
 took to teach her the English language, as it was an object to 
 have an influential interpreter among them. From a know- 
 ledge of what she had done for his friend Smith, and from find- 
 ing her intelligent, brave, and noble, he became attached to her, 
 and offered her his hand. This was communicated to Powha- 
 tan, who gave his consent to the union, and she was married 
 after the form of the church of England, in presence of her 
 uncle and two brothers. She was then, but liule past seventeen 
 years of age. Powhatan did not attend the marriage, perhaps 
 from a fear that some treachery might be in the business, but 
 finding none, he extended the hand of friendship to his new allies 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 The colony was now relieved from war, and for a while* 
 
384 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 seemed to flourish. Pocahontas was a great favorite among the 
 colonists, and her husband having business in England, it was 
 thought best for her to make the voyage with him. She took 
 several Indians of both sexes with her, such a number as her 
 brothers and uncle thought belonged to her lineal honors. In 
 England she was baptized and called Rebecca. She was there 
 a subject of great curiosity, and was treated by all classes as a 
 princess. She had made great progress in the English studies, 
 and spoke the language Avith wonderful fluency. In London 
 she was visited by Captain Smith, whom she supposed to have 
 been dead. When she first beheld him, she was overcome with 
 emotion, and shrunk from him, as from one from the grave, 
 hiding her face with her hands. An explanation soon took 
 place, and she again used the endearing appellation of father, in 
 conversation with her old friend. The only solution of this 
 deception is, that the colonists wished to bring about a match 
 between her and some one of their number, and feared, perhaps, 
 that she cherished too fond a recollection of the gallant Smith, 
 to think of uniting herself to another, while he was living. 
 
 Captain Smith wrote a memorial to the queen in her behalf, 
 setting forth in a free and noble manner the services of the 
 Indian princess, rendered to himself and to the colony; and the 
 queen became her personal friend. She only lived long enough, 
 in England to prove to them that genius and virtue are the pro- 
 ductions of every age and clime. She died as she was about to 
 embark for her native land, at Gravesend, leaving an infant 
 son. She was deeply lamented in England, and sincerely 
 mourned in Virginia. The son she left, was educated by his 
 uncle in England, and afterwards became a worthy and highly 
 respectable character in Virginia, from whom has descended 
 several distinguished families, now of that state. Several works 
 of fiction have been founded on the incidents in the life of 
 Pocahontas, but they have not been successful. The whole of 
 her story surpasses all that fiction could create, and the embel- 
 lishments were not wanted along side of the simple character of 
 this child of nature. A thousand artificial flowers, in gilded 
 vases, have not, to the true botanist, the beauty and perfume of 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 85 
 
 the rose in the garden where it grew ; nor can the Geraldines 
 and Cherubines, these monsters of loveliness in fiction, reach 
 the unsophisticated elegance of character displayed in Pocahon- 
 tas. There is now a strong sympathy felt and acknowledged 
 for the Indians. Books are written to defend them from many 
 slanders which have been thrown upon them by former histo- 
 rians, and when this race has become nearly extinct, all will 
 feel how greatly they have been injured. Portraits of some of 
 the most distinguished warriors, have been taken by artists of 
 talents. One of the sweetest minstrels of our land, or of any 
 other, Mrs. Sigourney, has asked in the language of the muse, 
 
 " How can the red men be forgotten, while so many of our states and ter- 
 ritories, rivers and lakes, are designated by their names 7" 
 
 Ye say they all have past away, 
 
 That noble race and brave, 
 That their light canoes have vanish' d 
 
 From off the crested wave. 
 That 'mid the forests where they roam'd 
 
 There rings no hunter's shout; 
 But their name is on your waters, 
 
 Ye may not wash it out. 
 
 Yes, where Ontario's billow 
 
 Like ocean's surge is curl'd. 
 Where strong Niagara's thunder wake 
 
 The echo of the world, 
 Where red Missouri bringeth 
 
 Rich tribute from the west, 
 And Rappahannock sweetly sleeps 
 
 On green Virginia's breast. 
 
 Ye say their conelike cabins 
 
 That cluster' d o'er the vale, v 
 
 Have disappear' d like wither' d leaves 
 
 Before the Autumn gale : 
 But their memory liveth on your hills, 
 
 Their baptism on your shore. 
 Your everlasting rivers speak 
 
 Their dialect of yore. 
 
 Old Massachusetts wears it 
 
 Withm her lordly crown. 
 And broad Ohio bears it 
 
 Amid his young renown. 
 33 
 
386 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Connecticut hath wreath'd it 
 
 Where her quiet foliage waves, 
 ^nd bold Kentucky breath' d it hoarse, 
 Through all her ancient caves. 
 
 Wachuset hides their lingering voice 
 
 Within his rocky heart. 
 And Alleghany graves its tone 
 
 Throughout his lofty chart. 
 Monadnock on his forehead hoar 
 
 Doth seal the sacred trust, 
 Your mountains build their monumen 
 
 Though ye give the winds their dust. 
 
 Ye deem those red-brow'd brethren 
 
 The insects of an hour, 
 Forgotten and despis'd amid 
 
 The regions of their power. 
 Ye drive them from their father's lands, 
 
 Ye break of faith the seal. 
 But can ye from the Court of Heaven 
 
 Exclude their last appeal 1 
 
 Ye see their unresisting tribes ^ 
 
 With toil-worn step and slow. 
 Onward through trackless deserts press, 
 
 A caravan of wo. 
 Think ye the Eternal's ear is deaf 7 
 
 His sleepless vision dim 7 
 Think ye the soul's blood may not cry 
 
 From that far land to Him 1 
 
 Sarah Roberts w^s born at Newburyport, a commercial 
 town on the banlis of the Merrimack, in the state of Massachu- 
 setts, about the year 1760. She was the daughter of a mer- 
 chant of respectability, who gave his daughters every advantage 
 of instruction within his reach, at that period. She was early 
 distinguished for high attainments and extraordinary fine sense. 
 Her personal charms were of a superior order. She entered as 
 the most attractive object of the genteel circle in which she 
 moved. Her hand was sought by those, who, from birth, fortune, 
 and education, had, as the world goes, a right to aspire to that 
 honor; but she never gave any one the slightest encouragement. 
 She was affable to all her acquaintances, but smiled on no one 
 in particular. She, early in life, made up her mind to live in ♦ 
 single blessedness. For several years she was assailed by 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 387 
 
 suitors, even after her determination to live single had become 
 known, each one thinking- that he might win a heart inacces- 
 sible to others. She retained her beauty long past the age of 
 high personal attractions among females generally. Her man- 
 ners were without one particle of that staidness, so often seen in 
 single women, who have seen two or more generations of females 
 pass from the nursery and school-room to the bonds of Hymen. 
 She had none of that weakness of concealing her age, often 
 found, even among those otherwise sensible women. When I 
 knew her, she was near forty years of age, then lovely in her 
 person, and the centre of attention to those who delighted more 
 in conversation, or in an intellectual banquet, than in the dance. 
 She talked of the past, without a sigh ; of the present, as though 
 she had just come forward into life, as far as the relish of society 
 was concerned; and of the future, without even dreading the 
 thought of old age. She looked upon life as a garden, where 
 the blossoms and the fruit follow in their seasons, and that each 
 season had its pleasures. The tree that glittered with ten thou- 
 sand gems of frost-work, was to her as lovely and delightful as 
 it was when it put out its leaves and flowers in vernal beauty. 
 
 She admired the character of the Roman vestals, and she had 
 kept, without parade or vanity, the model in her mind, and was 
 determined to follow the example. Her virtue was something 
 more than of Roman firmness ; for she was a most devout and 
 warm hearted Christian. She had no opportunity to test her 
 philosophy in old age, for before a wrinkle had appeared, or a 
 chill had fallen upon her heart, or a gray hair had asked con- 
 cealment, she was summoned to another world ; and she left this, 
 without a single wish to prolong her stay. Her mind was firmly 
 fixed on a higher region, and she was anxious to be gone. The 
 poor mourned her loss, for she did them much good at the most 
 proper time, and in the sweetest manner. This is the only 
 record, humble as it is, of one so exalted in talents, in virtue, and 
 accomplishments. 
 
 Martha Laurens Ramsay, was born in Charleston, South 
 Carolina, on the third of November, 1 759. She was the daughter 
 
388 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of Henry Laurens, a name familiar to every one who has read 
 of our struggle for independence. 
 
 In the first year of her life she had the small pox so severely, 
 that she was supposed to be dead, and as such was actually laid 
 out preparatory to her funeral. This was done under an open 
 window, instead of the close room in which she had been kept, 
 according to the absurd mode of treating the small pox in 1760. 
 Dr. Moultrie, coming in at this crisis, pronounced her to be still 
 alive, probably recalled to life by the fresh air of the open win- 
 dow. Under other circumstances she probably would have 
 soon been buried, as it was common in that year of extensive 
 mortality, to bury those who died of the small pox in the greatest 
 haste. A valuable life was thus providentially saved for future 
 usefulness. 
 
 Martha Laurens early discovered a great capacity and eager- 
 ness for learning. In the course of her third year she could 
 readily read any book, and, what is extraordinary, in an invert- 
 ed position, without any difficulty. In youth her vivacity and 
 spirits were exuberant. Feats of activity, though attended with 
 personal danger, were to her familiar ; great exertions of bodily 
 labor, romantic projects, excesses of the wildest play, were pre- 
 ferred to stagnant life ; but from all these she could be turned 
 off in a moment to serious business. As she grew up, the same 
 activity was exerted in acquiring the useful and ornamental 
 parts of female education. She very soon acquired a grammati- 
 cal knowledge of the French language ; a considerable eminence 
 in reading, writing, arithmetic, English grammar, geography, 
 and the use of the globes. She even acquired a considerable 
 acquaintance with geometry and mathematical science. At the 
 same time she was indefatigable in cultivating an acquaintance 
 with books, and, by means of abridging, transcribing, and com- 
 mitting to memory, was very successful in retaining much of 
 what she read. In accomplishments and the ornamental parts 
 of education she excelled, and in the exercise of them took great 
 delight. 
 
 In the eleventh year of her age she sustained an immense 
 loss by the death of her excellent mother ; but this was in some 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 389 
 
 measure made up by the maternal care of her good aunt, Mary 
 Laurens, the wife of James Laurens, whose sound judgment, 
 refined manners, and eminent piety, well fitted her for training 
 up her orphan niece for both worlds. To her care, and that of 
 his brother, Henry Laurens committed the charge of his two 
 daughters, while he went to superintend the education of his 
 sons in Europe. There he continued till the end of the year 
 1774, when love for his country brought him back to its defence 
 against the aggressions of Britain. Thus, while providence 
 deprived Miss Laurens of the instructions and example of her 
 natural mother, it raised up another friend who performed the 
 maternal duties with equal capacity, fidelity, and affection. 
 Though she was deprived of the company of her wise and vir- 
 tuous father, for almost the whole of that interesting period, 
 which extended from the eleventh to the twenty-second year of 
 her age, she continued to receive letters from him. From 1771 
 till 1775, his paternal instructions, communicated by letter, were 
 calculated to forward the virtuous education of a beloved daugh- 
 ter, growing up with fair prospects of an ample fortune; but in 
 and after 1775, he warned her of the probability that his estate 
 would be forfeited, and that her father and brother in arms would 
 lose their lives, and that she must prepare to maintain herself 
 by her own exertions. These anticipations were not wholly 
 realized ; but the expectation of them had a direct tendency to 
 assist in forming the solid education of the person to whom they 
 were addressed. 
 
 Miss Laurens, in her twelfth year, began to be the subject of 
 serious religious impressions. She was well instructed in the 
 great gospel plan of salvation, by the atoning sacrifice of Jesus 
 Christ, for the sins of the world. In her fifteenth year, in con- 
 formity to the advice of Dr. Doddridge, and in a form of words 
 recommended by him, she prepared and solemnly executed an 
 instrument of writing, called by her with great propriety, " A 
 self dedication and solemn covenant with God." In this, after 
 a suitable introduction, she presents before her maker the whole 
 frame of her nature, all the faculties of her mind, and all the 
 
 members of her body, as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable 
 
 33* 
 
390 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to God. And not only consecrates all that she was, and all 
 that she had to his service, but humbly resigns to his heavenly 
 will, all that she called hers, to be disposed of as he pleased. 
 It is believed that she kept the transaction secret from all the 
 world, and that the paper in question, was never seen by any 
 human being before her death. At the time of its execution, 
 she was exactly fourteen years and seven weeks old, and had 
 as brilliant prospects before her as any of her sex in Carolina. 
 The only serious affliction she had then met with, was the loss 
 of her mother. This had taken place three years and seven 
 months before, and the keen sensation occasioned thereby must, 
 in the ordinary course of things, have been nearly worn off by 
 time. The engagements thus entered into by Miss Laurens, 
 were in unison with her subsequent conduct through life. Of 
 the sincerity of the transaction, on her part, on a view of all its 
 circumstances, no doubt can exist. 
 
 In the year 1775, James Laurens, his wife, and two neices, 
 Martha Laurens, and Mary Eleanor Laurens, afterwards the 
 wife of Charles Pinckney, went to England. Martha Laurens 
 was received on her landing, by her elder brother, John Laurens, 
 from whom she had been for some years separated. Being older, 
 he had taken great delight in forwarding her education, and 
 particularly, in forming her mind to be superior to the common 
 accidents of life, and the groundless fears of some of her sex. 
 To ascertain whether his labors had been successful, or not, he 
 bribed the postillion to drive very rapidly, and, at the same time, 
 without discovering his views, narrowly watched her counte- 
 nance, to observe whether there were any changes in it expres- 
 sive of womanish fears, at the novel scene, so totally different, 
 from all her former traveling, in the low, flat, stoneless country 
 of Carolina. On the termination of the experiment to his satis- 
 faction, he announced to his unsuspecting sister, his congratula- 
 tions that " he had found her the same Spartan girl he had left 
 her." 
 
 During the first years of the American revolution, and for a 
 short period after its termination,^Miss Laurens resided in various 
 parts of England, improving her mind, and preparing herself 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 391 
 
 for meeting the contemplated loss of her father, brother, and 
 fortune, by the events of the war, and at the same time doing 
 every ofBce of love to her afflicted uncle. She afterwards con- 
 tinued the same kind services to him for several years in France. 
 In that country, in the year 1784, he was released by death, from 
 a long protracted painful complaint. Mr. James Laurens, hav- 
 ing no children of his own, proposed to leave the bulk of his 
 estate to Miss Laurens, his faithful nurse, and affectionate niece; 
 but she peremptorily refused the acceptance thereof to the dete- 
 rioration of the reasonable expectations of her brother and sister. 
 The will Avas framed agreeably to her Avishes ; but the testator, 
 in addition to a child's share, left her a specific legacy of five 
 hundred pounds sterling, declared in his will to be " a token of 
 his friendship for her ; and as an acknowledgment for the servi- 
 ces she had rendered him, and his family, and for her good and 
 gentle conduct on all occasions." 
 
 While Miss Laurens resided in England, she formed an ac- 
 quaintance with many persons eminent for their piety, and par- 
 ticularly with the countess of Huntingdon. She highly prized 
 the company of such persons, and from them received both 
 pleasure and improvement. 
 
 Their situation in England, on account of the war, being un- 
 comfortable, they passed over to France, and lived there until 
 the re-establishment of peace. During the greatest part of this 
 period, of six or seven years, and the whole of the time of their 
 residence in England, they were almost wholly cut off from 
 their usual means of support, for their property was in America, 
 three thousand miles distant. War raged, and the Atlantic 
 ocean rolled between them and it. In this forlorn situation., 
 they found ample occasion for all the comfort of that religion 
 which they professed. The greatest econom}!- was necessary. 
 A residence in Vigan was preferred, on account of the cheap- 
 ness of living. There Miss Laurens spent her time profitably. 
 She had many opportunities of improving her mind, by reading 
 and conversation, w^hich she diligently improved. She and the 
 family received great civilities from the French. Love to their 
 common father in heaven, and love and harmony among them- 
 
392 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 selves, sweetened their frugal repast, and took away the bitter- 
 ness of the cup of affliction, from which they were obliged deeply 
 to drink. 
 
 In the year 1780, Miss Laurens' father was taken a prisoner, 
 and confined, on a charge of high treason, in the tower of Lon- 
 don, and his life staked on the success of the American revolu- 
 tion. In due time the clouds of adversity began to disperse ; 
 the prospects of America brightened. Her father was dis- 
 charged from confinement, and after a separation of seven years, 
 she joined him in Paris, and presided over his domestic concerns, 
 while he assisted in the negotiations which terminated in peace 
 and the acknowledged independence of the United States. The 
 transition from a remote country place, to the head of a table of 
 a minister plenipotentiary, in the metropolis of France, was 
 great and sudden. 
 
 About this time. Miss Laurens received from her father, a 
 present of five hundred guineas. Of this, she only appropriated 
 a small part to her own use. With the surplus she purchased 
 one hundred French testaments, which was the whole number 
 at market, gave them away among the poor, in and near Vigan ; 
 and also established a school for the instruction of youth in the 
 same place, engaged a master to preside over it, and constituted 
 a fund to defray its annual expenses. 
 
 The restoration of peace to Carolina, in 1783, pointed out the 
 propriety of the return of the inhabitants. Miss Laurens, with 
 her aunt and sister, arrived in Charleston, in 1785, after a long 
 absence. Their joy, at finding their native country at peace, and 
 raised from the humble rank of a dependent colony to that of an 
 independent state, was inexpressible. Now, for the first time, 
 after leading an unsettled life for ten years, they found them- 
 selves at home. On the twenty-third of January, 1787, Miss 
 Laurens was married to Dr. David Ramsay, well known in the 
 literary world, as a historian and biographer. In the course 
 of the ensuing sixteen years, Mrs. Ramsay became the mother 
 of eleven children, eight of whom survived her. She now dis- 
 played the same virtuous habits, and the same energy of charac- 
 ter, in taking care of her children, in promoting her husband's 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 393 
 
 nappiness, and making a well ordered home his chief delight, 
 that had formerly distinguished Miss Laurens in acquiring useful 
 knowledge, and discharging the duties of a daughter, a sister, 
 and niece. Soon after she became a mother, she studied with 
 deep interest most of the esteemed practical treatises on educa- 
 tion, both in French and English, that she might be better in- 
 formed of the nature and extent of her new duties. She gave 
 a decided preference to the writings of Mr. Locke, and Dr. With- 
 erspoon, on that subject. The object she proposed to herself 
 was, to obtain for her children, health of body, and a well regu- 
 lated mind. To secure the former, they were from their birth, 
 washed in cold water, and throughout the whole period of infancy, 
 j)ermitted to expose themselves, with uncovered feet, to wet and 
 cold, and all the varieties and sudden changes of Carolina 
 weather. To favor the latter, they were taught to curb their 
 tempers ; to subject their passions to the supreme dominion of 
 reason and religion ; to practice self denial ; to bear disappoint- 
 ments ; and to resist the importunity of present pleasure and 
 pain, for the sake of what reason pronounces fit to be done, or 
 borne. She nursed all her children herself; watched over them 
 by night and day ; and clung to them every moment of sickness 
 or pain. She early taught them to read their bibles. That this 
 might be done pleasantly, she connected with it, Mrs. Trimmer's 
 prints of scripture history ; that it might be done with under- 
 standing, she made them read, in connection with their bibles, 
 Watts' short view of the whole scripture history, and as they 
 advanced to a proper age, Newton on the prophecies ; and such 
 books, as connected profane history with the Old and New 
 Testaments ; so that the bible, though written in periods widely 
 remote from each other, might appear to them a uniform, har- 
 monious system of divine truth. Of this blessed book, she en- 
 joined them daily to read a portion, and to prize it as the standard 
 of faith and practice ; as a communication from heaven on eternal 
 concerns ; as the word of God pointing out the only way to sal- 
 vation ; as a letter of love sent from their heavenly Father to 
 direct their wandering feet to the paths of truth and happiness. 
 From it she was now taught " that foolishness is bound in the 
 
394 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from 
 him." She therefore, on proper occasions used the rod, but al- 
 ways with discretion and judgment, sometimes with prayer, often 
 with tears, but never with anger. As her children advanced in 
 years, she conducted her sons through a course of education 
 fitting them to enter college, and with the help of her tried and 
 accomplished friend, Miss Futerell, she carried her daughters, at 
 home, through the several studies taught in boarding schools. 
 
 She was a constant and devout attendant on divine service ; 
 steadily recorded the text, and occasionally made a short analy- 
 sis of the sermon. She generally spent a considerable part of 
 the intervals of public worship, in catechising and instructing 
 her children and servants ; in reading with them the bible and 
 other good books. 
 
 Mrs. Ramsay was uncommonly economical of her time. She 
 suffered none of it to be wasted. By rising early she secured 
 the most valuable portion of it for devotion and business. A 
 reasonable part of every day was spent in religious exercises ; 
 much in reading well chosen books, and also in copying original 
 papers for her father and husband ; much in working for the 
 accomodation of her family; and much in teaching her children, 
 and forming their minds to virtue and knowledge ; and often a 
 considerable part of it in writing letters to her absent friends. 
 In these she was grave or gay as the subject required. In 
 writing letters of consolation, to persons in affliction, she excelled. 
 In other cases, where fancy was admissable, the sprightliness 
 of her imagination gave a brilliancy to trifles, which imparted 
 to them an interest of which they seemed hardly susceptible. 
 With a few exceptions, she declined all visits during the day, as 
 destructive of her plans for making every hour turn to the best 
 account. When the business of the day was ended, she indulged 
 her social habits. The number of books she read was aston- 
 ishingly great, and her memory uncommonly strong in retaining 
 the substance of their contents. She could recite nearly the 
 whole of Youngs' Night Thoughts without book. The Latin 
 and Greek classics she read in translations, at a very early 
 period. By catching from her brother, by studying occasionally 
 
FEMALE BIOORAPHV. S95 
 
 his Latin grammar and books ; and by the aid of an accurate 
 knowledge of the French language, and the general principles 
 of grammar, as applied to the English and French languages, 
 she laid such a foundation, that when she became the mother 
 of children, for their sakes she ran over the Latin and Greek 
 classics, in the short method recommended by Mr. Locke, so as 
 to make her a profitable instructor to them, in these languages. 
 With the same views she began, and to a considerable extent 
 prosecuted the study of botany. From the same versatility of 
 genius, and habits of industry, after she was married, she read 
 with attention, nxost of the practical writers on medicine, that 
 are usually put into the hands of medical students ; and studied 
 with particular interest, such of them, as treat of the diseases of 
 women and children. In times of general sickness, when her 
 husband was full of business, she frequently shortened his labor, 
 in studying cases of peculiar difficulty, by running over his 
 books, and finding similar cases: and collecting in one view, 
 for his inspection, the opinions and practice of standard medical 
 authors, on diseases of the same nature. She was familiar with 
 most of the modern works of genius, taste, and imagination, 
 written in the English and French languages, and enjoyed 
 them. In solid learning she was not deficient. Locke's Essays 
 on the Human Understanding, Watts' Logic, Improvement of 
 the Mind, Philosophical Essays, and other works of science, 
 were the studies of her youth. To these, as she grew up, she 
 added natural and civil history, biography, astronomy, chronol- 
 ogy, philosophy, voyages, travels, &c. In divinity, she read 
 much of what was practical, but rarely looked into any thing 
 that was controversial. 
 
 From the bible she was taught, " Fathers provoke not your 
 children to wrath, lest they be discouraged." Under this general 
 head she considered, as forbidden unnecessary severity, sar- 
 casms, and all taunting, harsh, and unkind language, over- 
 bearing conduct, high toned claims of superiority, capricious or 
 whimsical exertions of authority, and several other particulars, 
 calculated to irritate children or fill them w^ith terror. On the 
 other hand, she considered parents as required by this precept, to 
 
396 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 curb their own tempers, to bridle their passions, to make proper 
 allowances for the indiscretions and follies of youth, and to be- 
 have towards their offspring in the most conciliatory manner, so 
 as to secure their love and affection on the score of gratitude. 
 These, and many other rules of conduct she drew from the bible, 
 and happy would it be for society, if all parents used their bibles 
 for similar purposes. 
 
 For several of the last years of her life, in addition to long 
 continued and frequent attacks of painful diseases, sufficient to 
 have laid by a less active person, she had to struggle with re- 
 stricted circumstances. From the first moment of her last sick- 
 ness, she had a presentiment that she would not survive it. This 
 gave her no alarm. She made preparations for, and arranged the 
 circumstances of her funeral, with the same calmness and self- 
 possession that she would have prepared for a journey or voy- 
 age, in the days of her best health. She directed that her 
 funeral should be private, her coffin plain, and without a plate ; 
 that the services should be performed at her own house, before 
 a few of her particular friends. Her coffin was accordingly 
 made of Carolina cedar. About four o'clock, P. M., June 10th, 
 1811, she asked her husband and children if they were willing 
 to give her up. They evaded the question, but she informed 
 them in direct terms, that God had now made her entirely wil- 
 ling to give them all up, and in about an hour after expired. 
 
 Anne Rahan, sister of the duke de Rahan, deserves to be 
 mentioned as a zealous supporter of the reformed religion during 
 the civil wars, in which period she sustained, with great cour- 
 age, the hardships of the seige of Rochelle, and, with her 
 mother, refused to be comprehended in the capitulation, choosing 
 rather to remain a prisoner of war. She was celebrated for piety 
 and courage, and respected for her learning and capacity. She 
 was also admired for her poetical talents; particularly for a poem 
 written on the death of Henry IV., of France. She studied the 
 Old Testament in the original language, and used, in her devo- 
 tions, the Hebrew psalms. She died unmarried, September 20th, 
 1646, at Paris, in the sixty -second year of her age. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 397 
 
 Susanna Rowson, was the daughter ofWilliam Haswell, who 
 was an officer in the British navy. Her mother's maiden name 
 was Musgrove — this lady died young, while the subject of this 
 memoir was quite a child. Mr. Haswell being on the New- 
 England station, became acquainted with a Miss Woodward, a 
 native of Massachusetts, and married her. After this connection, 
 Mr. Haswell came and resided, a number of years, at Nantasket, 
 Massachusetts, with his second wife. These were unfortunate 
 shores for him — for on his arival on this coast, which was in 
 the winter of 1769, with his daughter, then but seven years old, 
 and her nurse, the vessel was cast av/ay on the back of Lo veil's 
 Island, and they suffered great hardships, for two days, on the 
 wreck. The family resided at Nantasket when the revolu- 
 tionary contest came on, when, in accordance with the cautious 
 policy of that day, Mr. Haswell, a half pay officer, was, of 
 course, considered a prisoner of war, and sent into the country 
 for safe keeping ; but subsequently to Halifax, by cartel. This 
 officer had several sons, two of whom have been gallant officers 
 in the naval service of the United States, and both were distin- 
 guished in the fight of the Le Berceau, and in some other en- 
 gagements of that short war. Susanna Haswell was married 
 to Mr. William Rowson, in the year 1786, in London. While 
 she resided in Massachusetts, she had frequent opportunities 
 of seeing and conversing with that great statesman, orator, 
 and lawyer, James Otis, then decidedly the most influential man 
 in America. Much pains had been bestowed on her education^ 
 and this learned and enthusiastic scholar was deligfhted with 
 her early display of talents, and called her his little pupii. 'inis 
 intimacy she recollected with pleasure and pride, in every period 
 of her life. In the same year of her marriage, she commenced 
 author, and published her first work, " Victoria," which was 
 dedicated, by permission, to the duchess of Devonshire, then 
 the most brilliant star in the circles of taste and fashion. lier 
 grace was a genius, a beauty, a politician, and a writer of con- 
 siderable distinction ; but her affability and kindness, surpassed 
 even her charms and accomplishments. This queen of love 
 
 was not only empress of the fashionable world, but had almo.'i* 
 
 34 
 
398 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the same unbounded influence among literary men. The smile 
 of Georgiana awakened hopes in the bosom of despondency, and 
 her word obtained favor for whom it was spoken, even among 
 her political enemies. The constancy of her friendship falsified 
 the tales of the capriciousness of beauty ; and her liberality and 
 condescension as a patroness, and her virtues as a parent, dis- 
 armed envy of his poisoned shaft. The intrinsic merit of 
 " Victoria," and the kindness of her who had become the friend 
 of the author, secured it a flattering reception. The duchess, 
 among other acts of kindness to Mrs. Rowson, introduced her 
 to the prince of Wales ; and she obtained, by this interview, a 
 pension for her father. 
 
 Mrs. Rowson's next work was " Mary, or the Test of Honor." 
 This was not entirely original, but was taken, in part, by her 
 from a manuscript, furnished by a bookseller. This book she 
 never claimed as her work. Then followed " A trip to Parnas- 
 sus," " A Critique on Authors and Performers ;" and then, 
 "Fille de Chambre," " Inquisitor," "Montoria," and " Charlotte 
 Temple, or a tale of truth." This last work has had the merit 
 of the most extensive sale, in this country, of any one ever pub- 
 lished here. More than twenty-five thousand copies of it were 
 sold in a few years. Mrs. Rowson lately commenced writing a 
 sequel to this book, but did not finish it. In 1793, she returned 
 to this country, and was engaged in the Philadelphia theatrical 
 company for three years. Notwithstanding her arduous duties 
 on the stage, her pen was not idle. x4t this time she wrote the 
 " Trials of the Heart," a very voluminous work ; " Slaves in 
 Algiers," an opera ; " The Volunteers," a farce, after the whis- 
 key insurrection in Pennsylvania ; and the " Female Patriot." 
 In 1795, while in Baltimore, she wrote a poetical address to the 
 army of the United States, called the " Standard of Liberty," 
 which was recited by Mrs. Whitlock from the stage, when all 
 the uniform companies of the city attended, in full dress, with 
 side arms, to hear it. The address, it hardly need be stated, 
 when Mrs. Whitlock' s name is mentioned, was given with great 
 effect, and added fresh laurels to the writer and speaker. Mrs. 
 Rowson came to Boston in 1796, and was engaged for that year 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 399 
 
 at the Federal street theatre ; and for her benefit, produced the 
 comedy of " Americans in England." Here closed her dramatic 
 labors ; after that, she never attempted any thing for the stage, 
 except, perhaps, a song or an ode. At the close of her en- 
 gagement, she left the stage forever, and opened a school for 
 young ladies, without any promises of patronage or assistance. 
 At the commencement of her undertaking, she had but one 
 scholar; but before the end of the year, she had a hundred, 
 and many more were anxious to be admitted. 
 
 From this place, she went to Medford, and opened an academy 
 for boarding and instructing young ladies. This seminary was 
 thronged from every quarter, not only of our own country, but 
 from Newfoundland, Jamaica, New Providence, and more dis- 
 tant places. From Medford, she removed to Newton, about the 
 same distance from Boston, and continued her school until she 
 removed to Boston ; in every place she had as many scholars as 
 she could take. During these laborious duties, she found time 
 to write several volumes ; " Reuben and Rachel," a novel, the 
 scene of which is laid in this country. She had also compiled 
 a " Dictionary;" two systems of " Geography ;" " A present for 
 young ladies," being a collection of various exercises and poems, 
 recited by her pupils, " Historical Exercises," &c. She was the 
 conductor at one time of the " Boston Weekly Magazine," in 
 which she wrote many valuable essays, on various moral and 
 interesting subjects. Odes, for masonic purposes, hymns for 
 charitable associations, and songs for patriotic festivals, came 
 from her pen, too numerous to mention singly ; and each of them 
 did credit to her poetical powers. The " Biblical Dialogues," 
 was her last publication. This is a work of great research, and 
 much learning, extremely useful in families and schools ; and 
 there can be no doubt, but that it will, at no distant day, be in 
 general use. It is perhaps, a little tinctured with her own pecu- 
 liar notions in theology ; but these were sound and orthodox, 
 according to the episcopal church ; and parents will, perhaps, 
 find, that in the course of education, it may be better to have a 
 system for their children, in which much is believed, than to use 
 one in which every thing is doubted. If Mrs. Rowson had 
 
400 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 written but this single work, it would have given her a con- 
 spicuous stand among the literati of our country. 
 
 Not only her latter, but her early productions, were charac- 
 terized by purity, simplicity, and piety. While many gifted 
 minds Avere laboring to poison the morals of the young and 
 thoughtless, by heated visions of ideal life, she was drawing true, 
 but tamer pictures, to elevate their sentiments, and strengthen their 
 love of virtue. Had she indulged her imagination in a wild and 
 erratic course, with such stores of knowledge as she possessed, 
 she would have gained a higher fame, but not a better reward, 
 or more lasting satisfaction. The plaudits of the world are 
 nothing to the consciousness of having done right. Her calm, 
 solemn, but interesting and pious tales, were opposed to the en- 
 chantments of " the mighty magician of Udolpho," and the sen- 
 timental rhapsodies of the Delia Cruscan school. They were 
 floating in every circle together, and it is not wonderful that the 
 latter should have been most read and admired, in that day ; but 
 the artificial pageant, however brilliant, passes away, while the 
 simplicity of nature and truth remains. Chance, or untoward 
 circumstances, brought her on the stage, where she was distin- 
 guished for correct deportment, clearness of enunciation, and good 
 reading. She was received by the audience with courtesy and 
 respect, when she could not astonish or delight by her theatrical 
 powers ; for her literary and moral reputation was never, for a 
 moment^ forgotten by an enlightened people. She appeared on 
 the boards in this country, when, perhaps, there was less purity 
 of character on the stage, than at present, but probably more 
 talent. Surrrounded by the gairish and dazzling lights of the 
 stage, she shone a vestal lamp, on the shrine of virtue, at which 
 exalted genius did homage, as he passed on to hear the applause 
 of enraptured thousands. 
 
 Her poetry, if not of the highest cast, never sunk to the level 
 of mediocrity. It was always such as the muses were delighted 
 to avow, if they did not lend a double portion of their spirit to 
 inspire. There is not a line in all her minstrelsy that would 
 give modesty a blush, or religion a pang. Her prose style was 
 remarkable for perspicuity and ease, and some of her sentences 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 401 
 
 are lofty and finished; but the great charm in her writings, was 
 a sweet and beautiful morality which pervaded all her thoughts. 
 Mrs. Rowson was singularly fitted for a teacher. Such intel- 
 ligence as she possessed, was then rare, among those who took 
 upon themselves the task of forming the characters, and enlighten- 
 ing the minds of young females. To her scholars she was easy, 
 and accessible, but not too familiar. Her manners were polished 
 and dignified, without distance or affectation. Her method of 
 governing her school was strict, cautious, and precise, without 
 severity, suspicion, or capriciousness. She watched the progress 
 of sentiment as well as of knowledge in the minds of her pupils, 
 and taught them by every salutary precept, the danger there 
 was to happiness in a too luxuriant growth of feeling. She 
 strove to gain the hearts of the children of her care, in order 
 that they might fully confide in her judgment; and when their 
 imaginations reflected the hues of life, she struggled to give a 
 just direction to the bright colors, that they might not fall to 
 dazzle and enchant, when there was but little reason or stability 
 of purpose to oppose the delirium. A guide to the female mind 
 in this dangerous hour, is a friend that can never be forgotten. 
 Many have ability "to wake the fancy," but few, have power, 
 by the same means, " to mend the heart," particularly the female 
 heart, when the character is passing from girlish frivolity, to 
 sentiment, susceptibility, and passion. She did not chill by 
 austerity, "the genial current of the soul," but taught it to flow 
 in the channels of correct feeling, taste, virtue, and religion. 
 Many dames, perhaps, who have the care of female youth, can 
 boast of bringing forward as fine scholars as Mrs. Rowson, but 
 few can show so many excellent wives and exemplary mothers ; 
 and this is the proudest criterion of the worth of instruction that 
 can be offered to the world. Many educated by her care might 
 with justice say — 
 
 " My soul, first kindled by thy bright example, 
 
 To noble thought and gen'rous emulation, 
 
 Now but reflects those beams that flow'd from thee." 
 
 Few men were ever great whose mothers were not intelligent 
 
 34* 
 
402 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and virtuous ; first impressions often stamp the future character. 
 Education, for every purpose, is farther advanced in the nur- 
 sery than is generally imagined. 
 
 Mrs. Rowson was a model of industry. By a judicious 
 arrangement of her time, she found opportunities to visit her 
 friends, attend to her pupils, and to write large volumes for 
 amusement and instruction, and yet, never seemed hurried or 
 overwhelmed with cares or labors. Method gave harmony to 
 her avocations, and if she suffered, it was not perceived ; if she 
 was weary and exhausted, it was not known to those around 
 her. This Avas the more wonderful, as she was, for a great 
 portion of her life, a valetudinarian. She was an economist of 
 the closest calculation, in every arrangement of her school, 
 or household affairs. The mere good, industrious housewife 
 learned something more of her duty, and added to her stock of 
 culinary information at every visit she paid this patron of in- 
 dustry and economy. The science and skill of the kitchen 
 were as familiar to her as works of taste, and if she ever seemed 
 proud of any acquirement, it was of the knowledge of house- 
 wifery. 
 
 Mrs. Rowson was admirable in conversation. There was 
 nothing affected or pedantic in her manner, at the same time 
 there was nothing trite or common place. In colloquial inter- 
 course, she rather followed than led, although at home in most 
 subjects interesting to the learned and accomplished. She was 
 firm, at all times, in her opinions, but modest in support of 
 them. She reasoned with eloquence and skill, but seldom 
 pushed her remarks in the form of debate. She was patient in 
 the protracted communion of opposing thoughts, but shrunk at 
 once from the w^ar of v/ords. Bland and gentle, she pursued 
 her course of thinking fairly and astutely, to perfect victory, 
 but her opponent never felt in her presence the mortification of 
 a defeat. 
 
 She w^as truly a mother in Israel. To her charities there 
 was no end. Net only " apportioned maids and apprenticed or- 
 phans" blessed her bounty, but many, cast hopeless on the Avorld, 
 found inher the affection, tenderness, and care of a parent. Her 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 403 
 
 charities were not the whim of a benevolent moment, but such 
 as suffer long- and are kind, and which reach to the extent of the 
 necessity. The widow and fatherless will remember her affec- 
 tionate efforts in their behalf She was president of a society 
 for their relief, and for many years, her purse, pen, and powers 
 of solicitation were always at their service ; and the cold winds 
 of winter, and the shattered hovel, and the children of want, have 
 been witnesses to the zeal and judgment she has shown in their 
 cause, and could also declare how often she has stole silently to 
 places, where misery watched and Avept, to bring consolation and 
 comfort. Mrs. Rowson possessed a most affectionate disposition 
 — too often the sad concomitant of genius. There are times 
 when the pulses of a susceptible heart cannot be checked by 
 reason, nor soothed by religious hopes ; the ills of the world 
 crowd upon its surface, until it bleeds and breaks. There will 
 always be some evils in our path, however circumspectly we 
 may travel. No one can stay in this sad world, until the com- 
 mon age of man, without numbering more dear friends among 
 the dead, than he finds amonff the livinof. A strong and fervid 
 imagination, after years spent in laboring to paint the bow 
 upon the dark surrounding clouds of life, but finding the lively 
 tints fade away as fast as they are drawn, often grows weary of 
 thinking on the business of existence, and fixing an upward 
 gaze on another world, stands abstracted from this, until the 
 curtain falls, and the drama is closed forever. 
 
 " balmy peace 
 
 Rest with her manes, and remembrance ever 
 With odorous praise surround her laurel'd tomb." 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Russell, was the third daughter of Sir 
 Anthony Cooke, and was born in 1529. She received a learned 
 education, and was married, first to Sir Thomas Hobby, and ac- 
 companied him to France, when he went there as ambassador 
 to queen Elizabeth, and died there, July 13th, 1566. She had his 
 remains conveyed to England, and adorned his tomb with large 
 inscriptions in Latin and English verse, of her own composition. 
 She had by him four children, Edward, Elizabeth, Anne, and 
 
404 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Thomas. It does not appear that she had much comfort in either 
 of her sons, and the youngest in particular, as is manifest in a 
 letter written by her to the lord treasurer Burleigh, was guilty 
 of such extravagancies and undutifulness, as gave her much un- 
 easiness. It is evident, from her letters, that she was a woman 
 of uncommon spirit and sense, and an excellent economist. 
 Some years after the decease of Sir Thomas Hobby, she married 
 John, Lord Russell, son and heir to Francis Russell, earl of Bed- 
 ford. Her husband died in the year 1584, and was buried in 
 the abbey church of Westminster, where there is a noble monu- 
 ment erected to his memory, and embellished with inscriptions 
 in Greek, Latin, and English, by his surviving lady. Her 
 children, by John, Lord Russell, were one son, who died young, 
 in 1590, and two daughters, Anne and Elizabeth. The last of 
 them survived her father but a little time, and is said to have 
 bled to death by the prick of a needle in the forefinger of the 
 left hand. This story has been supported by the figure placed 
 on her monument, where, on a pedestal of black and white mar- 
 ble, made columnwise, in imitation of a Roman altar, may be 
 seen the statue of a young lady, seated in a most curiously 
 wrought osier chair, of the finest polished alabaster, in a very 
 melancholy posture, inclining her head to the right hand, and 
 with the forefinger of the left only extending downwards, to di- 
 rect us to behold the death's head underneath her feet, and as 
 the tradition goes, to signify the disaster that brought her to her 
 end. Lady Russell translated out of French, into English, a 
 tract, entitled, " A way of reconciliation of a good and learned 
 man, touching the true nature and substance of the body and 
 blood of Christ in the sacrament." This work was printed in 
 1605, and is dedicated to her only daughter, Anne Herbert, wife 
 to Henry, Lord Herbert, son and heir to Edward, earl of Wor- 
 cester. Lady Russell died about the year 1600. 
 
 Renee de France, duchess of Ferrara, was born at Blois, 
 in 1510, was the daughter of Louis XII., and Anne of Brittany. 
 She was affianced at an early age to Charles of Austria, after- 
 wards emperor, and some years afterwards was sought in mar- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 405 
 
 riage by Henry VIII., of England ; but neither of these matches 
 took place, and Francis I. gave her to Flercules XL, of Este, 
 duke of Ferrara. She was a princess of great capacity, and of 
 an insatiable thirst for knowledge, and her studies were not 
 limited to history, the languages, and mathematics, but em- 
 braced also astrology and theology. The religious controver- 
 sies greatly interested her, and the result of her inquiries was 
 conversion to the tenets of the reformers. Brantome supposes, 
 not without probability, that resentment to the many ill offices 
 done to her father by the popes Julius and Leo, might have 
 disposed her to renounce the authority of the see of Rome. 
 Calvin, who went from France in disguise to visit her, brought 
 hej over to his opinions, in which she was confirmed by her 
 secretary, Marsh. Her court at Ferrara became the refuge of 
 all who were suspected of heresy, and her conduct gave so 
 much umbrage to the court of France, that Henry II. sent a 
 doctor to the duke, with the following instructions : " If the 
 duchess persists in her errors, she must be separated from all 
 conversation ; her children must be taken from her, and all her 
 domestics, who are greatly suspected of heresy, are to be prose- 
 cuted. With regard to the princess herself, the king refers to 
 the prudence of her husband to proceed against her as he may 
 judge proper, avoiding, nevertheless, what might occasion too 
 much scandal." After the death of the duke, in 1539, this 
 princess returned to France, and resided at her castle of Mon- 
 targis. The duke of Guise, in the religious wars, having sum- 
 moned her to deliver up some partisans who had taken shelter 
 with her, she replied " that she would not deliver them, and that 
 if he should attack the castle, she would be the first to place 
 herself in the breach, to see if he would have the audacity to 
 kill a king's daughter." She remonstrated strongly with 
 Francis II., against the imprisonment of the prince of Conde, 
 but she afterwards broke with that prince, not approving the 
 civil war in which he was engaged. She was at length obliged, 
 much against her will, to send away four hundred and sixty 
 persons to whom she had compassionately given an asylum ; 
 she parted with them in tears, after providing for the expenses 
 
406 FEMALE, BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of their journey. This estimable and distinguished princess 
 died in 1575, at Montargis, which place she had embellished 
 with several fine buildings. 
 
 Anne Radcliffe, is a name at which all our early associa- 
 tions in the fields of romance arise, and agitate our frames. How 
 many nights have we been under the influence of this enchant- 
 ress, the dagger stained with blood, the dying groan, the pale 
 light, the hoarse voice of the raven, croaking upon the battle- 
 ments, have all come up to us as the bell tolled one, and the stars 
 shot wildly from their spheres by the potent magic of her pages. 
 No sleep would come that night, and even the next mornmg's 
 sun seemed to rise in sickliness and fright. Her whole volumes 
 were full of an awful series of spells, which were sometimes 
 united as a galvanic battery to give successive shocks to the 
 soul ; and sometimes they came singly, as the fierce lightning- 
 flash, to show at once, the insufferable brightness of light and 
 the blackness of darkness together. But the lessons were, on 
 reflection, salutary ; for in the end, they taught us the folly of 
 yielding to superstitious fears, when appearances were strong, 
 and human reason was staggered. It was well she came with 
 so pure a spirit, and it is well that her school has passed away, 
 for her imitators fevered, roared, dishevelled their hair, beat their 
 breasts, and cryed aloud among the tombs, but they could not 
 disturb the elements of our nature ; all their struggles only pro- 
 voked us to indignant criticism. Such powers as Mrs. Radclifle's 
 have been rare in the history of the human mind. Like the sybil, 
 she must have wrought herself up at times, to the very verge of 
 madness. It is wonderful that one who wrote so much in so 
 short a period, should have sustained herself so well. One of 
 her followers, Lewis, had the power to frighten, but not the 
 power to charm while he frightened. Nature gave him power 
 only over half her magic art. It is a pleasant task to say some- 
 tning of her, and to do away many of the false reports in regard 
 to the effects her labors had upon her own mind, as a fair state- 
 ment will. The following account of her, and her works, is 
 taken from a memoir attached to her writings. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 407 
 
 Mrs. RadclifTe was born in London, in July, 1764. She was 
 the only child of William and Ann Ward, persons of great re- 
 spectability, who, though engaged in trade, were allied to fami- 
 lies of independent fortune and high character. She was 
 descended from the family of the De Witts of Holland. It 
 appears, from some of the documents in the hands of her friends, 
 that a member of this distinguished house, came to England in 
 the reign of Charles I., under the patronage of government, to 
 execute a plan for draining the fens of Lincolnshire. The pro- 
 ject was interrupted by the political troubles which ensued ; but 
 its author remained in England, and passed the remainder of 
 his days in a mansion near Hull. He brought with him an 
 infant daughter, named Amelia, who was the mother of one of 
 Mrs. RadclifTe's male ancestors. Her paternal grandmother 
 was the sister of Cheselden, the celebrated surgeon, of whose 
 kindness her father retained a lively recollection. Her mater- 
 nal grandmother was Ann Oates, the sister of Doctor Samuel 
 Jebb, of Stratford, who was the father of Sir Richard Jebb ; and 
 she was related, on her mother's side, to Dr. Halifax, bishop of 
 Gloucester, and to Dr. Halifax, physician to the king. She was 
 instructed in all womanly accomplishments, after the earlier 
 fashion of the time, but was not exercised in the classics, nor 
 excited to pursue the studies necessary to form the modern he- 
 roine of conversations. In childhood, her intelligence and 
 docility won the marked affection of her relatives, who moved 
 in a somewhat higher sphere than her parents, and she passed 
 much of her time at their houses. Her maternal uncle in law, 
 the late Mr. Bentley, of the firm of Wedgewood and Bentley, 
 was exceedingly partial to his niece, and invited her often to 
 visit him at Chelsea, and afterwards at Turn ham Green, where 
 he resided. At his house she enjoyed the benefit of seeing 
 some persons of literary eminence, and many of accomplished 
 manners. Mrs. Piozzi, Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Ord, and the 
 gentleman called " Athenian Stuart," were among the visiters. 
 
 Although the quickness and accuracy of Mrs. Radcliffe's 
 powers of observation were early felt by her friends, it does not 
 seem that the peculiar bent of her genius was perceived till after 
 
408 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her marriage. She had been educated among members of the 
 old school, in manners and morals, whose notions, while they 
 prompted the most considerate kindness to.wards their young 
 charge, did not, perhaps, tend to excite precocious intellect, 
 especially in a female of diffidence, approaching to shyness. 
 Something of the formality derived from education may be 
 traced in her works, supplying a massive, but noble and defi- 
 nite frame-work for her sombre and heroic pictures. There 
 was also, in the feeling of old gentility, which most of her rela- 
 tives cherished, a natural repugnance to authorship, which she 
 never entirely lost, even after her splendid success was ensured, 
 and she had found herself the creator of a new class in English 
 romances. 
 
 In the twenty -third year of her age, Miss Ward was married 
 to Mr. William RadclifTe, a graduate of Oxford, who, at one 
 period, intended to follow the profession of the law, and, with 
 that view, kept several terms at one of the Inns of Court, but 
 who afterwards changed his purpose. The ceremony was per- 
 formed at Bath, where her parents then resided, and she after- 
 wards proceeded with her husband to live in the neighborhood 
 of London. Encouraged by him, she soon began to employ her 
 leisure in writing ; and, as distrust of herself yielded to con- 
 scious success, proceeded with great rapidity. Mr. RadclifTe, 
 about this time, became the proprietor of" The English Chron- 
 icle," and took an active share in the management of the paper, 
 which, with other avocations, obliged him to be frequently ab- 
 sent from home till a late hour in the evening. On these occa- 
 sions, Mrs RadclifTe beguiled the else weary hours by her pen, 
 and often astonished her husband, on his return, not only by the 
 quality, but the extent of matter she had produced, since he left 
 her. The evening w^as always her favorite season for composition, 
 when her spirits were in their happiest tone, and she was most 
 secure from interruption. So far was she from being subjected 
 to her own terrors, that she often laughingly presented to Mr. 
 RadclifTe chapters which he could not read without shuddering. 
 
 Although Mrs. RadclifTe was as far a possible removed from 
 the slavery of superstitious fear, she took an eager interest in 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 409 
 
 the work of composition, and was, for the time, completely ab- 
 sorbed in the conduct of her stories. The pleasures of painting 
 have been worthily celebrated by men, who have been devoted 
 to the art ; but these can scarcely be regarded as superior to 
 the enjoyments of a writer of romance, conscious of inventive 
 power. If, in the mere perusal of novels, we lose our painful 
 sense of the realities of " this unimaginable world," and de- 
 lightedly participate in the sorrows, the joys, and the struggles 
 of the persons, how far more intensely must an authoress, lik@ 
 Mrs. Radcliffe, feel that outgoing of the heart, by which indi- 
 viduality is multiplied, and we seem to pass a hundred lives ! 
 She spreads out many threads of sympathy, and lives along 
 every line. The passions, the affections, the hopes of her 
 characters are essentially hers ; born out of her own heart, 
 figured from the tracings of her own brain, and reflecting back 
 again, in shape and form, the images and thoughts which work 
 indistinctly in the fancies of others. There is a perpetual exer- 
 cise of that plastic power, Avhich realizes the conceptions of the 
 mind to itself, and gives back to it its own imaginations in 
 " clear dream and solemn vision." How delightful to trace the 
 dawnings of innocent love, like the coming on of spring ; to 
 unveil the daily course of a peaceful life, gliding on like smooth 
 water ; to exhibit the passions in their high agitations and 
 contests ; to devise generous self-sacrifice in heroic thought ; to 
 pour, on the wearied and palpitating heart, overflowing happi- 
 ness ; to throw the mind forward to advanced age, and through 
 its glass to take a mournful retrospect of departed joy, and pen- 
 sively understand a mild and timely decay ! No exertion of 
 the faculties appears more enviable than that of forming ths» 
 outlines of a great tale, like " The Mysteries of Udolpho ;" 
 bringing out into distinctness all the hints and dim pictures, 
 which have long floated in the mind ; keeping in view the ca- 
 tastrophe from the first, and the relations to it of the noblest 
 scenes and most complicated adventures ; and feeling already, 
 as through all the pulses of the soul, the curiosity, the terror, 
 the pity and the admiration, which will be excited by the perusal 
 in the minds of thousands and thousands of readers. 
 
 35 
 
410 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Incited by the intellectual recompense of such a pursuit, Mrs. 
 Radcliffe gave her romances in quick succession to the world : 
 her first work, " The Castles of Athlin and Dunbayne," was 
 published in the year 1789; " The Sicilian Romance," in 1790; 
 "The Romance of the Forest," in 1791; "The Mysteries of 
 Udolpho," in 1794 ; and " The Italian," in 1797. It is pleasing 
 to trace the developement of her resources and her gradual 
 acquisition of mastery over them in these productions. The first, 
 with a goodly number of old towers, dungeon keeps, subterra- 
 neous passages, and hair-breadth escapes, has little of reality or 
 life ; as if the author had caught a glimpse of the regions of 
 romance from afar, and formed a sort of dreamy acquaintance 
 with its recesses and glooms. In her next work, " The Sicilian 
 Romance," she seems to obtain a bird's-eye view of all the surface 
 of that delightful region ; she places its winding vales, and deli- 
 cious bowers, and summer seas, before the eye of the mind ; but 
 is, as yet, unable to introduce the reader individually into the midst 
 of the scene, to surround him with its luxurious air, and compel 
 him to shudder at its terrors. In " The Romance of the For- 
 est," she approaches and takes up her very residence in the 
 pleasant borders of the enchanted land ; the sphere she chooses 
 is small and the persons limited ; but here she exercises clear 
 dominion, and realizes every thing to the fancy. " The Myste- 
 ries of Udolpho," is the work of one, who has entered and pos- 
 sessed a mighty portion of that enchanted land ; who is familiar 
 with its massive towers and solemn glooms ; and who presents 
 its objects of beauty or horror, through a certain haze, which 
 sometimes magnifies, and sometimes, veils their true proportions. 
 In " The Italian," she occupies a less space ; but, shining in 
 golden light, her figures have the distinctness of terrible pictures; 
 and her scenes, though perhaps less astounding in the aggre- 
 gate, are singly more thrilling and vivid. 
 
 This splendid series of fictions became immediately popular 
 with the numerous class of readers, who seek principally for 
 amusement, and soon attracted the attention of the finer spirits 
 of the age. Dr. Joseph Wharton, the head master of Win- 
 chester school, who was far advanced in life when " The Mvs- 
 
 I 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 411 
 
 teries of Udolpho" was published, told Mr. Robinson, the pub- 
 lisher, that, happening to meet with it, he ^Yas so fascinated, that 
 he could not go to bed till he had finished it, and actually sat up 
 the greater part of the night for that purpose. Mr. Sheridan 
 spoke of the same work in terms of the highest eulogy. Mr. 
 Fox, in a letter written to an intimate friend, soon after the pub- 
 lication of " The Italian," spoke of Mrs. Radcliffe's works in 
 terms of high praise, and entered into a somewhat particular ex- 
 amination and comparison of the respective merits of " The Mys- 
 teries of Udolpho" and " The Italian." The author of the 
 '• Pursuits of Literature," not much given to commend, describes 
 her as " The mighty magician of ' The Mysteries of Udolpho,' 
 bred and nourished by the Florentine muses, in their sacred, 
 solitary caverns, amid the paler shrines of Gothic superstition, 
 and in all the dreariness of enchantment ; a poetess, whom 
 Ariosto would, with rapture, have acknowledged as 
 
 La nudrita 
 
 Darnigella Trivulzia al sacro speco." 
 
 The pecuniary advantages which she derived from her works, 
 though they have been exaggerated, were considerable, accord- 
 ing to the fashion of the times. For " The Mysteries of Udol- 
 pho," she received, from Messrs. Robinson, five hundred pounds ; 
 a sum, then so unusually large, for a work of fiction, that Mr. 
 Cadell, who had great experience in such matters, on hearing the 
 statement, offered a wager of ten pounds, that it was untrue. By 
 " The Italian," although considerably shorter, she acquired about 
 the sum of eight hundred pounds. 
 
 The reputation, which Mrs. Radcliffe derived from her wri- 
 tings, did not draw her from the retirement in which they were 
 written. Although she had no children, and the duties of a 
 family did not engross her attention, she declined entering into 
 the society she was so well calculated to adorn. Nothing but 
 entire reciprocity in all the accompaniments of society could 
 satisfy her ideas of the independence it became her to preserve. 
 She would, indeed, have conferred honor and obligation on any 
 circle which she could prevail on herself to join ; but a scrupu- 
 
412 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 lous self-respect, almost too nice to be appreciated in these days, 
 induced her sedulously to avoid the appearance of reception, on 
 account of her literary fame. The very thought of appearing 
 in person as the author of her romances, shocked the delicacy of 
 her mind. To the publication of her works, she was constrained 
 by the force of her own genius ; but nothing could tempt her to 
 publish herself, or to sink, for a moment, the gentlewoman in 
 the novelist. She felt also a distaste to the increasing familiarity 
 of modern manners, to which she had been unaccustomed in her 
 youth ; and, though remarkably free and cheerful with her rela- 
 tives and intimate friends, she preferred the more formal polite- 
 ness of the old school among strangers. Besides these reasons 
 for preserving her seclusion, she enjoyed, with peculiar relish, 
 the elegant pleasures it gave her the means of partaking with 
 her husband. She chose at once the course she would pursue, 
 and, finding that her views met the entire concurrence of Mr. 
 Radcliffe, adhered to it through life. Instead of lavishing time 
 and money on entertainments, the necessity for which, according 
 to her feelings, was connected with a participation in general 
 society, she sought the comforts of residing in airy and pleasant 
 situations, of unbroken leisure and frequent traveling ; and as 
 her income was increased by the death of relatives, she retained 
 the same plan of living, only extending its scale of innocent 
 luxury. 
 
 In the summer of 1794, subsequent to the publication of 
 " The Mysteries of Udolpho," Mrs. Radcliffe accompanied her 
 husband on a tour through Holland and the western frontier of 
 Germany, returning down the Rhine. This was the first and 
 only occasion, on which she quitted England; though the vivid- 
 ness of her descriptions of Italy, Switzerland, and the south of 
 France, in which her scenes are principally laid, induced a 
 general belief, that she had visited those countries. So strongly 
 was this conviction impressed on the public mind, that a recent 
 traveler of celebrity referred to her descriptions as derived from 
 personal observation ; and it was asserted in the " Edinburgh 
 Review," for May 1823, that she accompanied her husband to 
 Italy, w^hen he was attached to one of the British embassies. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 41'3 
 
 and that " it was on that occasion she imbibed the taste for pic* 
 turesque scenery, and the obscure and wild superstitions of 
 mouldering castles, of which she has made so beautiful a use in 
 her romances." After their return from the continent, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Radcliffe made a tour to the English lakes, and were 
 highly gratified by the excursion. On these journeys, Mrs. 
 Radcliffe almost invariably employed snatches of time, at the 
 inns where she rested, in committing to paper the impressions 
 and events of the day, which she could afterwards review at 
 leisure; a happy mode of prolonging those vivid pleasures of 
 life, for which she had a fine relish. Such a habit, -when it does 
 not become too frequently introspective, or " sickly o'er" our 
 enjoyments with "the pale cast of thought," tends to impart a 
 unity to our intellectual being. It enables us to live over again 
 the unbroken line of existence ; to gather up the precious drops 
 of happiness, that they be not lost ; and, in the last moments of 
 feeling and thought, to find " a glass which shows us many 
 more." After Mrs. Radcliffe's return, she was prevailed on to 
 give to her notes a regular form, and to publish them in a quarto 
 volume, which met with a favorable reception. 
 
 The subsequent excursions of Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe were of 
 less extent, and chiefly directed to the southern coast of England. 
 Always once, and generally twice in the year, they took a jour- 
 ne}?- through some beautiful or interesting country, limiting 
 themselves to no particular course, but enjoying the perfect free- 
 dom, which was most agreeable to their tastes. Mrs. Radcliffe 
 continued her little diary of these pleasant rovings, but without 
 the slightest idea of publication, from which she generally 
 shrunk as an evil. The scenes and incidents which she has 
 portrayed in these private journals, exhibit her mind in its 
 undress, show her feelings as they were undisguised, and dis- 
 play her tact of observation and descriptive power, as existing 
 simply for her own gratification. She always traveled with a 
 considerable number of books, and generally wrote while Mr. 
 Radcliffe derived amusement from reading them. 
 
 Mrs. Radcliffe made many tours of pleasure with her hus- 
 band, which are sweetly narrated by herself, but are too long 
 
 35* 
 
414 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 for insertion in this place. These delightful little journeys were 
 continued almost every season, from 1797 to her death, which 
 happened in January, 1823, by asthma, in the fifty-ninth year 
 of her age. Her feelings had often been wounded by the coarse- 
 ness of criticism, although she had received a sufficient number 
 of complimentary reviews on her works to make any one vain ; 
 but she never was. So far from having lost her mind at any 
 period of her life, she was remarkably cheerful until the lamp 
 of life was expiring in the socket. 
 
 Mrs. Radcliffe, was, in her youth, exquisitely proportioned, 
 though she resembled her father, and his brother and sister, in 
 being low of stature. Her complexion was beautiful, as was her 
 whole countenance, especially her eyes, eyebrows, and mouth. 
 She was educated in the principles of the church of England ; 
 and through life, unless prevented by serious indisposition, regu- 
 larly attended its services. Her piety, though cheerful, was deep 
 and sincere. Although perfectly well bred, and endowed with 
 faculties and tastes which rendered her a delightful companion, 
 she wanted that confidence which is necessary to mixed society, 
 and which she could scarcely acquire, without losing something 
 of the delicacy of feeling, which marked her character. If, in 
 her retirement, she was sometimes affected by circumstances 
 which would have passed unheeded amidst the bustle of the 
 world, she was more than repaid by the enjoyments, which were 
 fostered in the shade ; and perhaps few distinguished authors 
 have passed a life so blameless and so happy. 
 
 Mrs. Radcliffe may fairly be considered as the inventor of a 
 new style of romance ; equally distinct from the old tales of 
 chivalry and magic, and from modern representations of credible 
 incidents and living manners. Her works partially exhibit the 
 charms of each species of composition ; interweaving the mirac- 
 ulous with the probable, in consistent narrative, and breathing 
 of tenderness and beauty peculiarly her own. The poetical 
 marvels of the first fill the imagination, but take no hold on the 
 sympathies, to which they have become alien ; the idcissitudes 
 of the last awaken our cariosity, without transporting us beyond 
 the sphere of ordinary life. But it was reserved for Mrs. Rad- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 415 
 
 cliffe to infuse the wondrous in the credible ; to animate rich 
 description with stirring adventure; and to impart a portion of 
 human interest to the progress of romantic fiction. She occupied 
 that middle region between the mighty dreams of the heroic 
 ages, and the realities of our own, which remained to be posses- 
 sed ; filled it with goodly imagery, and made it resonant with 
 awful voices. Her works, in order to produce their greatest 
 impressions, should be read first, not in childhood, for which 
 they are too substantial ; nor at mature age, for which they may 
 seem too visionary ; but at that delightful period of youth, when 
 the soft twilight of the imagination harmonizes with the luxu- 
 rious and uncertain light cast on their wonders. By those, who 
 come well informed, at such an age, to their perusal, they will 
 never be forgotten. 
 
 The principal means, which Mrs. Radcliffe employed to raise 
 up her enchantments on the borders of truth, are, first, her faculty 
 of awakening emotions allied to superstitious fear; and, secondly, 
 her skill in selecting and describing scenes and figures precisely 
 adapted to the feelings she sought to enkindle. We will ex- 
 amine each of these powers, and then shortly advert to their 
 developement in her successive romances. 
 
 I. The art, by which supernatural agency is insinuated, de- 
 rives its potency from its singular application to human nature, 
 in its extremes of weakness and strength. Simply considered, 
 fear is the basest of emotions, and the least adapted to the dignity 
 of romance; yet it is that, of which the most heroic heart some- 
 times whispers a confession. On the other hand, every thing, 
 Avhich tends to elevate and ennoble our feelings, to give the char- 
 acter of permanency to our impressions, and impart a tongue 
 to the silence of nature, has reference to things unseen. The 
 tremblings of the spirit, which are base when prompted by any 
 thing earthly, become sublime Vv'hen inspired by a sense of the 
 visionary and immortal. They are the secret witnesses of our 
 alliance with power which is not of this world. We feel both 
 our fleshly infirmity and our high destiny, as we shrink on the 
 borders of spiritual existence. Whilst we listen for echoes from 
 beyond the grave, and search with tremulous eagerness for indi- 
 
416 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 cations of the unearthly, our curiosity and fear assume the gran- 
 deur of passions. We might we]l douht our own immortality, 
 if we felt no restless desire to forestall the knowledge of its great 
 secret, and held no obstinate questionings with the sepulchre. 
 We were not of heavenly origin, if we did not struggle after a 
 communion with the invisible ; nor of human flesh, if we did 
 not shudder at our own daring; and it is in the union of this 
 just audacity and venal terror, that we are strangely awed and 
 affected. It is, therefore, needless to justify the use of the super- 
 natural in fiction ; for it is peculiarly adapted to the Avorkings 
 of the imagination ; that power, whose high province it is to 
 mediate between the world without us, and the world within us ; 
 on the one hand to impart sentiment and passion to the external 
 universe, and make it redolent of noble associations ; and, on 
 the other, to clothe the affections of the heart, and the high sug- 
 gestions of the reason, Avith color and shape, and present them 
 to the mind in living and substantial forms. 
 
 There are various modes in which the supernatural may be 
 employed, requiring more or less of a dextrous sympathy, in 
 proportion to the depth and seriousness of the feeling, 'which the 
 author proposes to aw^aken. In cases where the appeal is only 
 made to the fancy, it is sufficient if the pictures are consistent 
 with themselves, without any reference to the prejudices, or pas- 
 sions of those, before whom they are presented. To this class, 
 the fables of the Greek mythology belong, notwithstanding their 
 infinite varieties of grandeur and beauty. They were too bright 
 and palpable to produce emotions of awe, even among those 
 who profess to believe them ; and rather tended to enclose the 
 sphere of mortal vision, which they adorned and gladdened 
 with more definite boundaries, than to intimate the obscure and 
 eternal. Instead of wearing, then, the solemn aspect of anti- 
 quity, they seem, even now, touched with the bloom of an im- 
 perishable youth. The gorgeous oriental fictions, and modern 
 tales of fairy lore, are also merely fantastical, and advance no 
 claim on faith or feeling. Their authors escape from the laws 
 of matter, without deriving any power from the functions of 
 spirit ; they are rather without, than above nature, and seek only 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 417 
 
 an excuse, in the name of the supernatural, for their graceful 
 vagaries. Akin essentially to these are mere tales of terror, in 
 which horrors are accumulated on horrors. Beyond the pre- 
 cincts of the nursery, they are nothing but a succession of scenic 
 representations, a finely colored phantasmagoria, which may 
 strike the fancy, but do not chill the blood, and soon weary 
 the spectator. It is only the " eye of childhood which fears a 
 painted devil." In some of the wild German tales, indeed, there 
 is, occasionally, a forcible exaggeration of truth, which strikes 
 for a moment, and seems to give back the memory of a forgotten 
 dream. But none of these works, whatever poetical merit they 
 may possess, have the power to fascinate and appal, by touching 
 those secret strings of mortal apprehension, which connect our 
 earthly with our spiritual being. 
 
 In these later days, it no doubt requires a fine knowledge of 
 the human heart to employ the supernatural, so as to move the 
 pulses of terror. Of all superstitions, the most touching are 
 those, which relate to the appearance of the dead among the liv- 
 ing ; not only on account of the reality which they derive from 
 mingling with the ordinary business of life, but of the cold and 
 shuddering sympathy we feel for a being, like to whom w^e may 
 ourselves become in a few short years. To bring such a vision 
 palpably on the scene is always a bold experiment, and usually 
 requires a long note of preparation, and a train of circumstances, 
 which may gradually and insensibly dispose the mind to im- 
 plicit credence. Yet to dispense with all such appliances, and to 
 call forth the grandest spirit that ever glided from the tomb, was 
 not beyond Shakspeare's skill. A few short sentences only 
 prepare the way for the ghost of the murdered king of Denmark ; 
 the spirit enters, and we feel at once he is no creature of time ; 
 he speaks, and his language is " of Tartarus, and the souls in 
 bale." Such mighty magic as this, however, belonged only to 
 the first of poets. Writers who, in modern times, have succeeded 
 in infusing into the mind thoughts of unearthly fear, have usually 
 taken one of these two courses ; either they have associated their 
 superstitions with the solemnities of nature, and contrived to 
 interweave them in the very texture of life, without making 
 
418 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 themselves responsible for the feelings they excite ; or tney have, 
 by mysterious hints and skilful contrivances, excited the curi- 
 osity and terror of their readers, till they have prepared them, 
 either to believe in any w^onder they may produce, or to image 
 for themselves, in the obscurity, fearful shapes, and to feel the 
 presence of invisible horrors. 
 
 Those, who seek to create a species of supernatural interest 
 by the first of these processes, find abundant materials adapted to 
 their use in the noblest parts of our own intellectual history. 
 There are doubtful phenomena within the experience of all re- 
 flecting minds, which may scarcely be referred to their mere 
 mortal nature, and which sometimes force on the coldest skeptic 
 a conviction, that he is "fearfully," as well as "wonderfully made." 
 Golden dreams hover over our cradle, and shadows thicken 
 round the natural descent of the aged into the grave. Few there 
 are, who, in childhood have not experienced some strange visit- 
 in gs of serious thought, gently agitating the soul like the wind 
 '* that bloweth where it listeth," suggesting to it holy fancies, and 
 awakening its first sympathy with a world of sorrow and of 
 tears. Who has not felt, or believed that he has felt, a sure pre- 
 sentiment of approaching evil? Who, at some trivial occur- 
 rence, "striking the electric chord by which we are darkly 
 bound," has not been startled by the sudden revival of old 
 images and feelings, long buried in the depth of years, which 
 stalk before him like spectres of departed companions ? Who 
 has not shrunk from the fascination of guilty thoughts, as from 
 " supernatural soliciting?" Where is the man so basely moulded, 
 that he does not remember moments of inspiration, when state- 
 lier images than his intellect can embody, hopes and assurances 
 brighter than his constitutional temperament may recall, and 
 higher faculties within himself than he has ever been able to 
 use, have stood revealed to him like mountain-tops at the utmost 
 reach of vision, touched by a gleam of the morning sun ? And 
 who, in the melancholy calm of the mind, sadly looking into 
 its depths, has not perceived the gigantic wrecks of a nobler 
 nature, as the fortunate voyager on some crystal lake has 
 discerned, or fancied he discerned, the wave-worn towers of a 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 419 
 
 forgotten city far in the deep waters ? There are magic threads 
 in the web of life, which a writer of romance has only to bring 
 out and to touch with appropriate hues of fancy. From the 
 secret places of the soul are voices more solemn than from old 
 superstitions, to which he may bid us hearken. In his works, 
 prophecies may be fulfilled ; presentiments justified : the history 
 of manhood may answer to the dreams of the nursery ; and he 
 may leave his readers to assert if they can, " These have their 
 causes, they are natural !" Let him only give due effect to the 
 problem, and he may safelj^ trust their hearts to supply the 
 answer ! 
 
 The other mode of exciting terror requires, perhaps, greater 
 delicacy and skill, as the author purposes to influence the mind 
 directly from without, instead of leaving it, after receiving a 
 certain clue, to its own workings. In this style, up to the point 
 where Mrs. Radcliffe chooses to pause and explain, she has no 
 rival. She knows the string of feeling she must touch, and 
 exactly proportions her means to her design. She invariably 
 succeeds, not by the quantity but the quality of her terrors. In- 
 stead of exhibiting a succession of magnificent glooms, which 
 only darken the imagination, she whispers some mysterious 
 suggestion to the soul, and exhibits only just enough of her 
 picture to prolong the throbbings she has excited. In nothing 
 is her supremacy so clearly shown, as in the wise and daring 
 economy, with which she has employed the instruments of fear. 
 A low groan issuing from distant vaults ; a voice heard among 
 an assembly from an unknown speaker ; a little track of blood 
 seen by the uncertain light of a lamp on a castle staircase ; a 
 wild strain of music floating over moonlit woods, as intro- 
 duced by her, affect the mind more deeply than terrible incan- 
 tations, or accumulated butcheries. " Pluck out the hea' t of 
 her mystery !" tell, at once, the secret, the slightest hint of which 
 appals ; verify the worst apprehensions of the reader, and what 
 would be the reality in common hands ? You can suspect 
 nothing more than a cruel murder, perpetrated many years ago, 
 by an unprincipled monk, or an avowed robber ! Why should 
 we suffer all the stings of curiosity on such an issue ? Human 
 
420 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 life is not held so precious, murder is not so strang-e and rare an 
 occurrence, that we should be greatly agitated by the question 
 whether, two centuries ago, a bandit destroyed one of his cap- 
 tives; but the skill of the writer, applying itself justly to the 
 pulses of terror in our intellectual being, gives tragic interest to 
 the inquiry, makes the rusted dagger terrible, and the spot of 
 blood sublime. This faculty is the more remarkable, as it is em- 
 ployed to raise a single crime into importance, while others of 
 equal dye are casually alluded to, and dismissed, as deeds of little 
 note, and make no impression on the reader. Assassins, who 
 murder for hire, commonly excite no feeling in romance, except 
 as mere instruments, like the weapons they use; but, when 
 Mrs. Radcliffe chooses to single out one of these from the mass, 
 though undistinguished by peculiar characteristics, she rivets 
 our attention to Spalatro, as by an irresistible spell ; forces us 
 to -watch every movement of his haggard countenance, and 
 makes the low sound of his stealthy footstep sink into the soul. 
 Her faculty, therefore, which has been represented as melo- 
 dramatic, is akin to the very essence of tragic power, which is 
 felt not merely in the greatness of the actions or sorrows which 
 it exhibits, but in its nice application to the inmost sources of 
 terror and of pity. 
 
 It is extraordinary that a writer, thus gifted, should, in all 
 her works intended for publication, studiously resolve the cir- 
 cumstances, by which she has excited superstitious apprehen- 
 sions, into mere physical causes. She seems to have acted on 
 a notion, that some established canon of romance obliged her to 
 reject real supernatural agency; for it is impossible to believe 
 she would have adopted this harassing expedient if she had felt 
 at libert}/- to obey the promptings of her own genius. So abso- 
 lute was her respect for every species of authority, that it is 
 probable she would rather have sacrificed all her productionSy 
 than have transgressed any arbitrary law of taste or criticism. 
 It is equally obvious, that there is no valid ground of objectioii 
 to the use of the supernatural, in works of fiction, and that it is 
 absolutely essential to the perfection of that kind of romance, 
 which she invented. To the imagination, it is not only possible. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 421 
 
 but congenial, when introduced with art, and employed for 
 high and solemn purposes. Grant only the possibility of its 
 truth, which " the fair and innocent" are half disposed to believe, 
 and there is nothing extravagant in the whole machinery by 
 which it works. But discard it altogether, and introduce, in its 
 stead, a variety of startling phenomena, which are resolved at 
 last into petty deceptions and gross improbabilities, and you at 
 once disappoint the fancy, and shock the understanding of the 
 reader. In the first case, the reason is not offended, because it 
 is not consulted ; in the last, it is expressly appealed to with the 
 certainty of an unfavorable decision. Besides, it is clear that all 
 the feelings created up to the moment of explanation, and which 
 it has been the very object of the author to awaken, have obeyed 
 the influence of these very principles, which at last she chooses 
 to disown. If the minds to w^hom the work is addressed, were 
 so constituted as to reject the idea of supernatural agency, they 
 w^ould be entirely unmoved by the circumstances arranged to 
 produce the impression of its existence ; and " The Mysteries of 
 Udolpho" would have fallen still-born from the press ! Why 
 then should the author turn traitor to her own "so potent art?" 
 Why, having wrought on the fears of her readers, till she 
 sways them at her will, must she turn round and tell them they 
 have been awed and excited by a succession of mockeries? 
 Such impotent conclusions injure the romances as works of art, 
 and jar on the nerves of the reader, which are tuned for grand 
 wonders, not paltry discoveries. This very error, however, 
 which injures the effect of Mrs. Radcliffe's works, especially on 
 a second perusal, sets off, in the strongest light, the wizard 
 power of her genius. Even when she has dissolved mystery 
 after mystery, and abjured spell after spell, the impression sur- 
 vives, and the reader is still eager to attend again, and be again 
 deluded. After the voices heard in the chambers of Udolpho 
 have been shown to be the wanton trick of a prisoner, we still 
 revert to the remaining prodigies with anxious curiosity, and are 
 prepared to give implicit credence to new wonders at Chateau 
 le Blanc. In the romance of Gaston de Blondeville, Mrs. Rad- 
 cliffe, not intending to publish, gratified herself by the introduction 
 
 36 
 
422 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of a true spectre ; and, without anticipating the opinion of the 
 public on that work, we may venture to express a belief, that 
 the manner in which the supernatural agency is conducted, will 
 deepen the general regret, that she did not employ it in her 
 longer and more elaborate productions. 
 
 II. Mrs. Radcliffe's faculties of describing and picturing 
 scenes and appropriate figures were of the highest order. Her 
 accurate observation of inanimate nature, prompted by an intense 
 love of all its varieties, supplied the materials for those richly 
 colored representations, which her genius presented. Without 
 this perception of the true, the liveliest fancy will only produce a 
 chaos of beautiful images, like the remembered fragments of a 
 gorgeous dream. How singularly capable Mrs. Radcliffe was of 
 painting the external world, in its naked grandeur, her published 
 tour among the English lakes, and, perhaps still more, the notes 
 made on her journeys for her own amusement, abundantly prove. 
 In the first, the boldness and simplicity of her strokes, convey- 
 ing the clear images to the eye of the mind, with scarcely any 
 incrustation of sentiment, or perplexing dazzle of fancy, distin- 
 guish her from almost all other descriptive tourists. Still the 
 great charm of simpliaity was hardly so complete as in her un- 
 studied notices of scenery; because in writing for the press, it 
 is scarcely possible to avoid altogether the temptation of high 
 sounding and ambiguous expressions, which alvvays impede the 
 distinct presentment of material forms. To this difficulty, s.he 
 thus adverts in her account of Ulswater. " It is difficult to 
 spread varied pictures of such scenes before the imagination. 
 A repetition of the same images of rock, wood, and water, and 
 the same epithets of grand, vast, and sublime, which necessarily 
 occur, must appear tautologous, though their archetypes in 
 nature, ever varying in outline or arrangement, exhibit new 
 visions to the eye, and produce new shades of effect on the mind.'^ 
 In the journals, as no idea of authorship interposed to give 
 restraint to her style, there is entire fidelity and truth. She 
 seems the very chronicler and secretary of nature^ makes us 
 feel the freshness of the air; and listen to the gendest sounds. 
 Not only does she keep each scene distinct from all others, how- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 423 
 
 ever similar in general character, but discriminates its shifting 
 aspects with the most delicate exactness. No aerial tint of a 
 fleecy cloud is too evanescent to be imaged in her transparent 
 style. Perhaps no writer in prose or verse, has been so happy 
 in describing the varied effects of light in winged words. It is 
 true, that there is not equal discrimination in the views of natu- 
 ral scenery, which she presents in her romances. In them she 
 writes of places which she has not visited ; and, like a true 
 lover, invests absent nature with imaginary loveliness. She 
 looks at the grandeurs and beauties of creation through a soft 
 and tender medium, in which its graces are heightened, but 
 some of its delicate varieties are lost. Still it is nature that we 
 see, though touched with the hues of romance, and which could 
 only be thus presented by one who had known, and studied its 
 simplest charms. 
 
 In the estimate of Mrs. Radcliffe's pictorial powers, we must 
 include her persons as well as her scenes. It must be admitted 
 that, with scarcely an exception, they are figures rather than 
 characters. No writer ever produced so powerful an effect, 
 without the aid of sympathy. Her machinery acts directly on 
 her readers, and makes them tremble and weep, not for others, 
 but for themselves. Adeline, Emily, Vivaldi, and Ellena, are 
 nothing to us, except as filling up the scene ; but it is we our- 
 selves, who discover the manuscript in the deserted abbey; we, 
 who are prisoners in the castle of Udolpho ; we, who are inmates 
 of Spalatro's cottage ; we, who stand before the secret tribunal 
 of the Inquisition, and even there are startled by the mysterious 
 voice deepening its horrors. The whole is prodigious painting, 
 so entire as to surround us with illusion ; so cunningly arranged 
 as to harrow up the soul; and the presence of a real person 
 would spoil its completeness. As figures, all the persons are 
 adapted with peculiar skill to the scenes in which they appear; 
 the more, as they are part of one entire conception. Schedoni 
 is the most individual and fearful ; but through all the earlier 
 parts of the romance, he stalks like a being not of this world ; 
 and works out his purposes by that which, for the time at least, 
 we feel to be superhuman agency. But when, after glaring 
 
424 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 out upon us so long as a present demon ; or felt, when unseen, 
 as directing the whole by his awful energies ; he is brought 
 within the range of human emotion by the discovery of his sup- 
 posed daughter, and an anxiety for her safety and marriage ; 
 the spell is broken. We feel the incongruity ; as if a spectre 
 should weep. To develope character was not within the scope 
 of Mrs. Radcliffe's plan, nor compatable with her style. At 
 one touch of human pathos the enchantment would have been 
 dissolved, as spells are broken by a holy word, or as the ghost 
 of Protesilaus vanished before the earthly passion of his enam- 
 ored widow. 
 
 As the absence of discriminated feeling and character was ne- 
 cessary to the completeness of the effect, Mrs. Radcliffe sought to 
 produce, so she was rather assisted by manners peculiarly straight- 
 laced and timorous. A deep vein of sentiment would have sug- 
 gested thoughts and emotions inconsistent with that "wise passive- 
 ness," in which the mind should listen to the soft murmur of her 
 " most musical, most melancholy" spells. A moral paradox could 
 not coexist with a haunted tower in the mind of her readers. The 
 exceeding coldness and prudence of her heroines do not abstract 
 them from scenes of loveliness and terror, through which we de- 
 sire to follow them. If her scrupulous sense of propriety had 
 not restrained her comic powers, Mrs. Radcliffe would probably 
 have displayed considerable taleht for the humorous. But her 
 talkative servants are very guarded in their loquacity ; and even 
 Annette, quaintly and pleasantly depicted, fairly belongs to the 
 scene. Her old-fashioned primness of thought, which with her 
 was a part of conscience, with all its cumbrous accompaniments, 
 serves at once to render definite, and to set off, her fanciful crea- 
 tions. Romance, as exhibited by her, " tricked in antique ruff 
 and bonnet," has jret eyes of youth; and the beauty is not 
 diminished by the folds of the brocade, or the stiffness of the 
 damask stomacher. 
 
 These remarks apply in their fullest effect, only to " The 
 Mysteries of Udolpho," and the " The Italian," in Avhich alone 
 the chief peculiarities of Mrs. Radcliffe's genius are decidedly 
 marked. In her first work, " The Castles of Athlin and Dun- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 425 
 
 bayne," it is scarcely possible to discover their germ. Its scene 
 is laid " in the most romantic part of the Highlands of Scotland," 
 yet it is without local truth or striking picture. It is at once 
 extravagant and cold. Except one scene, where the earl of 
 Athlin pursues two strangers through the vaults of his castle, 
 and is stabbed by one of them in the darkness, nothing is delin- 
 eated ; but incredible events follow each other in quick succes- 
 sion, without any attempt to realize them. Those who complain 
 of the minuteness of Mrs. Radcliffe's descriptions, should read 
 this work, where every thing passes with headlong rapidity, and 
 be convinced of their error. In some few instances, perhaps, in 
 "The Mysteries of Udolpho," descriptions of external scenery 
 may occur too often : but her best style is essentially pictorial ; 
 and a slow developement of events was, therefore, necessary to 
 her success. 
 
 " The Sicilian Romance" is a work of much more "mark and 
 likelihood ;" and, very soon after its first appearance, attracted a 
 considerable share of public attention. Here the softer bland- 
 ishments of the author's style, which were scarcely perceptible 
 in her first production, were spread forth to captivate the fancy. 
 Transported to the " sweet south," her genius, which had 
 shrunk in the bleak atmosphere of Scotland, caught the luxu- 
 rious spirit of a happier clime. Never was a title more justly 
 applied than to this romance ; it reminds the reader of " Sicilian 
 fruitfulness." In tender and luxurious description of natural 
 scenery, it is surpassed by none of Mrs. Radcliffe's productions. 
 The flight of her heroine is like a strain of "lengthened sweet- 
 ness long drawn out ;" as one series of delicious valleys opens 
 on us after another; and the purple light of love is shed over 
 all. Still she had not yet acquired a mastery over her own 
 power of presenting terrific incidents and scenes to the eye of 
 the mind, and awakening the throbs of suspense by mysterious 
 suggestions. The light seen through the closed windows of the 
 deserted rooms, the confession of Vincent stopped by death, the 
 groans heard from beneath Ferdinand's prison, and the figure 
 perceived stealing among the vaults, are not introduced with 
 
 sufficient earnestness, and loose all claim to belief, by the utter 
 
 36* 
 
426 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 incredibility of the incidents, with which they are surrounded. 
 Escapes, recaptions, encounters with fathers and banditti, surpri- 
 sing partings, and more surprising meetings, follow each other 
 as quickly as the changes of a pantomime, and with almost as 
 little of intelligible connection. One example may suffice : Hip- 
 politus enters a ruin by moonlight, for shelter ; hears a voice as 
 of a person in agony ; sees, through a shattered casement, a 
 group of banditti plundering a man, Avho turns out to be Ferdi- 
 nand, his intended brother in law; finds himself, he knows not 
 how, in a vault ; hears a scream from an inner apartment ; bursts 
 open the door and discovers a lady fainting, whom he recognises 
 as his mistress ; overhears a quarrel and combat for the lady, 
 between two of the banditti, w^hich ends in the death of one of 
 them ; fights with the survivor and kills him ; endeavors to 
 escape with Julia ; finds his way into a " dark abyss," which is no 
 other than the burial-place of the victims of the banditti, marked 
 with graves, and" strewed with unburied carcasses ; climbs to a 
 grate, and witnesses a combat between the robbers and officers 
 of justice; escapes with the lady through a secret door into the 
 forest, where they are pursued by her father's party: but while 
 he fights at the mouth of a cavern, she looses her way in its re- 
 cesses, till they actually conduct her to the dungeon where her 
 mother, who had been considered dead for fifteen years, is im- 
 prisoned ; and all this in a few pages ! There are, in this short 
 story, incidents enough for two such works as " The Mysteries 
 of Udolpho," where, as in that great romance, they should not 
 only be told, but painted ; and where reality and grandeur should 
 be given to their terrors. 
 
 In " The Romance of the Forest," Mrs. RadclifTe, who, since 
 the dawn of her powers, had been as one " moving about in 
 w^orlds unrealized," first exhibited the faculty of controlling, and 
 fixing the wild images which floated around her, and of stamp- 
 ing on them the impress of consistency and truth. This work 
 is, as a whole, the most faultless of all her productions ; but, it 
 is of an inferior order to " The Mysteries of Udolpho," and 
 " The Italian ;" and can only be preferred by those, who think 
 the absence of error, of more importance than original excel- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 427 
 
 lence. There is a just proportion between all its parts ; its mys- 
 teries are adequately explained ; it excites and g-ratifies a very 
 pleasant degree of curiosity ; but it does not seem to dilate the 
 imagination, nor does it curdle the blood. Its opening, after a 
 sentence of marvellous common-place, is striking : the midnight 
 journey of La Motte and his family, they know not whither, and 
 the introduction of the heroine, under extraordinary circum- 
 stances, to their care, rivet attention to all that is to follow. The 
 scenes in the forest where they take up their abode, are charm- 
 ing. This seems the most delicious asylum fof the persecuted 
 outlaw; its woodwalks and glades glisten before us with the 
 morning dew; and there is something in the idea of finding a 
 home in a deserted abbey, which answers to some of the wildest 
 dreams of childhood, and innocently gratifies that partiality for 
 unlicensed pleasure or repose, which is so natural to the heart. 
 The whole adventure of La Motte and the marquis is sufficiently 
 probable and interesting ; and the influence, which it ultimately 
 enables the more resolute villain to exercise over the weaker, is 
 managed with peculiar skill, and turned to great account in the 
 progress of the story. There is here scarcely any hint of the 
 supernatural ; but the skeleton in the chest of the vaulted cham- 
 ber, the dagger, spotted with rust, the manuscript of the pris- 
 oner, w^hich Adeline reads by the fitful light of her lamp, and 
 which proves to be Avritten by her own father, possess us with 
 the apprehension of some secret crime, which acquires impor- 
 tance from its circumstances and its mystery. There are some 
 highly finished scenes ; as that where Adeline, in her solitary 
 chamber, dares not raise her eyes to her glass, lest another face 
 than her o^^vn should meet them; her escape with a man whom 
 she supposes to be the servant she had trusted, and who startles 
 her with a strange voice ; the luxurious pavilion of the marquis, 
 to which we are introduced after a frightful journey through a 
 storm ; and, above all, the conversation in vv^hich the marquis, 
 after a series of dark solicitations, understood by La Motte, as 
 pointing to Adeline's dishonor, proposes her death. This last, 
 as a piece of dramatic effect, is perhaps equal to any passage in 
 the author's works. The closing chapters of the work are 
 
428 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 inferior in themselves to its commencement ; but they gratify, by 
 affording a Avorthj^^ solution of the intricacies of a plot, which has 
 excited so deep an interest in its progress. 
 
 " The Mysteries of Udolpho," is by far the most popular of 
 Mrs. Radcliffe's works. To this preeminence, it is, w^e think, 
 justly entitled : for, although " The Italian," may display more 
 purely intellectual power, it is far less enchanting. Of all the 
 romances in the world, this is perhaps the most romantic. Its 
 outline is noble, it is filled with majestic or beautiful imagery, 
 and it is touched throughout with a dreamy softness, which har- 
 monizes all its scenes, and renders its fascination irresistible. It 
 rises from the gentlest beauty, by just gradations, to the terrific 
 and the sublime. Nothing can be fancied more soothing to the 
 mind, fevered with the bustle of the Vv'orld, than the picture of 
 domestic repose with which it opens. We are dwellers in the 
 home of the good St. Aubert, who has retired to a beautiful spot, 
 once the favorite scene of his youthful excursions ; and sharers 
 in its elegant and tranquil pleasures. Next come the exquisite 
 journey of the father and daughter through the heart of the Py- 
 renees, where we trace out every variety of mountain grandeur ; 
 the richly colored scene of vintage gaiety among the woods of 
 the chateau ; and the death of St. Aubert, in the neighborhood 
 of a place which we understand to be connected with his destiny, 
 and where strains of unearthly music are heard in sad accord- 
 ance wath human sorrow. When Emily's aunt, to whose care 
 she is consigned, marries the desperate Montoni, we feel that 
 the clouds are gathering round her progress, and we shudder 
 at the forebodings of approaching peril. A little interval is 
 given among the luxuries of Venice, which are painted with 
 exquisite delicacy and lightness ; and then the work of terror 
 begins. Nothing can be more picturesque than the ascent of 
 the Appennines : mountain seems to rise above mountain in 
 gloomy stateliness before us, till we skirt the inmost valley, far 
 shut out from the world, and Montoni, breaking a long silence, 
 utters the charmed words, " There is Udolpho !" The ideas of 
 extent, of massiveness, and austere grandeur, conveyed in the 
 description of the castle, have matchless force and distinctness, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 429 
 
 and prepare the mind for the crimes and wonders of which it is 
 the silent witness. Every thing beneath " these dark battle- 
 ments" is awful ; the slightest incidents wear a solemn hue, and 
 "Fate in sullen echoes" seems to "tell of some nameless deed." 
 Not only the mysterious appearances and sounds appal us, but 
 the rushing Avind, a rustling curtain, the lonely watch-word on 
 the terrace, have power to startle, and keep curiosity aw^ake. 
 The whole persecution and death of Madame Montoni seem 
 prodigious, as though they were something out of nature; yet 
 they derive all this importance from the circumstances with 
 which they are invested ; for there is nothing extraordinary in 
 the fate of a despicable woman, worried into the grave by her 
 husband, because she will not give up her settlement. The 
 mysteries of " Chateau le Blanc" are less majestic than those of 
 Udolpho, but perhaps they are even more touching ; at least, 
 the visit of Emily to the chamber where the marchioness died, 
 twenty years before, not without suspicion of poison, and which 
 had been shut up ever since, is affecting and fearful. The faded 
 magnificence of the vast apartment ; the black pall lying on the 
 bed, as when it decked the corpse ; the robe and articles of dress 
 remaining as they had been carelessly scattered in the lifetime 
 of their owner ; her veil, which hand had never approached 
 since, now dropping into pieces ; her lute on the table, as it was 
 touched on the evening of her death, would be solemn and spec- 
 tral, even if the pall did not move and g. face arise from beneath 
 it. This scene derives a tender interest from the stransfe likeness 
 which Emily seems to bear to the deceased lady, and which is 
 artfully heightened by the action of the old housekeeper, throw- 
 ing the black veil over her, and by her touching the long neg- 
 lected lute. Such are some among the many striking features 
 of this romance ; its defects are great and obvious. Its myste- 
 ries are not only resolved into natural causes, but are explained 
 by circumstances provokingly trivial. What reader would bear 
 to be told that the black veil, from which his imagination has 
 scarcely been allowed to turn for three volumes, conceals a waxen 
 image ; that the wild music, which has chanced to float on the 
 air in all the awful pauses of action, proceeded from an insane 
 
430 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 nun, permitted to wander about the woods ; and that the words, 
 which startled Montoni and his friends, at their guilty carousals, 
 were uttered by a man wandering through a secret passage, 
 almost without motive : unless the power and sweetness of the 
 spell remained after it was thus rudely broken ? 
 
 " The Italian" has more unity of plan than " The Mysteries 
 of Udolpho ;" and its pictures are more individual and distinct ; 
 but it has far less tenderness and beauty. Its very introduction, 
 unlike the gentle opening of the former romance, impresses the 
 reader with awe. Its chief agent, Schedoni, is most vividly 
 painted; and yet the author contrives to invest him with a 
 mystery, which leads us to believe, that even her image is in- 
 adequate to the reality. Up to the period, at which he unnatu- 
 rally melts from demon to man, he is always the chief figure 
 when he is present ; and, where we do not see him, his spirit 
 yet seems to influence all around us. The great scenes of this 
 romance stand out in bold relief as in compartments ; of which 
 the chief are the adventures in the vaults of Pallozzi ; the ma- 
 chinations of Schedoni and the marchioness, for the destruction 
 of the heroine; her confinement in the monastery of San Ste- 
 phano, and her escape with Vivaldi ; her terrible sojourn in 
 Spalatro's cottage on the sea-shore, and the whole representation 
 of the Inquisition, which fills the mind when Schedoni's supre- 
 macy ceases. Of these, perhaps the very finest is the scene in 
 the church, where the confessor makes palpable to the mar- 
 chioness the secret wishes of her heart for Ellena's death ; the 
 situation is essentially fearful, and all the circumstances are 
 contrived with admirable effect, to heighten, vary, and prolong 
 the feeling of curiosity and terror. The dreary horrors of the 
 fisherman's cottage are admirably painted ; but the effort to pro- 
 duce a great theatrical effect is very imperfectly concealed ; and 
 we cannot help being somewhat dissatisfied with the process of 
 bringing a helpless orphan to such a distance, merely that she 
 may be murdered with eclat ; with the equally unaccountable 
 delay in performing the deed, the strange relentings of the 
 ruffian, and the long preparation which precedes the attempt of 
 Schedoni to strike the fatal blow. There is great art in the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 431 
 
 scene, to which all this is introductory ; and the discovery of 
 the portrait is a most striking coup de theatre ; hut the art is 
 too palpable, and the contrast between the assassin and the father 
 too violent ; at least for a second perusal. Not so, the graphic 
 descriptions of the vast prisons of the Inquisition ; they are dim, 
 prodigious, apparently eternal ; and the style is solemn and 
 weighty as the subject. Mrs. Radcliffe alone could have deep- 
 ened the horror of this gloom by whispers of things yet more 
 terrible ; and suggest fears of the unseen, w^hich should overcome 
 the present apprehensions of bodily torture. 
 
 In her own peculiar style of composition, Mrs. Radclifie has 
 never been approached. Her success naturally drew forth a 
 crowd of imitators, who produced only cumbrous caricatures, 
 in which the terrors are without decorum, and the explanations 
 absolutely farcical. No successful writer has followed her 
 without calling to aid other means, which she would not con- 
 descend to use. The author of " The Monk," mingled a sickly 
 voluptuousness with his terrors ; and Maturin, full of " rich con- 
 ceits," approached the borders of the forbidden in speculation, 
 and the paradoxical in morals. She only, of all writers of ro- 
 mance, who have awed and affected the public mind, by hints 
 of things unseen, has employed enchantments purely innocent ; 
 has forborne to raise one questionable throb, or call forth a mo- 
 mentary blush. This is the great test, not only of moral feeling, 
 but of intellectual power ; and in this will be found her highest 
 praise. 
 
 Elizabeth Rowe, eldest daughter cf Mr. Walter Singer, 
 was born, September 14th, 1674, at Ilchester, in Somersetshire, 
 She gave early promise of those talents and amiable qualities by 
 which she was afterwards distinguished. Her father, who beheld 
 with pleasure the fertility of her mind, spared no pains in its 
 cultivation. She imbibed, from her parents, devotional senti- 
 ments, Avhich operating upon a susceptible temper, a lively ima- 
 gination, and an affectionate heart, gave an enthusiastic turn to 
 her character and compositions. She displayed in her child- 
 hood, a taste for the arts. Painting, drawing, and music, alter- 
 
432 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 nately engaged her attention ; but the bent of her genius was 
 more particularly directed to the cultivation of poetry. She began 
 to write verses at twelve years of age ; and in her twenty-second 
 year, she published, at the desire of two of her friends, a col- 
 lection of poems on various occasions. These productions were 
 principally on religious subjects ; and those of a lighter cast 
 were unexceptionable for the purity of their sentiment ; yet so 
 scrupulous did the author become, as she advanced into life, that 
 she recollected, with regret and uneasiness, the sportive sallies 
 of her youthful muse. Her moral sense was so exquisitely deli- 
 cate, that, not to have injured the cause of virtue, appeared to her 
 an insufficient plea; while she cherished a species of remorse for 
 having written any thing by which it was not directly promoted. 
 
 Her poetical talents introduced her, before she had completed 
 her twentieth year, to the family of Lord Weymouth, who became 
 her kind and liberal patrons, and whose friendship she enjoyed 
 through life. Her paraphrase of the thirty-eighth chapter of 
 Job, by which she acquired reputation, was written at the request 
 of bishop Ken, who resided, at that time, in the Weymouth 
 family. The Hon. Mr. Thyme, son to Lord Weymouth, took 
 upon himself the task of instructing her in the French and 
 Italian languages. She improved rapidly from the lessons of 
 her noble and friendly preceptor, being, in a few months, enabled 
 to read with great ease the "Jerusalem" of Tasso. 
 
 In the year 1710, she married Mr. Thomas Rowe. He was 
 thirteen years younger than his bride ; possessed with a supe- 
 rior understanding, considerable learning, a highly cultivated 
 mind, and an amiable temper. A marriage between two per- 
 sons, united by congenial acquirements, sentiments, and virtues, 
 notwithstanding the disparity of years, could scarcely fail of 
 proving happy. Mr. and Mrs. Rowe passed five years in the 
 most perfect harmony, confidence, and affection. He died in 
 1715, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, of consumption. 
 
 On his disease, her love of solitude revived, and having set- 
 tled her affairs, she removed to Frome, in Somersetshire, the 
 scene of her youthful pleasures. In this seclusion she composed 
 her " Friendship in Death," in twenty letters from the dead to 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY 433. 
 
 the living. Also, her " Letters, Moral and Entertaining," in 
 prose and verse. These productions, which display great sensi- 
 bility of heart, a lively imagination, and a visionary turn of mind, 
 were translated into French, and published at Amsterdam, in 
 1740. All the writings of Mrs. Rowe breathe a spirit of benevo- 
 lence, of purity, and of virtue, animated by a raised and enthusi- 
 astic devotion. 
 
 She possessed a command over her passions, and a constant 
 serenity and sweetness of temper, which neither age nor misfor- 
 tune, could sour or ruffle. It is questioned whether she had ever 
 been angry in her life ; a proof that the tender and gentle sen- 
 sibilities may exist independent of the irascible passions. She 
 knew not indignation, except against vice, where indifference is 
 almost criminal. To firm principles, and an elevated mind, she 
 added the softness and graces of her sex. She expressed, on all 
 occasions, an aversion to satire, so rarely free from malice and 
 personality; her conversation, like her writings, was the effu- 
 sion of a benevolent and amiable mind. She possessed peculiar 
 powers of conversation, an inexhaustible fancy flowing language, 
 the most perfect ingeniousness, with unaffected sweetness and 
 ease. She had no taste for what is called pleasure ; she mixed 
 in no parties of dissipation, was ignorant of any game, and 
 avoided formal and insipid visitings. Temperate, cheerful^ 
 friendly, and affectionate, she sought and found her happiness 
 in intellectual pursuits, the exercise of her affections, and the 
 enjoyment of simple pleasures. She had a contempt for riches^ 
 was content with a moderate income, nor would avail herself of 
 those pecuniary advantages to which, by her labors, she was. justly 
 entitled. The calm and uniform tenor of her life, her active 
 virtues, and happy constitution, produced a perpetual sunshine 
 of the mind, that diffused itself over all around her, and mad© 
 her most distant dependent happy. 
 
 On the day previous to her decease she appeared in perfect 
 health and vigor ; and after conversing with a friend, with unu- 
 sual vivacity, retired to her chamber early in the evening. On 
 the ensuing morning, February 20th, 1737, she expired. Her 
 disorder was pronounced to be an apoplexy. Her life had been 
 
 37 
 
434 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 tranquil, and except in the loss of her husband, unclouded, and 
 her death was happy. 
 
 Madame Roland. This admirable woman, the heroine of 
 the French revolution, and the martyr of liberty, was born in an 
 obscure station, the daughter of Gatien Philopon, an artist. In 
 childhood she was docile, and she quickly seized every idea 
 that was presented to her. " This disposition," says she, "was 
 turned to so good an account, that I never remember having 
 been taught to read. At four years old the business was in a 
 manner completed ; all that was necessary in future, was only 
 to supply me with books, which, whenever they were put into 
 my hands, were sure to engross all my attention, which nothing 
 but a nosegay could divert. Under the tranquil shelter of my 
 paternal roof, I was happy from my infancy, with flowers and 
 books. In the narrow confines of a prison, amidst chains, im- 
 posed by the most shocking tyranny, I forgot the injustice of 
 men, their follies, and my own misfortunes, with books and 
 flowers." 
 
 The parents of Mademoiselle Philopon, availed themselves of 
 her studious turn, to put into her hands the catechisms, with 
 the Old and New Testaments, while she learned with facility 
 every thing which was taught her. She became so enthusias- 
 tic, that she wished to retire from the world, and the silence and 
 solitude of a cloister presented a grand and romantic image of 
 sacrifice and seclusion, w^hich seized on her imagination, and 
 captivated her senses. " While pressing my dear mother in 
 my arms," say?^ she, "at the moment of our first separation, I 
 thought my heart would have burst, but I was acting in obedi- 
 ence to the voice of God, and passed the threshold of the clois- 
 ter, offering up to him with tears the greatest sacrifices I was 
 capable of making. This was the seventh of May, 1765, when 
 I was eleven years and two months old. How," added she, 
 '• shall I recall to my mind, in the gloom of a prison, and amidst 
 commotions which ravage my country, and sweep away all that 
 is dear to me, that period of rapture, and tranquility ? What 
 lively colors can express the soft emotions of a young heart, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 435 
 
 endued with tenderness and sensibility, greedy of happiness 
 awakening to the feelings of nature, and perceiving only the 
 Deity." 
 
 She was one year in the convent, and her thirteenth year 
 glided tranquilly away under the roof of her grandmother ; the 
 quiet of whose house accorded with the tender and contem- 
 plative disposition which she had brought with her from the 
 convent. 
 
 Her grandmother's little library was laid by her under con- 
 tribution, while the Philotee of St. Francis de Sales, and the 
 Manual of St. Augustin, became her favorite studies. The con- 
 troversial writings of Bossuet, which, about this period, fell into 
 her hands, furnished fresh food for her mind ; while, in defending 
 the faith, they let her into the secret of the objections opposed to 
 it, and led her to investigate the grounds of her belief This 
 first step gradually conducted her, in a course of years, after 
 having been Jansenist, Cartesian, stoic, and deist, to complete 
 scepticism. " What a route," observes she, "to terminate at last 
 in patriotism, which has brought me to a dungeon." 
 
 At the age of twenty she lost her mother, and her studies 
 constituted her only consolation. " Left more than ever by my- 
 self," says she, " and often in a melancholy humor, I felt the ne- 
 cessity of writing. I loved to render to myself an account of 
 my own ideas, and to enlighten them by the intervention of my 
 pen. When not employed in this way, I revised still more than 
 I meditated. Never," says she, " did I feel the slightest tempta- 
 tion to become an author, I perceived at a very early period, that 
 a woman who acquires this title, loses more than she gains. 
 The men do not like, and her own sex criticise her. If her 
 works are bad, she is ridiculed, if good, she is bereaved of the 
 reputation annexed to them. If the public are forced to ac- 
 knowledge that she has talents, they sift her character, her mo- 
 rals, her conduct, and balance the reputation of her genius by 
 the publicity which they give to her errors." 
 
 At the age of twenty-five she married M. Roland, a distin- 
 guished author, who was twenty years older than herself The 
 first year of their marriage was spent in Paris, where she was 
 
436 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 employed as an amanuensis to her husband, and the corrector 
 of his proofs, a task however, little suited to her cultivated mind, 
 which she fulfilled with humility and exactness. After the busi- 
 ness of a secretary and housekeeper was finished, this excellent 
 Avife, finding the state of her husband's health to be delicate, 
 condescended to prepare for him, with her own hands, the viands 
 that suited him best ; she filled up the remainder of her time 
 with the study of botany and natural history, of which she en- 
 tered into a course. 
 
 After leaving Paris, they spent four years in Amiens, where 
 Madame Roland performed the duties of a nurse and a mother, 
 without ceasing to participate in the labors of her husband, who 
 was charged with a considerable poriion of the New Encyclo- 
 pedia. In 1784, Monsieur and Madam Roland removed to the 
 city of Lyons, and settled at Villefranche. This year they 
 made the tour of England, and in 1787, that of Switzerland; 
 they also visited several parts of France, and had projected a 
 visit to Italy. 
 
 M. Roland, being chosen deputy extraordinary to the constit- 
 uent assembly, arrived with his family in Paris, in February, 
 1791. Here she became acquainted with Robespierre, Brissot, 
 and other actors in the revolution. Roland was appointed min- 
 ister for the home department, for which his indefatigable indus- 
 try, readiness in business, and methodical habits, well fitted him. 
 He was too patriotic however, to retain the office long. "Utility 
 and glory," says madame Roland, " were the consequences of 
 my husbands retreat. I had not been proud of his elevation to 
 the ministry, but I was proud of his disgrace." 
 
 With the revolution of the tenth of August, every one is ac- 
 quainted. Roland was recalled to the ministry, which he re-en- 
 tered with renovated hopes. The horrible scenes of massacre 
 which followed in September, compelled Mr. Roland to resign. 
 His resignation did not, however, appease his blood-thirsty ene- 
 mies, who surrounded his house for the purpose of imprisoning 
 him. His wife here performed a masculine part ; she flew to 
 the convention to defend her husband. He fled from their 
 rapacity, but she was taken and conducted to prison. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 437 
 
 The wife of the keeper made some civil observations, express- 
 ive of the regret which she felt when a prisoner of her own sex 
 arrived, "for," added she, "they have not all your serene coun- 
 tenance." Madame Roland thanked her with a smile, while she 
 locked her in a room, hastily put in order for her reception. 
 " Well then," said she, seating herself and falling into a train of 
 reflections, " I am in prison." The moments that followed, she 
 declares, she would not have exchano-ed for those which mig^ht 
 be esteemed by others as the happiest of her life, " I recalled 
 the past to my mind, I calculated the events of the future. I 
 devoted myself, if I may so say, voluntarily to my destiny, what- 
 ever it might be ; I defied its vigor, and fixed myself firmly in 
 that state of mind, in which, without giving ourselves concern 
 for what is to come, we seek only employment for the present." 
 
 Madame Roland had been induced, by her love of order and 
 
 habits of regularity, to enquire into the customs and expenses of 
 
 the prison, which she was desirous rigidly to observe. She 
 
 seemed to take a pleasure in making trials of her fortitude, and 
 
 in inuring herself to privations. She determined, therefore, to 
 
 make an experiment how far the human mind is capable of 
 
 diminishing gradually the wants of the body. She began by 
 
 substituting, in the place of coflee and chocolate, bread and water, 
 
 for breakfast. For her dinner, she desired to have one plain 
 
 dish of meat, with a few vegetables, and vegetables also for her 
 
 supper without a dessert. She likewise relinquished both wine 
 
 and beer. As her purpose, in adopting this conduct,, was moral 
 
 rather than economical, she appropriated the sums thus saved for 
 
 the relief of those miserable wretches who were lying on straw, 
 
 that while eating her dry bread in the morning, she might have 
 
 the pleasure of reflecting that, by this deprivation, she was adding 
 
 to their dinner. " If I remain here six months," said she, " I 
 
 will engage to leave the place with a healthy complexion, and a 
 
 body by no means emaciated ; having reduced my wants so far 
 
 as to be satisfied with bread and soup, with a few benedictions 
 
 incognito^ She also made little presents to the servants of 
 
 the prison, that her economy might not prove injurious to them. 
 
 By these means she considered that she rendered her inde- 
 
 3r 
 
433 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 pendence more perfect, and v;as at the same time a gainer in 
 good will. 
 
 From this prison she was removed to another, the prison of 
 St. Pelagie, where she employed her time in composing her 
 " Historical Memoirs." In the morning she studied English, 
 in Shaftsbury's " Essay on Virtue," and in the poetry of Thom- 
 son, by whom she was transported by turns to the sublime 
 regions of intellect, and to the affecting scenes of nature. 
 
 It was about this period that, to divert the vexation of her 
 mind, she determined on writing a narrative of her life. " I 
 should despise myself," says this truly philosophical and heroic 
 woman, " did I suffer my mind to sink in any circumstances. 
 In all the troubles I have experienced, the most lively impres- 
 sions of sorrow has been almost immediately accompanied by 
 the ambition of opposing my strength to the evil, and of sur- 
 mounting it, either by doing good to others, or by exerting to 
 the uttermost my fortitude. My ' Historic Notices' are gone. 
 I mean to write my memoirs ; and prudently accommodating 
 myself to my weakness, at a moment when my feelings are 
 acute, I shall talk of my own person, that my thoughts may be 
 the less at home. I shall exhibit my virtues and my faults wath 
 equal freedom. He who dares not speak well of himself, is 
 almost always a coward, who knows and dreads the ill that may 
 be spoken of him ; and he who hesitates to confess his faults, 
 has neither spirit lo vindicate, nor virtue to repair them." 
 
 She passed five months in prison, and with, the exception of 
 two or three real friends, whom the terrors of the place did not 
 prevent from coming to bewail with her the misfortunes of 
 France, no one expressed the least degree of pity or interest in 
 her fate. Neither in the journals, nor in the publications of the 
 day, was a single remonstrance, or a single word, written in 
 her behalf 
 
 A few days before madame Roland was dragged to the scaf- 
 fold, " If fate," said she, " had allo^ved me to live, there was one 
 thing only of w^hich I should be ambitious, that of writing the 
 annals of the present age, and of becoming the Macaulay of my 
 country. I have, during my confinement, conceived a real fond- 
 
FEMA.LE BIOGRAPHY. 439 
 
 ness for Tacitus, and cannot go to rest till I have read a passage 
 of his works. It seems to me, we see things in the same light, 
 and that, in time, and with a subject equally rich, it would not 
 have been impossible for me to have imitated his style." 
 
 After ihe two and twenty deputies were condemned to the 
 scaffold, Madame Roland considered theirs as a presage of her 
 own fate. Though resigned to death, she felt repugnant to be- 
 coming a spectacle to the savage curiosity of a ferocious multi- 
 tude. She beheld its approach with unaffected tranquillity. She 
 suffered her hair to be cut ofi^ and her hands to be bound, with- 
 out a murmur or a complaint. She traversed Paris, amidst the 
 insults of the populace, and received death with heroic firmness. 
 She seemed even to experience a degree of pleasure in this last 
 sacrifice to her country. She expressed in dying, a wish to 
 transmit to posterity, the new and extraordinary sensations 
 which she experienced, on her road from the Conciergerie to 
 the Place de la Revolution. For this purpose, when at the foot 
 of the scaffold, she demanded pen and paper, w^hich were refused 
 to her. Her last moments are thus described by Riouffe, who 
 was detained at the Conciergerie, when madame Roland arrived, 
 
 " The blood of the twenty-tAvo was not yet cold, when citizeness 
 Rolaad was brought to the Conciergerie ; aware of the fate that 
 awaited her, her peace of mind remained undisturbed. Though 
 past the prime of life, she was still a charming Avoman ; her 
 person was tall and elegantly formed, her countenance animated 
 and very expressive: but misfortune and confinement had im- 
 pressed on her mind traces of melancholy, which tempered its 
 vivacity. In a body moulded by grace, and fashioned by courtly 
 politeness, she possessed a republican soul. Something more 
 than is generally found in the eyes of women w^as painted in 
 hers, which were large, dark, and full of softness and intelli- 
 gence. She often spoke to me at the grate with the freedom 
 and firmness of a great man; while we all stood listening 
 around her in admiration and astonishment. On the day of her 
 condemnation, she was neatly dressed in white, her long black 
 hair flowing loosely to her waist. At the place of execution, 
 she bowed before the statue of liberty, while she exclaimedj 
 
440 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 •Oh liberty, what crimes are committed in thy name!' She 
 frequently said her husband would not survive her; which pre- 
 diction was accomplished, for he ran himself though the body 
 with a SAvord, on the road from Rouen." 
 
 In a letter, written the day previous to her death, she says, 
 *' To-morrow, according to the accounts brought us from all 
 quarters, and the preparations made long since, may be the last 
 day of our lives. I am what you have always known me, de- 
 voted to my duties which I love, appreciating life for the bless- 
 ings of nature, and the enjoyments of virtue. I am too much 
 habituated to despise death, to fear, or to fly from it. I leave my 
 daughter good examples, and a memory ever dear to her. May 
 she judge, feel, and avail herself of every thing with a con- 
 science always pure and a soul as expansive, as have been those 
 of her parents." 
 
 Radhia, a Moorish Spaniard of Corduba, the freedwoman of 
 king Adelrahman, who wrote many volumes on rhetoric. She is 
 said to have lived one hundred and seven years, and to have died 
 in the year 1044. 
 
 Ruth, a Moabitess, the widow of Mahlon, an Israelite, whose 
 interesting history is recorded in the Old Testament, and has 
 been imitated by Thompson, in his history of Palemon and 
 Lavinia. 
 
 During the period in which the judges ruled over the children 
 of Israel, there was a grievous famine in the land. Among 
 great numbers, who left their habitations to seek bread in other 
 countries, a certain man of Bethlehem Judah, named Elimelech, 
 went to sojourn in the country of Moab. He took with him his 
 wife, whose name was Naomi, and his two sons ; and soon after 
 their arrival, the two young men married two Moabitish women, 
 the name of one of whom was Orpah, and the other Ruth. 
 
 After a residence of ten years, during which time Naomi bu- 
 ried her husband and her two sons, she determined to return to 
 her own native country. But, concluding it would not be agree- 
 able to her two daughters in law to leave the place of their na- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 441 
 
 tivity, and follow her into a strange land, she desired them just 
 before her departure, to return each to her mother's house. " And 
 may the Lord deal kindly with you," said the good old woman, 
 "as ye have dealt with the dead, and me!" She then tenderly 
 embraced them. 
 
 Affected by this regardful behavior of their mother in law, 
 Orpah and Ruth both wept, and said, " Surely we will return 
 with thee unto thy people." But Naomi continuing to dissuade 
 them, Orpah was at length prevailed on to remain with her 
 mother. Ruth, however, would not listen to any calls but those 
 of tenderness for Naomi. " Intreat me not to leave thee," said 
 she to her, " or to return from following after thee ; for w^hither 
 thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy 
 people shall be my people, and thy God, my God ; where thou 
 diest will I die, and there will I be buried, and the Lord do so to 
 me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." After 
 this emphatic and determined declaration, Naomi no longer 
 opposed Ruth's going with her. 
 
 When they arrived at Bethlehem, they appear to have been 
 in such distressed circumstances, that Naomi, upon hearing her 
 old acquaintance exclaim, " Is not this Naomi?" replied, " Call 
 me not Naomi, but Mara, for the Almighty hath dealt bitterly 
 with me. I went out full, and am returned empty." 
 
 In the same city lived a young man, whose name was Boaz ; 
 he was nearly related to Elimelech, Naomi's late husband, and 
 was a person of great wealth. It being now the beginning of the 
 barley harvest, Ruth proposed to her mother in law, as the most 
 probable means of procuring a present subsistence, that she 
 should suffer her to go into the fields belonging to Boaz, and 
 there to glean after his reapers, hoping to find greater indul- 
 gence from one to whom they were related than from a stranger. 
 Having received Naomi's permission, and dressed herself as 
 decently as her present circumstances would allow, Ruth went 
 as proposed into the fields. Her beauty and comeliness did not 
 long remain unobserved by Boaz. Seeing a stranger, he in- 
 quired who she was, and being informed, treated her with great 
 kindness; not only allowing her to glean, but ordering the 
 
442 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 reapers now and then to let fall a handful on purpose for her. 
 When he had learned, from some of his servants, the whole 
 of her story, he graciously accosted her, saying, " It has been 
 shown unto me all that thou hast done unto thy mother in law, 
 since the death of thy husband, and how thou bast left thy father 
 and thy mother, and the land of thy nativity, and art come unto 
 a people which thou knewest not heretofore. The Lord recom- 
 pense thy works, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord 
 of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust." Having 
 said this, he gave directions that she should partake of what was 
 prepared for his people, and be permitted to pursue her employ- 
 ment as long as the harvest lasted. Ruth received those tokens 
 of favor with grateful humility, and thanked him for the friendly 
 notice he had taken of her. 
 
 When she returned to Naomi in the evening, and showed her 
 the great quantity of corn she had collected, and likewise ac- 
 quainted her with the favorable reception she had met with from 
 Boaz, the good old woman began to entertain views for the future 
 benefit of her dutiful and beloved daughter in law, which she 
 had never before contemplated. 
 
 As Boaz was so near a relation to her late husband, was un- 
 married, and therefore, agreeable to the custom of the Jews, the 
 most proper person to take her to wife, she meditated how to 
 bring about a union between them. The difference in their 
 circumstances, she flattered herself, would not prove to be an 
 irremoveable bar ; as, to a man of Boaz's generous disposition, 
 the beauty and virtues of Ruth might be esteemed equivalent to 
 his wealth. She accordingly gave her daughter in law such pru- 
 dential instructions for ingratiating herself still further into the 
 esteem of their rich relation, that in a short time he married her. 
 
 Thus was an obscure Moabitish damsel, through her prudent 
 and virtuous behavior, raised from a low estate to such an 
 eminence, that mighty kings, and even the Savior of mankind 
 descended from her. 
 
 Margaret Roper. In favor of the liberal cultivation of the 
 mind of woman, it may be observed, that at no period of English 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 443 
 
 history does there appear to hav^ been gr«^ater attention paid to 
 the cuhivation of the female mind, than during the age of Eliza- 
 beth; and at no time has there existed a greater number of 
 amiable and respectable women. Even the domestic affections 
 and appropriate virtues of the sex, modesty, prudence, and con- 
 jugal fidelity, far from being superseded by study and the liberal 
 sciences, are, on the contrary, both strengthened and embellished. 
 The habits of reflection and retirement which grow out of the 
 exercise of the understanding, are equally favorable to virtue 
 and the cultivation of the heart. While the mind, by seeking 
 resources in itself, acquires a character of dignity and indepen- 
 dence, a sentiment of grandeur and generosity is communicated 
 to its afiections and sympathies. Dissipation and frivolous pur- 
 suits, by enfeebling the understanding, have a tendency to 
 harden and to narrow the heart. If the concentrated passions 
 of stronger minds, and these examples among women are rare, 
 have sometimes been productive of fatal effects, an impressive 
 and affecting lesson, as in the sublimer devastations of nature, 
 may be derived even from their failures. But the being, restless 
 in the pursuit of novelty, irritable, dependent, unstable, and vain, 
 who lives only to be amused, becomes necessarily selfish and 
 worthless, the contempt and burthen of society, the reproach of 
 one sex and the scorn of the other. Among women distin- 
 guished for their worth and acquirements in the sixteenth cen- 
 tury, the three daughters of Sir Thomas More held an elevated 
 rank. 
 
 Margaret, eldest daughter of Sir Thomas More, Lord Chan- 
 cellor of England, w^as born in London, in the year 1508. She 
 received, in the fashion of the times, a learned education, while 
 men of the first literary reputation were procured by her father 
 for her preceptors. The following interesting and patriarchal 
 description of the family of the chancellor, is given by Erasmus. 
 " More," says he, in a letter to a friend, " has built near London, 
 on the banks of the Thames, (Chelsea,) a commodious house, 
 where he converses affably with his family, consisting of his 
 wife, his son and daughter in laAV, his three daughters, with 
 their husbands, and eleven grand children. There is no man 
 
444 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 living so fond of his children, or who possesses a more excellent 
 temper. You would call his house the academy of Plato. But 
 I should do it an injury by such a comparison ; it is rather a 
 school of Christian goodness, in which piety, virtue, and the 
 liberal sciences are studied by every individual of the family. 
 No wrangling or intemperate language is ever heard ; no one 
 is idle: the discipline of the household is courtesy and benevo- 
 lence. Every one performs his duty with cheerfulness and 
 alacrity." What a charming picture, contrasted with modern 
 seminaries of vice and dissipation. 
 
 Margaret, the eldest daughter of this amiable family, was 
 more peculiarly distinguished for her talents and genius. Doct. 
 Clement and Mr. William Gonell, who ranked with the most 
 celebrated linguists of the age, were her tutors in the languages; 
 from Mr. Drue, Mr. Nicholas, and Mr. Richard Heart, she ac- 
 quired a knowledge of the arts and sciences. Under the care 
 of these gentlemen, she became mistress of the Greek and Latin, 
 and made considerable progress in astronomy, philosophy, phy- 
 sics, logic, rhetoric, music, and arithmetic. Sir Thomas, to 
 whom all his children were dear, regarded his eldest daughter, 
 in whose attainments and powers he felt a laudable pride, with 
 peculiar tenderness. She is said to have written a pure and ele- 
 gant Latin style. Her father delighted in holding Avith her an 
 epistolary correspondence; some of her letters, which he com- 
 municated to persons of the most distinguished abilities and 
 learning, received high and just praise. 
 
 In 1528, in the twentieth year of her age, Margaret gave her 
 hand to William Roper, Esq., a man of talents and learning, 
 amiable and accomplished, whose congenial qualities united him 
 to the family of the chancellor, by the most cordial and indisso- 
 luble ties. The young couple continued to live at Chelsea, with 
 the family, till its worthy head, after being taken into custody, 
 was confined in the Tower. Two sons and three daughters were 
 the fruit of this marriage, whose education was superintended 
 by their mother with the most assiduous care. She correspond- 
 ed, and Avas personally acquainted, with Erasmus, the restorer 
 of learning, by whom she was styled Britanise decus, and in 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 445 
 
 whose estimation she held a high place. Sir Thomas having 
 presented to Erasmus a valuable picture, by Hans HoUein, in 
 which he was himself represented, surrounded by his children, 
 Erasmus returned his acknowledgements in a Latin episile, 
 which he addressed to Margaret. In this letter he expresses the 
 pleasure he felt in receiving a representation of a family he so 
 truly respected, and more especially that of a lady, whose resem- 
 blance could not be beheld without being reminded of her ex- 
 cellent and admirable qualities. Margaret replied to this compli- 
 ment in an elegant Latin epistle, in which, after expressing her 
 pleasure in the satisfaction the picture had afibred to her friend, 
 she acknowledges him as an instructor to whom she should ever 
 feel herself grateful. 
 
 Having, in the early part of her life, applied herself to the 
 languages, she now prosecuted, with no less assiduity, the study 
 of philosophy, of the sciences, of physics, and of theology. The 
 two latter branches of knowledge were more particularly recom- 
 mended to her by her father. Till this period, her life glided 
 on serenely, a calm unruffled stream, in the acquisition of sci- 
 ence, and in the bosom of her family. It became now^ agitated 
 and perturbed by the tragical fate of her beloved and invaluable 
 father. 
 
 The chancellor, having disapproved the conduct of Henry 
 VIII., in the business of his divorce from Catherine, his first 
 wife, thought proper to resign the seals, and incurred, by this 
 measure, the displeasure of a capricious tyrant. Sir Thomas, 
 living under the same roof and in the midst of his family, the 
 expenses of which he had hitherto defrayed from his revenue, 
 knew not how, on the resignation of his office, to support the 
 idea of a separation from them. Having assembled his chil- 
 dren together, he advised with them respecting the measures 
 which it would be necessary to pursue ; and, while they listened 
 to him in mournful and respectful silence, thus addressed them : 
 "I have been brought up at Oxford, at an inn of Chancery in 
 Lincoln's Inn, and in the King's Court, from the lowest degree 
 to the highest ; and yet have I, in yearly revenues, at this pre- 
 sent time, little left me above one hundred pounds a year. If, 
 
 38 
 
446 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 therefore we continue to live together, we must all become con- 
 tributors. But my counsel is, that we descend not to the lowest 
 fare first ; we Avill not yet comply with Oxford fare, nor that of 
 New Inn : but we will begin with Lincoln's Inn diet, where 
 many persons of distinction live very agreeably. And should 
 we find ourselves incapacitated from living thus the first year 
 we will, the next conform ourselves to that of Oxford. Should 
 our purses not even allow us that, we may afterwards, with bag 
 and wallet, go and beg together : — hoping that, for pity, some 
 good people will give us their charity ; and at every man s door 
 we will sing a salve regina, whereby we shall still keep com- 
 pany, and be merry together." This excellent family was soon 
 after dispersed ; but Margaret and her husband still continued 
 to reside near their father. 
 
 Sir Thomas, refusing to take the oath of supremacy, the pros- 
 pect now became darker, he was committed to the custody of 
 the abbot of Westminster, whence, continuing inflexible, he was 
 removed to the Tower. Overwhelmed with grief, his daughter 
 was, through incessant importunity, at length allowed to visit 
 him. Admitted to his presence, she left no argument, expostula- 
 tion, or entreaty, unessayed, to induce him to relent from his 
 purpose. But her eloquence, her tenderness, and her tears, 
 proved alike ineffectual, the principles and constancy of this 
 great but unfortunate man, were not to be shaken. Margaret, 
 less tenacious, or less bigoted, had herself taken the oath, with 
 the following reservation. — " As far as would stand with the law 
 of God." 
 
 The family, on this affecting occasion, seem again, from a 
 letter addressed by Mrs. Roper to her father, to have assembled 
 at Chelsea. " What think you my most dear father," says she, 
 " doth comfort us, in this your absence at Chelsea ? Surely, the 
 remembrance of your manner of life passed among us, your 
 holy conversation, your wholesome counsels, your examples of 
 virtue, of which there is hope, that they do not only persevere 
 with you but that they are by God's grace, much more increas- 
 ed." During the imprisonment of Sir Thomas, a frequent in- 
 tercourse of letters passed between him and his beloved daughter; 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 447 
 
 and when deprived of pen and ink, he contrived to write to her 
 with a coal. 
 
 It is related by Dr. Knight, in his " Life of Erasmus," that 
 sentence having been passed on the chancellor, his daughter, as 
 he was returning towards the Tower, rushing through the popu- 
 lace and guards, threw herself upon his neck, and without speak- 
 ing, in a stupor of despair, strained him closely in her arms. 
 Even the guards, at this affecting scene, melted into compassion, 
 while the fortitude of the illustrious prisoner nearly yielded. 
 •' My dear Margaret," said he, "submit with patience, grieve no 
 longer for me, it is the will of God, and must be borne." Ten- 
 derly embracing her, he withdrew himself from her arms. He 
 had not proceeded many paces, when she again rushed toward 
 him ; again, in a paroxysm of sorrow, more eloquent than words, 
 threw herself on his bosom. Tears flowed down the venerable 
 cheeks of Sir Thomas, while he gazed on her with tender calm- 
 ness ; yet his heroic purpose continued unmoved. Having en- 
 treated her prayers for him, he bade her affectionately farewell, 
 while every spectator dissolved in tender sympathy. 
 
 The care of Margaret extended to the lifeless remains of her 
 beloved parent ; by her interest and exertions, his body was, after 
 his execution, interred in the chapel of St. Peter's, ad vincula, 
 within the precincts of the Tower ; and, was afterwards removed 
 to the chancel of the church at Chelsea. His head, having re- 
 mained fourteen days exposed on London bridge, in conformity 
 to his sentence, was about to be cast into the Thames, when it 
 was purchased by his daughter. Being, on this occasion, inhu- 
 manly summoned before the council; she firmly avowed and 
 justified her conduct. This boldness did not escape the ven- 
 geance of the king ; she was committed to prison, whence, after 
 a short restraint, and vain attempts to subdue her courage by 
 menaces, she was liberated, and restored to her husband and 
 family. 
 
 The remainder of her life was passed in domestic retirement, 
 in the besom of her family, and in the education of her children. 
 She is described by Mr. More, in his life of Sir Thomas, as a 
 woman of singular powers and endowments, and as chosen by 
 
448 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her father, for her sagacity and prudence, as his friend and con- 
 fidant. She composed many Latin epistles, poems, and orations, 
 which were dispersed among the learned of her acquaintance 
 Two declamations were likewise written by her, and translated 
 both by herself and her father, with equal spirit and eloquence, 
 into Latin. She also composed a treatise, " Of the four last 
 things," with so much justice of thought, and strong reasoning, 
 as obliged Sir Thomas to confess its superiority to a discourse 
 in which he was himself employed on the same subject, and 
 which, it is supposed, on that account, was never concluded. 
 The ecclesiastical history of Eusebius, was translated by this 
 lady from the Greek into Latin ; its publication was superceded 
 by that of bishop Christopherson, a celebrated Grecian of that 
 period. This labor of learning was afterwards translated from 
 the Latin into English, by Mary, the daughter of Margaret Ro- 
 per, who inherited the talents of her mother. 
 
 Mrs. Roper, whose learning and genius procured her the 
 respect and admiration of the most distinguished characters of 
 her country, and of the age in which she lived, survived her 
 father only nine years, she had been a wife sixteen years, and 
 died in 1554, in her thirty-sixth year. In compliance with her 
 desire, the head of her father was interred with her, in her arms, 
 as related by some ; or, according to others, deposited in a leaden 
 box, and placed upon her coffin. 
 
 Sarah Smith, was born at Hanover, in the state of New 
 Hampshire, in the year 1789. She was the daughter of John 
 Smith, D.D., professor of the learned languages at Dartmouth 
 college. He was a profound scholar in his professorship, and 
 so deeply engaged in his duties, that his daughter never re- 
 ceived any assistance in her studies from him. Her mother 
 was the daughter of Colonel David Mason, an excellent soldier, 
 and an enlightened philosopher, who was a coadjutor of Dr. 
 Franklin, in the science of electricity. Mrs. Smith is a woman 
 of superior mind, and of deep reflection, as well as of exemplary 
 life and conversation. She yet lives, the ornament of her age. 
 
 At a very early age, Sarah was at the head of her school, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 449 
 
 and seemed to take her place as a matter of right, for her supe- 
 riority was attended with so much meekness of disposition, that 
 no one of her school mates felt envious of her elevation. She 
 made no apparent effort to be learned, but was well acquainted 
 with the Latin language, although she had not gone far in 
 the Latin classics. At the early age of fourteen, she wrote a 
 mock heroic poem, on some village incidents, which embraced 
 lively descriptions of many personages Avell > known to each 
 other. It was full of genius and pleasantry, and discovered a 
 deep knowledge of character for one so young. She was early 
 a professor of religion, but never lost her love of society for a 
 moment in her life. Her religion concentrated the rays of hap- 
 piness, rather than the gloom of despondency ; her prayers for 
 mankind were full of hope for those in darkness, for she be- 
 lieved the bright effulgence of religion would, in time, attract 
 the attention of those who might appear the most thoughtless. 
 She w^as well read in divinity, and could give a sound reason 
 for her faith. She preferred the strong minds among the great 
 lights of the church, to those who dwell too long upon emotion. 
 She read Sherlock oftener than Whitfield, or the author of the 
 " Bank of Faith." 
 
 She wrote poetry with great ease, of a most sentimental char- 
 acter, abounding in beautiful images, and happy illustrations. 
 Her epistolary correspondence was of an affectionate, cheerful, 
 and pious cast; and many solicited the honor of exchanging 
 letters with her. Some of her letters that have fallen within the 
 notice of the writer, would do credit to Mrs. Hemans, or any 
 other distinguished woman of the age. Her conversation was 
 delightful, no matter what the subject, however common place 
 it might be, she threw into it without any effort, a charm that 
 showed at once her talents and her disposition. In early life it 
 w^as seen that the canker worm had been concealed in the blos- 
 som, and that her sojourn with the world was not to be long. 
 Of this she was fully aware, but it did not for a moment disturb 
 the serenity of her soul ; all was settled, all was calm on this 
 subject ; she would often allude to her state of health, but with- 
 out a sigh, nor would even a shade of melancholy cross the 
 
 33* 
 
450 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 features of her face, in contemplating her early exit from this 
 world. 
 
 Although she felt no anxiety for the continuance of her life, 
 she deemed it a duty she owed herself and friends to take good 
 care of herself, and was careful to guard herself from a damp 
 evening air. She read, wrote, and conversed, to the extent of her 
 strength, but never suffered her passion for gaining knowledge 
 to overcome her sense of duty. She entered the circle of her 
 friends with a wasted frame that seemed a gossamer, with a smile 
 on her countenance, while her eyes sparkled with more than 
 mortal fire, and was at once the centre of attraction. There was 
 no study, no affectation, no parade of knowledge, in her conver- 
 sation; all was tasteful, easy, elegant, enchanting. Her disposi- 
 tion was most admirable. She might be grieved, but no one ever 
 saw her offended. No envy, nor malice, ever entered her heart. 
 It was the abode of charity and love alone. The writer of this 
 slight memoir, saw Miss Smith the month preceding her disso- 
 lution ; he had seen her when a child, and witnessed the devel- 
 opement of her high intellectual powers in the course of her 
 education. He now saw her emaciated form, heard her feeble 
 voice, and listened to her religious admonitions. She had done 
 with the world, she had made her peace v/ith heaven, and was 
 watching, with saint-like resignation, for her hour of departure. 
 It was a lovely day in June, 1812, when the soft light of evening 
 was taking the place of a brilliant sun, that I held the last con- 
 versation with this pure spirit, that was hovering on the confines 
 of another world. She directed the conversation, all naturally, 
 to a future existence. She gave her reasons for a full belief in 
 it without effort, but they were full of philosophy and religion. 
 She spoke of our fallen nature, of divine grace, and of the pro- 
 mises of the gospel ; all connected with the immortal longings' 
 incorporated with our existence, to live beyond the grave. 
 There was no voice of terror in it, no thrilling suggestions of 
 punishment, but it was the soft, soul-inspiring exhortation of a 
 departing spirit to a lover of the world. Such a lesson, such a 
 gentle farewell, would cure the infidel of his doubt, and melt the 
 heart of stone to water. She arose to no romantic rhapsody, such 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 451 
 
 as I had witnessed in the dying hours of such as had been sud- 
 denly converted. She asked for no horses or chariots of fire, 
 to carry her up to heaven, but wished to rest her head on her 
 Savior s bosom, when he appeared to receive her spirit, as the 
 angel of death was discharging his mission. In the midst of 
 this heavenly strain, she came back to the scenes of time and 
 sense, and breathed a sincere wish that the listener might see 
 long and happy days, before he should be summoned to follow 
 her. I know not how long I should have remained under the 
 spell, if holy influences can be called a spell, if others had not 
 come to catch her prayer and share her smiles. Her parting 
 look, I never shall forget; in that hour all worldly ambition, all 
 panting after wealth, fame, or human knowledge, became as the 
 drop in the bucket, as the dust in the ballance, without measure, 
 and without regard; and although many of the dark waves of 
 time have since rolled over me, and swept away all " trivial fond 
 records," yet the impressions, then made, often rise to my recol- 
 lection, fresh as ever. 
 
 Most of the poetry of Miss Smith is at this time, beyond my 
 reach ; the little I am able to offer the reader, will prove the 
 delicacy of her taste, and the cast of her mind ; but to have a 
 just idea of her character, one must have been acquainted with 
 her, as she passed on, all lovely and glorious, to another world. 
 I have only made a few extracts, from some memoranda 
 from her pen, as she w^as on her rapid journey to the grave. 
 There is deep reflection, and holy feeling in her language. 
 
 THE WHITE CLOVER. 
 
 There is a little perfumed flower 
 That well might grace the loveliest bower, 
 Yet poet never deigned to sing 
 Of such an humble rustic thing. 
 Nor is it strange, for it can show 
 Scarcely a tint of Iris' bow. 
 Nature, perchnnce, in careless hour, 
 With pencil dry might paint the flower 
 Yet instant blushed her fault to see, 
 So gave it double fragrancy, 
 Rich recompense for aught denied. 
 Who would not homely garb abide, 
 
452 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 
 
 If gentlest soul were breathing there, 
 Blessings throughout its little sphere 7 
 Sweet flower! the lesson thou has taught 
 Shall check each proud ambitious thought ; 
 Teach me internal worth to prize, 
 Though clad in lowhest, rudest guise. 
 
 This was a playful Anacreontic on a cup of cold water. Has 
 not the chrystal spring as much inspiration now as when it 
 welled for the Grecian muse? 
 
 Haste and bring the sparkling prize, 
 This the cup I love to sip, 
 Blithe I raise it to my lip ; 
 Lurks no poison here to pain, 
 Chill the heart and fire the brain. 
 Haste thee, boy, a wreath entwine. 
 Fresh from Virtue's generous vine. 
 Graceful buds of many a hue, 
 Meek Innocence! thy emblem true. 
 This the cup I love to sip, 
 Blithe to raise it to my lip. 
 
 Ah me! and shall the lettered pag3 
 No more my studious thoughts engage. 
 While thirsting, but forbid to share 
 The sweets of knowledge treasured there. 
 And must a weak uncultured mind 
 Within this feeble frame be shrined 7 
 Must youth forego her vernal day, 
 Flit idle, unimproved away. 
 While vainly asks my heart to be 
 Thine active fiend, Humanity? 
 Forgive, Religion ! shall a worm repine, 
 And dare to murmur at the will divine? 
 Lord ! at thy feet submissive let me fall, 
 O give thyself, and take my earthly all. 
 
 The following lines were written shortly before her death, 
 with a pencil, as she was gazing on some passing clouds, seen 
 from her dying couch. 
 
 On some such light and fleecy cloud, 
 
 Methinks my soul may fly, 
 When once released this cumbrous load> 
 
 Of dull mortality. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 453 
 
 Reason, I love to close thine eye, 
 
 When Autumn winds are rising high, 
 
 And fancy Nature cries aloud, 
 
 Waving her dark funereal shroud, 
 
 Sighing to veil her pallid breast, 
 
 Beneath her white and dazzling vest. 
 
 No wreath adorns her naked head, 
 
 To sullen skies her arms are spread, 
 
 She sees the cloudy wing on high, 
 
 'Tis dark November rushing by; 
 
 He stays not in his rude career, 
 
 But mocks her hopes with brow severe. 
 
 Fair suppliant, for I call the fair. 
 
 Though gem nor blossom thou doest wear. 
 
 Stay yet a httle, and the boon. 
 
 So long protracted, is thine own. 
 
 Stay yet a little, solemn thought, 
 
 From fancy's lip, the sound has caught. 
 
 There is a drapery of death. 
 
 No mockery of fancy's breath, 
 
 Hid in the future's doubtful gloom, 
 
 It waits us, tenants of the tomb. 
 
 Hail spotless robe ! thy peaceful fold 
 
 Lies quiet on the bosom cold ; 
 
 When strife within is sweetly o'er. 
 
 And the dread warfare pains no more. 
 
 Mary Saltonstall, was the daughter of William Whit- 
 titigham, of Boston, who descended from an illustrious line of 
 puritans. His daughter Mary was married to a merchant, by 
 the name of Clarke, when only eighteen years of age, in 1687. 
 With this worthy man she lived twenty-seven years, when he 
 died, leaving her a good estate, which, added to her patrimony, 
 made her very wealthy. In two years after the death of Mr. 
 Clarke, she married Gurdon Saltonstall, then governor of the 
 state of Connecticut. He died in 1724, and she returned to 
 Boston, and died in 1730. She was a woman of extraordinary 
 powers of mind, with a good education, and of most exemplary 
 piety. She was at the head of society in Connecticut, as well 
 as in Boston. She was a patron of colleges and churches. Be- 
 fore the death of Governor Saltonstall, she gave a hundred 
 pounds to Harvard college, and the same sum to Yale, and by 
 
454 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 will, a thousand pounds to Harvard, to assist two young men of 
 bright parts and sober lives intended for the ministry. On the 
 poor, large sums had been bestowed by her in her life time, 
 and she remembered them also in her will. She was remarka- 
 bly eloquent in conversation, and was at home in all the topics 
 on the carpet at that day. She had kept up a constant inter- 
 course with her friends and connections in England, and was, 
 of course, furnished with the best productions of the literary 
 age of queen Anne. Milton, Young, and Pope made up more 
 of the education of literary women than they now do, since the 
 new generation of poets have come up to dazzle and bewilder. 
 
 The will of Mrs. Saltonstall was written by her own hand, 
 and is a curiosity for its precision and elegant chirography. 
 That only a few scanty materials can be found of such a woman, 
 when many of but little note among men, have been mentioned, 
 can only be accounted for, by looking at the fashion of the 
 times, which was to keep all females from notoriety. Females 
 had perhaps as much influence in society then as now, but they 
 certainly were not so fortunate as to find as many gallant histo- 
 rians as at the present day. The learned Prince wrote her 
 character ; she was his parishioner, and he esteemed her as a 
 woman of superior virtues and attainments. 
 
 Sarah Louisa P. Smith. When highly gifted minds are 
 taken from the world, the public sustain a loss ; and it is but 
 justice to ourselves to mourn that bereavement, and to recount 
 their endowments in the sincere language of affection and truth. 
 The papers have announced the premature death of Mrs. Sarah 
 Louisa P. Smith, formerly Miss Hickman. Shew^as born June 
 thirtieth, 1811, and died February twelfth, 1832, in the twenty- 
 first year of her age. Fler maternal ancestors resided many 
 years at Newton, near Boston, but Louisa was born at Detroit, 
 while her grandfather. Major-general William Hull, was gover- 
 nor of that territory. She went to Massachusetts in her infancy 
 with her good mother, and there received her education, under 
 her watchful eye. She early attracted the attention of those 
 who had the care of her as instructors ; they loaded the extra- 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 455 
 
 ordinary child with medals and tokens of approbation, as proofs 
 of her proficiency. The ease with which she acquired infor- 
 mation was not more remarkable than the modesty which ac- 
 companied her superiority. She was so affectionate towards all 
 her schoolmates, that they readily gave up their pretensions to 
 share in the rewards bestowed upon her talents and acquire- 
 ments. She began, from the promptings of her imagination, to 
 write almost in infancy ; and these productions were redolent 
 with Castalian dews. She had a quick perception, and a most 
 wonderful memory, and she acquired knowledge without any 
 apparent effort ; sti]l her mind was in constant activity. In look- 
 ing over some of her early productions, we are surprised at their 
 depth of thought, as well as the felicitous manner in which she 
 clothes her ideas. Her mind seems to reflect the images of na- 
 ture, as the pure and transparent waters of a lovely lake. She 
 gathered, selected, and combined these images, and gave them 
 voice and harmony, as the fabled sea-nymphs blended poesy 
 and song in their coral cells. Her first productions were shown 
 to her instructors and family friends, without the ambition of 
 literary distinction. To gratify them, she now and then ventured 
 to send some of the pieces she wrote to the periodicals of the 
 day, under various signatures ; the publishers not conjecturing 
 from whom they came. These were greatly admired, and often 
 reprinted. Good judges spoke of these productions as beauti- 
 ful specimens of descriptive and sentimental poetry; and al- 
 though it was impossible not to see the glow of youthful fancy 
 about them, yet no one imagined that they came from a school- 
 girl, who had just entered her teens, -While her name was a 
 secret to all but a few, she heard her effusions compared 
 with those of Henry Kirke White, and of Mrs. Hemans, and 
 others of that school ; and when her friends would no lon- 
 ger suffer the concealment of her name, and it was announ- 
 ced that I. L. C, S. L., Ella, &c., &c., was a young lady of 
 fifteen only, the public were not a little incredulous as to the 
 fact ; but w^ere, after a while, perfectly convinced, for she was 
 applied to by several of the publishers of the annuals, &c., 
 for pieces for their volumes, which were furnished with a 
 
456 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 promptitude no less surprising than their excellence. Miss 
 Hickman being now known, she became an object of atten- 
 tion. If she would not have been called beautiful by the 
 crowd, there was something so deeply interesting in her 
 countenance, something so prepossessing in her whole appear- 
 ance, that the tasteful would at first sight have pronounced her 
 no ordinary woman. Her countenance v^'as full of the light of 
 mind, and her head was of that peculiar form that would have 
 thrown the phrenologist into ecstasy. Her complexion was fine, 
 soft, and delicate, and her expression sweet and mutable. In 
 the autumn of 1828, Miss Hickman was married to Mr. S. J. 
 Smith, then the editor of a literary periodical in Providence. 
 The next season they moved to Cincinnati, in Ohio. This union 
 was short, but one of great afl^ection. Before they left Provi- 
 dence, her husband published a volume of her poems, collect- 
 ing some of those previously given to the public in the columns 
 of literary papers, and others were written as the book was 
 passing through the press. It is at all times a hazardous thing 
 for a poet of maturity, and in full strength, to gather up his fugi- 
 tive productions, and present them in a volume. R. T. Paine, 
 Mrs. Hemans, and even Moore, for a while lost fame by such a 
 course. The mind is so constituted that it will not relish a pro- 
 fusion of sweet morsels at once so readily as if it met them acci- 
 dentally; but Mrs. Smith did not share the common fate of 
 authors in this respect, for many of the papers, from Georgia to 
 Maine, noticed her volume ; if not all with equal discrimination, 
 they all abounded in a high measure of praise. While she 
 resided in the west, she was ranked among the sweetest min- 
 strels of that region ; a land of charming scenery, and of minds 
 of fresh and vigorous thought. She found the muses on the 
 borders of the beautiful Ohio as fond to inspire their votary as 
 they were on the banks of the Charles, where she first courted 
 their smiles. To form a just estimate of her merit, we must 
 take into view her age, and the circumstances under which she 
 wrote. She indulged in no reveries of fame or profit, but took 
 up her pen to pass a leisure hour, and to pour out her heart 
 upon some theme that casually came across her imagination. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 457 
 
 She had no jealousy of rival poets, but read their works with 
 the kindest feelings, and was at all times alive to their merits. 
 With the elements of mind, taste, and feeling, such as hers, reli- 
 gion — pure, warm, uneffected religion — was almost certainly to 
 be found in the very fitness of things. Hers was the religion 
 of belief with affection ; the exercise of benevolence in word 
 and deed, attended by the brightest visions of hope and immor- 
 tality. No one can express their views of futurity better than 
 herself: 
 
 I would not have thee deem my heart 
 
 Unmindful of those higher joys, 
 Regardless of that better part 
 
 Which earthly passion ne'er alloys; 
 I would not have thee think I live 
 
 Within heaven's pure and blessed light, 
 Nor feeling nor affection give 
 
 To Him who makes my pathway bright. 
 I could not chain to mystic creeds 
 
 A spirit fetterless and free, 
 The beauteous path to heaven that leads. 
 
 Is dimm'd by earthly bigotry ; 
 And yet for all that earth can give, 
 
 And all it e'er can take away, 
 I would not have that spirit rove 
 
 One moment from its heaven- ward way; 
 I would not that my heart were cold 
 
 And void of gratitude to Him 
 Who makes those blessings to unfold, 
 
 Which by our waywardness grow dim ; 
 I would not lose the cherish'd trust, 
 
 Of things within the world to come, 
 The thoughts that when their joys are dust. 
 
 The weary have a peaceful home. 
 For I have left the dearly loved. 
 
 The home, the hopes of other years. 
 And early in its pathway proved 
 
 Life's rainbow hues were formed of tears. 
 I shall not meet them here again, 
 
 Those loved and lost and cherish'd ones, 
 Bright links in young afTection's chain, 
 
 In memory's sky unsetting suns. 
 But perfect in the world above, 
 
 Through suffering and trial here. 
 Shall glow the undiminished love 
 
 Which clouds and distance fail'd to sear. 
 89 
 
A^S FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 But I have lingered all too long, 
 Thy kind remembrance to engage, 
 
 And woven but a mournful song, 
 Wherewith to dim thy page ! 
 
 The mind of Mrs. Smith was not like that of one of 
 those precocious beings, who early reach the height of thei? 
 powers, and after having astonished their friends, by the prema 
 ture blossoms of spring, yield no summer fruit or autumnal har 
 vest. What she might have done, if she had lived, can easily 
 be inferred from what she was doing when taken from us ; she 
 was then reviewing her early partialities in letters, criticising 
 the justice of her own opinions, and reversing her judgments 
 when convinced that they were wrong. These are the labors 
 of a clear and vigorous mind and an honest disposition, and 
 when taken up with ardor, and persevered in, seldom fail to end 
 in greatness- 
 
 One of her last productions was a dirge, written at the re- 
 quest of a friend, who was engaged in a work upon some por- 
 tion of the annals of Poland, and when he came to that affecting 
 passage of history Avhere Kosciusko fell, and was supposed by 
 all Warsaw to have been dead, he wished to introduce a hymn, 
 as sung on that night of grief by the holy sisters of the con- 
 vent. The following lines were furnished a few days after the 
 request was made ; they are full of eloquent beauties : 
 
 DIRGE. 
 
 Through Warsaw there is weeping, 
 
 And a voice of sorrow now. 
 For the hero who is sleeping 
 With death upon his brow ; 
 The trumpet-tone will waken 
 No more his martial tread, 
 Nor the battle-ground be shaken 
 When his banner is outspread ! 
 Now let our hymn 
 
 Float through the aisle. 
 Faintly and dim, 
 
 Where moon-beams smile; 
 Sisters, let our solemn strain, 
 Breathe a blessing o'er the slain ! 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 459 
 
 There's a voice of grief in "Warsaw, 
 
 The mourning of the brave, 
 O'er the chieftain who is gather'd 
 
 Unto his honor'd grave; 
 Who now will face the foeman 1 
 Who break the tyrant's chain 7 
 Their bravest one lies fallen, 
 And sleeping with the slain. 
 Now let our hymn 
 
 Float through the aisle, 
 Faintly and dim, 
 
 Where moon-beams smile; 
 Sisters, let our dirge be said 
 Slowly o'er the sainted dead! 
 
 There's a voice of woman's weeping, 
 
 In Warsaw heard to-night, 
 And eyes close not in sleeping, 
 
 That late with joy were bright ; 
 No festal torch is lighted. 
 
 No notes of music swell, 
 Their country's hope was blighted 
 When that son of freedom fell ! 
 Now let our hymn 
 
 Float through the aisle. 
 Faintly and dim. 
 Where moon-beams sraile; 
 Sisters, let our hymn arise 
 Sadly to the midnight skies ! 
 
 And a voice of love undying, 
 
 From the tomb of other years, 
 Like the west wind's summer sighing 
 
 It blends with manhood's tears ; 
 It whispers not of glory, 
 
 Nor fame's unfading youth. 
 But lingers o'er a story 
 Of young affection's truth. 
 Now let our hymn 
 
 Float through the aisle, 
 Faintly and dim 
 Where moon-beams smile ; 
 Sisters, let our solemn strain 
 Breathe a blessing o'er the slain ! 
 
 The prose writings of Mrs. Smith were as direct evidence of 
 intellectual superiority as the best of her poetical productions. 
 They are marked with that ease, grace, and enchanting sweet- 
 
460 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ness that may be found in her happiest efforts m verse. If the 
 term may be allowed — and what shall be condemned that fairly 
 illustrates a truth — there is a sort of eider-down of the soul un- 
 der all the nestlings of her creation, that gives them the softest 
 repose that can be imagined. She attempted no eagle-flights — 
 these were to be the efforts of riper years — all her thoughts 
 were in the moon-light groves of the nightingale, or in the 
 sunny vales, among the birds of paradise, Avhose delicate and 
 fairy feathers, upturned to the sun, drink, reflect, and untwist 
 all the glorious rays of light that blaze in the Indian isles. 
 We would not, we could not yield the dictates of our judg- 
 ment to the overflowings of the sensitive eulogist, yet we can- 
 not take our last look of this delightful vision that has so 
 lately passed away, without thinking that she " was free among 
 the dead," before she had fulfilled the ordinary years of her mi- 
 nority. If conjugal affection, maternal care, or the prayers of a 
 host of devoted friends could have saved her, she would still have 
 been living. She died at the same age of the youthful bard, to 
 praise whom, in never-dying verse, Byron stopped from his strange 
 wanderings, and to commemorate whom, Southey wrote a volume. 
 
 Dorothy Scott, the daughter of Edmund Quincy, the 
 second of that name distinguished in the annals of Massachu- 
 setts, was born about the year 1750, and was married in 1774, 
 to John Hancock, afterwards president of congress, whose 
 name is affixed to the declaration of independence. She was 
 with him at Concord, when the British made their attack at 
 Lexington and Concord, April 19th, and fled Avith him to an 
 adjacent toAvn, Woburn. Hancock was eager to get into the 
 fight, but was restrained by the advice of Samuel Adams, who 
 knew the value of such a man as Hancock in the contest then 
 commenced, and which he saw would not suddenly be closed. 
 
 Mrs. Hancock had moved in the first circles of taste and 
 fashion, and gratified her husband's ambition in presiding with 
 so much elegance at his table, and by leading the conversation, 
 in those times of high political feeling to topics in which all 
 would agree. Hancock was sorely afflicted with the gout, and, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 461 
 
 naturally irritable, it required, at times, all lier blandishments to 
 keep him from outraging all around him ; but she never tired 
 in her exertions, but acted the dutiful, kind wife at all times, 
 without retort or peevishness. They had no children, those 
 careful comforts of wedded life, who, if they add to our labors 
 in providing for them, fill up many a void, felt in the existence 
 of the wisest who have no offspring. From her husband's char- 
 acter and situation in life, she was in a perpetual round of com- 
 pany, until the death of Governor Hancock, which happened in 
 1793. He supposed that he had left his widow a splendid for- 
 tune, but it turned out, in the way it was managed, only a fair 
 competency. Several years after the decease of Mr. Hancock, 
 she intermarried with Captain Scott, with whom she enjoyed as 
 much happiness as with her former husband, if she enjoyed less 
 splendor. She outlived her second husband many years, and 
 retained her mental faculties in great brightness when turned of 
 seventy. She had been well educated and had fine talents, and 
 loved admiration and notice just enough to make her fluent in 
 conv^ersation, united with pride and good sense sufficient to make 
 her careful in her communications. 
 
 In the latter part of her life, she lived retired and in seclusion. 
 He was most honored, who received an invitation to her little 
 supper table. Two or three friends only would be found there. 
 She supported her share of the conversation with wonderful ease 
 and sprightliness. No bitterness upon the decay of good society, 
 the almost perpetual theme of those who w^ere once fashionable, 
 and have by time, or change of circumstances, passed, as out of 
 date, was ever heard in her house. She spoke of other days 
 Avith cheerfulness, without a sigh that they had gone. She had 
 treasured up many anecdotes of the days previous and during 
 the revolution, and told them as one who took no airs from hav- 
 ing been an actor in these memorable scenes. There was not 
 an officer in the British army, quartered in Boston, whose per- 
 sonal appearance, habits, and manners, she could not give with 
 accuracy and graphic eflect. Her favorite was Earl Percy ; for 
 his forces encamped on Boston common during the winter of 
 1774-5 ; and this nobleman, accustomed to all the luxuries of 
 
 39* 
 
462 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 high born Britons, slept among his regiment in a tent, no more 
 protected from the cold than those of his private soldiers. It is 
 not a little remarkable, that the traces of those tents are still to be 
 seen on the common when the grass is just springing out of the 
 ground, after the vernal showers. The circles around the tents 
 are as distinct as ever. At the daw^n of the morning, Mrs. Scott 
 says, that Earl Percy's voice was heard drilling his men on the 
 common. 
 
 This lady had an opportunity, after the capture of Burgoyne, 
 of extending: her courtesies to the ladies of his army, while at 
 Cambridge, under the convention. They were gratefully received 
 and never forgotten. When Lafayette was here, during his last 
 visit, he made an early call on his old friend Mrs. Scott, formerly 
 Madame Hancock. Those who witnessed the interview, speak 
 of it with admiration. The once youthful chevalier and the 
 splendid belle met, as if only a season had passed since they had 
 danced together in the halls of the assembly. While they both 
 were contemplating the changes time had produced, they smiled 
 in each others faces ; but no word was uttered, bearing upon 
 such an ungallant subject. She was not always so silent on this 
 subject. One of her young friends complimented her on her 
 good looks. She laughingly said, " what you have said is more 
 than half a hundred years old; my ears remember it; but what 
 were dimples once are wrinkles now." 
 
 In her opinions of men of her time, she was a wonderfully ac- 
 curate judge, particularly of those intimate at her table. Among 
 one of her frequent guests was a patriot who represented a 
 tov/n in the county of Essex, in that state. At his own home 
 his influence w^as great. He said but little in mixed company, 
 although, in religious assemblies, he spoke and prayed with 
 fluency. The politicians washed to give him some office, but 
 hesitated to decide the question for what he was most fitted, 
 as he was embarrassed in the house of representatives and in 
 large circles. Mrs. Hancock, at once understanding his charac- 
 ter, playfully, but sincerely replied, " Make him treasurer, he is 
 too honest to misapply a copper himself, and too shrewd and 
 firm to suffer any other person to rob him ;" but the pious and 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 463 
 
 disinterested patriot would not be seduced into office. His hon- 
 esty was rewarded by his countrymen suffering him to die with 
 barrels of paper money stowed away in his garret, for which 
 he had given a valuable consideration, and for which he never 
 received a farthing. Such reward had America to offer her 
 patriots and the children of her martyrs. 
 
 She seldom appeared in the streets, but when she did, the 
 magnates bowed to her as one of those w^hom they had delighted 
 to honor. They were proud to remember her, and prouder still 
 to be remembered by her. To the last day of her life she was 
 as attentive to her dress as when first in the circles of fashion. 
 " She would never forgive a young girl," she said, " who did not 
 dress to please, nor one who seemed pleased with her dress." 
 
 She died in 1828, in the seventy-eighth year of her age; 
 content that she had lived so long, and not reluctant to depart. 
 Her good sense was constantly apparent ; and no one, in the 
 course of her long life, ever questioned her benevolent disposi- 
 tion, or doubted the sincerity of her religious faith. She deserves 
 a book of biography, instead of a page. 
 
 ]Mary Starbuck. If we look at the origin of every coun- 
 try, state, or colony, we shall find that the women had more to 
 do with the foundation of their prosperity than the men : but it 
 has so happened, I will not say by design, but rather by the 
 course of events, that but few of them have been fairly placed 
 on the pages of history. There is a small island, within the 
 limits of Massachusetts, known to most of the ^vorld from the 
 enterprise and wealth of its inhabitants, whose history is unique 
 — this is the island of Nantucket. In 1659, it was taken pos- 
 Ksession of by two white men and their families, Thomas Macy, 
 and Edward Starbuck. They fled when the quakers were per- 
 secuted, and settled on this island. They were joined by others 
 who were apprehensive of being involved with Hugh Peters, 
 a preacher of note, who had been prominent in the revolution 
 which brought Charles I. to the scaffold. On the restoration 
 of his son, Charles II., the whole world was searched for those 
 who had been unfriendly to his father. Among these, perhaps, 
 
464 * FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 although not of great importance, were those who settled Nan- 
 tucket; for while they lived at Salisbury, on the Merrimack, 
 they had been intimate friends of Hugh Peters. People in a 
 primitive state always discriminate m.ore accurately than those 
 of a more advanced standing. The aborigines seldom have a 
 coward for their leader. Mary Starbuck, the wife of one of 
 these first settlers of Nantucket, was a woman of superior mind. 
 The influence of that mind commenced when she had but few 
 or no rivals ; and for more than half a century, she exercised 
 that control, that great sagacity and sound sense, with virtuous 
 principles, always deserve to have. This people saw their in- 
 sular situation, and knew that, as they increased, the soil could 
 not be depended upon alone for subsistence, and they made 
 their harvests on the waves of the ocean, a territory, which no 
 agrarian law could reach. Whales were seen dashing near 
 them, and the sight was too tempting for them to refrain from 
 the fishery. They knew nothing of the manner of harpooning 
 them at that time, but by the advice of Mary Starbuck, they 
 sent to Cape Cod for some persons acquainted with the business 
 of catching whales. Interest is always quick sighted. By the 
 advice of Mary Starbuck, the system which has characterized 
 the whalers of Nantucket from all other co-partners, was estab- 
 lished. " Let each have an interest, and every one will do his 
 duty," was her maxim. 
 
 More than sixty large ships are now owned in Nantucket, en- 
 gaged in the whale fishery. The first whaling vessels were 
 small ; they went north, then south, and in process of time swept 
 round Cape Horn, when larger vessels were built ; and then 
 they circumnavigated the globe, in the course of their business. 
 These whalers, perhaps, now little think how much they are 
 indebted to Mary Starbuck for the first great principles which 
 now govern these voyages ; and but little did Mary Starbuck 
 know of the oceans they were to explore; but such is the power 
 of mind, well directed in the early stages of society. A curious 
 subject of contemplation naturally presents itself, as we see 
 the proud whaling ships, returning from their long voyages, 
 laden with valuable cargoes, and then run back to the origin 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 465 
 
 and progress of this great business, to the time when Mary Star- 
 buck saw her children and kindred set sail for the monsters of the 
 deep, in small boats, and return with success. If, at Nantucket, 
 you inquire of the first one you meet, (and these islanders are an 
 intelligent people,) for the monument raised to Mary Starbuck, 
 the answer will be, Mary has no monument. If you ask, well 
 then, where was she buried? Why, I never heard where; but 
 probably on that rising ground, as it is generally understood that 
 it was once used as a burial place, and there is one small grave- 
 stone there which goes to support the tradition. If Mary Star- 
 buck ever had a monument, the sands have blown over it, and 
 it cannot be found at this day. Tradition does not assist us to 
 speak precisely of the time of her death, but represents her as 
 living to a good old age. 
 
 Anna Maria A. Schurman, a learned German lady, was 
 a daughter of parents who were both descended from noble pro- 
 testant families, and was born at Cologne, in 1607. She discov- 
 ered from her infancy, an uncommon facility in acquiring various 
 accomplishments. She cut Avith her scissors, from paper, all 
 sorts of figures, without any model. She was skilled in embroid- 
 ery, vocal and instrumental music, painting, sculpture, and en- 
 graving; and is said to have succeeded equally in all these arts. 
 Mr. Evelyn, in his " History of Caligraphy," has observed, 
 that " the very knowing Anna Maria A. Schurman is skilled in 
 this art, with innumerable others, even to a prodigy of her sex." 
 Her hand writing in all languages was inimitable ; and some 
 curious persons have preserved specimens of it in their cabinets. 
 M. Joby, in his journey to Munster, relates that he was an eye 
 witness to the beauty of her hand writing, in French, Greek, 
 Hebrew, Syriac, and Arabic ; and of her skill in drawing in 
 miniature, and making portraits on glass with the point of a dia- 
 mond. She painted her own picture by means of a looking 
 glass, and made artificial pearls so much like natural ones, that 
 they could not be distinguished but by pricking them with a 
 needle. 
 
 The powers of her undertanding were not inferior to her skill 
 
466 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in these arts ; for at eleven, when her brothers were examined in 
 the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, she often whispered 
 to them what they were to answer, though she was but a casual 
 hearer of their lessons. Her father, therefore, began to instruct 
 her more perfectly in that knowledge which made her so justly 
 celebrated ; and very soon the Greek, Latin, and Hebrew lan- 
 guages became so familiar to her, that she not only wrote, but 
 spoke them in a manner which surpassed the most learned men. 
 She made also great progress in the Syriac, Chaldee, Arabic, and 
 Ethiopic ; and of the living languages, she understood and spoke 
 readily, the French, English, and Italian. She was completely 
 versed in geography, astromomy, philosophy, and the sciences, 
 so as to be able to judge of them with exactness; but all her 
 accomplishments yielded at last to divinity, and the study of the' 
 scriptures. 
 
 Her father, who had settled at Utrecht, and afterwards re- 
 moved to Frankfort, for the more convenient education of his 
 children, died there in 1623. His widow then returned to 
 Utrecht, where Anna Maria continued her studies very intensely, 
 which probably prevented her from marrying, as she might have 
 done, Mr. Cats, commonly called, in history, Lord Cats, pension- 
 ary of Holland, one of the first statesmen of his age, and a cele- 
 brated poet, who wrote verses in her praise when she was only 
 fourteen. This great man was astonished at her powers. 
 
 Her modesty, which was as great as her knowledge, would 
 have, in a measure, kept her in obscurity, if Rivetus, Spanhiem, 
 and Vossius, had not made her merit known. Salmasius, also 
 Beverovicius and Huygens, maintained a literary correspond- 
 ence with her ; and by showing her letters, spread her fame into 
 foreign countries. This procured her a correspondence with 
 Balzac, Gassendi, Mercennus, Borhart, Courart, and other emi- 
 nent men. Persons of the first rank paid her visits, and cardinal 
 Richelieu shared her marks of esteem. About 1650, a great 
 alteration took place in her religious creed. She performed her 
 devotions in private, without frequenting any church, upon which 
 it was reported that she was inclined to popery ; but she had at- 
 tached herself to the famous mystic Labadie. She supported him 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 467 
 
 eflTectually for awhile. By her influence, Elizabeth, Princess 
 Palatine, became one of his converts, and opened an asylum to 
 all the wandering and fugitive disciples of that preacher, and 
 esteemed it an honor to collect what she called the true church, 
 and declared her joy in being delivered from error, which she 
 had previously'- cherished. Miss Schurman followed Labadie 
 during life, and supported him in her arms when dying, 1674 ; 
 another proof that fanaticism has great influence over the warm 
 and tender hearts of women, who, thinking no evil believe none. 
 She afterwards retired to Wiewart in Friseland, where William 
 Penn, the quaker, visited her, in 1677, and was struck with 
 astonishment at her wonderful powers of mind. She died at 
 Friseland, in 1678. She took for her devise these words of St. 
 Ignatius : " Amor mens crucifixus est." She wrote many works, 
 one defending the genius and taste of women for literature, with 
 letters in various languages. 
 
 Madame de Stael may, indeed, be said to have established a 
 more brilliant reputation in the republic of letters, than any one 
 of her sex that has ever lived. Her death, which happened at 
 Coppert, in Switzerland, in July 1817, produced an almost 
 unexampled sensation, the more lively, on account of the stri- 
 king and affecting circumstances by which it was marked. At 
 the commencement of the year, she seemed to have anchored 
 firmly in the port of earthly happiness ; the storms which were 
 constantly gathering over her head, during the ascendency of 
 Bonaparte, had all passed away ; she was safe from persecution 
 and exile ; Lewis XVIII. had restored to her the two millions 
 of francs which her father, M. Necker, deposited in the treasury 
 of France, in the year 1790 ; her daughter was united to a man 
 of the highest rank and of distinguished talents ; her residence 
 in Switzerland had become a shrine, at which genius and 
 learning were always to be found assembled, from every part of 
 Europe. She could devote her leisure to composition, with all 
 the aids to be drawn from the most intelligent and varied soci- 
 ety, an abundant fortune, and entire freedom of opinion. She 
 was yet young, comparatively, not having exceeded her fiftieth 
 
468 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 year, and being of a constitution that promised a long life. In 
 the midst of these advantages, she was suprised by a fatal 
 malady, and after five months of the severest suffering, sunk into 
 the arms of death. Such a catastrophe to such bright hopes ; 
 so radiant a genius so unexpectedly quenched ; the exuberant 
 spring of so much rich imagery and fine philosophy forever 
 dried up ; the centre and soul of so captivating a society irre- 
 trievable gone, were considerations that rushed at once upon 
 all minds and hearts, and gave, in her case, a peculiar solemnity 
 and sadness to the common fate of mortals. 
 
 Madame de Stael was born and educated to splendid destinies. 
 Her father, M. Necker, was a farmer-general of immense wealth, 
 and of great talents and knowledge ; and her mother was re- 
 markable for the extent of her literary attainments, the strength 
 of her understanding, and the dignity of her character. M. 
 Necker, even when at the head of the finances of France, might 
 still be said to be wrapped up in this their only child, who 
 requited his care by an admiration and devotion almost fanatical, 
 and never for an instant interrupted by any of the vicissitudes 
 of his memorable career. At an early age she married a man 
 of rank, the baron de Stael, ambassador from Sweden to the 
 court of France. Placed thus, by reason of the situation of 
 both flitlier and husband, in the very vortex of the dissipation of 
 the French court, she yet sought and contrived to win the 
 highest distinction in the walks of literature. She had only 
 reached her twentieth year when she published her " Letters 
 upon the works and character of J. J. Rousseau," wherein she 
 displayed, occasionally, powers of composition almost rivalling 
 those of the extraordinary man of whom she treated. Able 
 critics have decided that she presented, in this little volume, a 
 more satisfactory analysis and juster views of the genius and 
 tendency of his writings, than are contained in the many pon- 
 derous dissertions to which the controversy on these topics has 
 given birth. She was of opinion that Rousseau had been guilty 
 of suicide, and gave some offence to his worshippers, by bringing 
 together all the circumstances which lead, as we think, irresisti- 
 bly, to that conclusion. It was over the women of his day that 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 469 
 
 Rousseau had thrown his deepest spell, and it redounds to the 
 credit of Madame de Stael's youthful judgment, that she escaped 
 with something of a moderate degree of enthusiasm for the works 
 of the arch enemy of order and morals. The " Letters upon 
 Rousseau" attracted much attention, and were assailed in several 
 pamphlets, to one of which the fair author replied in a powerful 
 strain of vindication. 
 
 In the year 1790, she printed two dramatic effusions in verse ; 
 the one a comedy, entitled " Sophia, or Secret Sentiments," the 
 other, a tragedy, " The Lady Jane Gray :" hoth composed two 
 years preceding. In the month of August, 1793, appeared her 
 " Defence of Marie Antoinette ;" that is, two months hefore the 
 execution of the unhappy queen. We owe a tribute of praise to 
 the generosity of spirit which dictated this production, and to 
 the courage implied in the publication of it at such a period. 
 Madame de Stael had the best opportunities of observing the 
 character of the so much reviled consort of Lewis XVL ; she 
 approached her often, and was the less liable to view her with 
 partiality, as the queen would have prevented the return of M. 
 Necker to the ministry, and took no pains to conceal her aversion 
 to the predominance of his counsels. His daughter stood forth 
 fearlessly in her defence, in the hour of danger, and, to the last, 
 asserted her titles to esteem. 
 
 The masculine genius with which Madame de Stael was en- 
 dowed, and the restless activity of her spirit, would have led her 
 to politics, had not even the conjuncture and her domestic rela- 
 tions been such as they were, and the habits of her sex in France 
 conducive to that end. We may conjecture how far they were 
 privileged in the world of business, by the remarks which she 
 makes on the subject in the work last mentioned. " Women of 
 a certain rank used to intefere with every thing before the revo- 
 lution. Their husbands and their brothers were in the practice 
 of employing them on all occasions as applicants to ministers ; 
 they could urge a point strongly, with less apparent impropriety ; 
 could even outstep the proper limits, without affording an open- 
 ing to complaint; and all the insinuations, which they knew how 
 
 to employ, gave them considerable influence over men in office." 
 
 40 
 
470 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Madame de Stael appeared no where in foreign countries as 
 a stranger ; at London, as well as at Paris, at Rome and Weymar, 
 she was equally in her element, and naturalized herself at once 
 in the society of finest intelligences ; she w^as mistress of the 
 principal languages of Europe, and familiar with the literature 
 of Italy, Germany, and England. Her instinctive sagacity 
 pointed, and her enthusiasm kindled, at what was excellent in 
 the literary productions, political institutions, and social habits 
 of the nations which she visited ; she celebrated what she ad- 
 mired, according to the gratification afforded to her exquisite 
 tastes and deep sensibility. In Italy, she was all alive to the 
 prodigies of art, to the beauty of the climate, to the fervor of the 
 native genius, and the ease of social intercourse. In Germany, 
 she was captivated by the solidity and simplicity of character, 
 the independence of the literary spirit, the hardihood of the phi- 
 losophical theories, the novelty and raciness of the poetical 
 style and imagery. In England, the political institutions were 
 .seen by her in their abstract perfection, and contrasted with what 
 she had witnessed and loathed in her own country, of arbitrary 
 rule, and personal insecurity ; the purer morals, the sounder 
 sense, the more general information and rational philosophy, the 
 natural dignity and manly tone of the British, made the deepest 
 impression upon her, and accordingly she has, in the third 
 volume of her " Considerations," where she treats at large of 
 England, the air of a determined and interested eulogist. What- 
 ever she undertook to describe, received, moreover, the hues of 
 her own fancy, and was more or less affected in the representa- 
 tion, by her original modes of expression. The kindness of her 
 nature, too, had its influence, and is evidenced by the prodigality 
 of her praises. 
 
 It is known, that she formed the resolution, at one period, ot 
 emigrating to these United States. We heartily wish she had 
 done so, as she was already prepared by her political opinions, 
 to view our institutions Avith an unclouded and even an affec- 
 tionate eye. She has not overlooked this nation in her " Con- 
 siderations," and it is with particular satisfaction that we transcribe 
 the following passages of the third volume. " That admirable 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 471 
 
 good sense, which is founded on justice and security, exists no 
 where but in England or in America."****" There is a people 
 who will one day be very great, I mean the Americans. One 
 stain only obscures the perfect splendor of reason that vivifies 
 that country ; slavery still subsists in the southern provinces ; 
 but when congress shall have found a remedy for that evil, how 
 shall we be able to refuse the most profound respect to the insti- 
 tutions of the United States ? Whence comes it then, that many 
 English allow themselves to speak with disdain of such a 
 people ? " They are shop-keepers," they repeat. And how did 
 the courtiers of Louis XIV. talk of the English themselves ? 
 The people of Bonaparte's court also, what did they say ? The 
 Americans, it is true, declared war against England at a very 
 ill-chosen time, with respect to Europe. But America, on this 
 occasion, looked only to what concerned her interest ; and she 
 can certainly not be suspected of having wished to favor the 
 imperial system. But could the declaring war unseasonably 
 against England, justify the burning of Washington ? What is 
 there more honorable for mankind than this new world, which 
 has established itself without the prejudices of the old; this new 
 world, where religion is in all its fervor, without needing the 
 support of the state to maintain it ; where the law commands by 
 the respect it inspires, without being enforced by any military 
 power V 
 
 On the restoration of the Bourbons, the interdict of Napoleon 
 against her, was rescinded, and she repaired to Paris, from 
 which no length of absence could estrange her affections. It was 
 there that her sympathies had the fullest gratification, and that 
 she triumphed anew, at almost every moment, by her colloquial 
 powers, which, out of France, could not be exercised with the 
 same freedom and effect; although, as we can testify, it was not 
 necessary to be a native of that country, to be sensible of their 
 surpassing versatility and energy. She adhered, under Louis 
 XVIIL, to her liberal doctrines in politics and literature, and 
 her dwelling in Paris continued, during the first year of the 
 restoration, to be the head-quarters of what was styled the liberal 
 party. 
 
472 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 In the midst of the bustle of political revolutions, and the 
 conflict of party-interests, she found leisure to raise a monument 
 to the memory of her father, in the interesting volume entitled 
 •' Life of M. Necker." The two last years of her life, she was 
 chiefly employed in preparing for the press, her great work, the 
 " Considerations on the principal events of the French revolu- 
 tion," which has been recently published in three volumes, octavo, 
 by her son and son in law. The first and second volumes, and 
 a portion of the third, received her last corrections. The news- 
 papers have given remarkable accounts, w^hich we do not sup- 
 pose to be in the least exaggerated, of the avidity with which 
 this posthumous publication has been sought and read in Europe. 
 By her early opportunities, her high connections, and her range 
 of observation, Madame de Stael was especially qualified for 
 passing in review the events, parties, characters, and results of 
 the French revolution ; and the knowledge of this adventitious 
 aptitude, independently of her reputation for ability as a writer, 
 served to excite in the European world, a lively curiosity. 
 There is enough, particularly in the two first volumes of the 
 " Considerations," to reward it, and to secure to her a foremost 
 rank among political authors. The investigation with which 
 she sets out, of the causes of the fall of the monarchy, is not so 
 satisfactory to us, as some other inquiries which we have read ; 
 and we would cite as the preferable one, in our estimation, that 
 of Senac de Meilhan, whom she unwarily pronounces a super- 
 ficial writer. But she is eminently successful in describing the 
 first movements, and developing the principles and aims of the 
 early parties of the revolution, preparatively to exhibiting, as 
 she does in firm and speaking profile, the whole series of the 
 revolutionary governments. The last of these, that of Bonaparte, 
 concentered in the man, being of deeper concern to her and the 
 world, shares, with her father's administration, her most earnest 
 attention and vigorous touches. She will have ample revenge 
 for her personal wrongs, if posterity should decide on the 
 character of Napoleon from her final representations ; and in 
 truth, we know of none better entitled to determine its judgment, 
 when we consider the certainty and cogency of the facts, the 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 473 
 
 sagacity of the reasonings, and the soundness of the principles, 
 by which they are supported. If there be, here, some stirrings 
 of passion and private feeling, scarcely any thing of the kind is 
 visible in the preceding parts of her work, except, as we have 
 already intimated, in relation to the impeccability of her father's 
 administration. In all the rest, including even the exposition of 
 the state of affairs, and the conduct of parties after the reinstate- 
 ment of the Bourbons, contained in the third volume, she dis- 
 plays a remarkable degree of impartiality, candor, and calmness 
 of deliberation ; so as to leave us under the impression that her 
 " Considerations" are likely to have the most salutary effect, at 
 all times, upon the public mind of France. Her tone, as to 
 the value and indispensableness of free institutions, is uniformly 
 peremptory, and indicative of the steady elevation and inde- 
 pendence of her spirit ; and it is impossible for the reader not 
 to be convinced that she was chiefly actuated, in the composition 
 of the work, by the hope of promoting the liberties of France 
 in the first place, and then of the human race. She excels in her 
 historical portraits, which are numerous, and drawn from the 
 life. We have, too, some fifle specimens of historical criticism, 
 to which, although it is so commonly attempted, none but an 
 understanding of the highest order, is properly equal. The last 
 six or eight chapters of the third volume, have the objectionable 
 features of a rough draught ; but contain a number of those 
 luminous general reflections, which are so thickly sown in the 
 finished portions of the work. 
 
 The productions which we have mentioned, do not make up 
 the whole of Madame de Stael's literary labors. She published 
 besides, " Zulma, and three novels, preceded by an essay on 
 Fictions;" " Reflections on Suicide," &c., and contributed the 
 articles "Aspasia," "Cleopatra," "Camoens," &c. in the Univer- 
 sal Biography. Her son proposes to publish a complete edition 
 of her works, in which will be included some inedited pieces, 
 and among these, the fragments of a work begun under the 
 title of " Ten Years of Exile." 
 
 While, then, we commemorate admiringly the many excellent 
 
 qualities of the heart which disting-uished Madame de Stael, and 
 
 40* 
 
474 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 
 
 class her with the most powerful intelligences and eloquent 
 writers of the age, we find her far less respectable, as she must 
 have found herself, with all her celebrity, and far less happy, for 
 want of delicacy of conduct, than the Mores, the Edgeworths, and 
 the Hamiltons of Britain, whose lives and writings conspire to 
 strengthen the sacred delicacy of the sex, and to teach the true 
 ends of female ambition. 
 
 Thona, a Moorish Spaniard, who is called the Habeba of Va- 
 lencia, was skilled in grammar, and jurisprudence, and wrote 
 celebrated books on both subjects, which were of high authority 
 in her day, and long afterwards. It was during the state of 
 Moorish power, three centuries and a half before the conquest 
 of Grenada, when the Moors were revelling in all the Arabian 
 literature which had come to them from the days of Haroun al 
 Raschid, who lived two centuries before her. Thona died in the 
 year 1 127. The prejudice of the Christians was so great against 
 the Moors, that it is wonderful that any thing of taste or talent 
 should have been suffered to have come down to this time, through 
 the cells of the inquisition. Still it should be remembered that in 
 Spain, in former days, some bold and admirable doctrines, even 
 of liberty, have been entertained and divulged. 
 
 TuLLiA OF ARRAGdN, a Neapolitan lady, celebrated for her 
 erudition, understanding, and poetical talents, was born at Na- 
 ples, and flourished about the year 1550. She was carried to 
 Rome in her infancy, and brought up in that city with the great- 
 est care. When very young, the study of polite literature, and 
 the exercise of that happy talent for poetry which she possessed, 
 formed her highest enjoyment. She soon became known, and 
 was early classed with the most illustrious of the learned. She 
 afterwards passed several years at Venice, w^here her society 
 was much courted by all people of merit or science. She wrote 
 many miscellaneou's poems, which appeared at first scattered in 
 sex^eral different collections, but were collected and published at 
 Venice in 1547. They bear marks of genius, and a sprightly 
 imagination, and are much praised for purity of style. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 475 
 
 Maria Van Ness, wife of the Honorable John Van Ness, of 
 the city of Washington, was the daughter of Mr. Burns, an ori- 
 ginal proprietor of the glebe of that city, with one or two others. 
 His daughter Maria was born there, then a part of the state of 
 Marj'-land, on the ninth of May, 1782. She was well educated 
 for those times. She saw the surveyor first run his lines for 
 the federal city, and mark out the first public street. In 1802 
 she was married to John Van Ness, then a member of Congress 
 from some part of the state of New- York. On his marriage to 
 Miss Burns, he declined another election from his district, and 
 took up his residence in the city of Washington. Mrs. Van 
 Ness was a well educated woman, of a pious and charitable cast. 
 She had but one child, a daughter, who lived to be married to 
 Mr. Middleton,% young gentleman of South Carolina, but she 
 died in less than a year after her bridal day, and lies buried in 
 a vault made on the site of the old family burial-ground of her 
 maternal ancestors, over which Mr. Van Ness erected an elegant 
 monument after the model of the temple of the winds at Athens, 
 the first monument of the kind in the United States. In that 
 same place of re.st Mrs. Van Ness now reposes. This is men- 
 tioned to explain the reason that the citizens of Washington did 
 not vote her a monument in their gratitude for her charitable 
 deeds, when they met, after her decease, to honor her memory. 
 
 Mrs. Van Ness was a leader in forming all the charitable 
 institutions of Washington, in which ladies take the burden upon 
 themselves. A society was incorporated for establishing a 
 female orphan asylum, and she gave them a suitable parcel of 
 land for the purpose of building an edifice convenient for such 
 a design. This institution is in a flourishing condition. She 
 was not only active in this, but in all those plans which charity 
 demands of justice and of wealth in this world. She only con- 
 sidered herself a steward of her property for the benefit of the 
 needy. She was a woman of good sound sense, of lady-like 
 manners, and of great energy of character, and was respected 
 and honored by all classes of people in the city of Washington. 
 She was mild, charitable, and forgiving, but firm in her princi- 
 ples and inflexible in her purposes. Neither the entreaties of 
 
476 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 friends, ever so near and dear to her, or the intimations of official 
 authority, or the strong ties of party, could influence her to 
 yield to do that which her conscience forbid. She saw company 
 with cheerfulness, for it was the wish of her husband that she 
 should mingle in some measure with the world, but she pre- 
 ferred to be engaged in errands of charity, to visits of pleasure. 
 She was in high esteem with all the religious sects of the city, 
 and but few knew to which she belonged without special enquiry. 
 All spoke of her as of a mother in Israel, without enquiring to 
 which tribe she belonged. There is much to be done in old 
 cities where charitable institutions have been long established, 
 but in a new one, the field is unoccupied, and new altars are to 
 be reared, new lamps to be placed on the shrines of charity, and 
 to be kept trimmed and burning. 
 
 Mrs. Van Ness died on the ninth of September, 1832, and the 
 announcement of her decease cast a gloom over the whole city. 
 The citizens without distinction of political party or religious 
 creeds, had a meeting to express their grief at her departure 
 from her labors of charity and piety, and to fix on some method 
 of bearing testimony to her worth. The citizens voted to pro- 
 cure a plate to be put on her coffin, with an inscription, detailing 
 her virtues and expressing their gratitude. This was done, and 
 the whole city may be said to have attended her funeral. 
 
 This is the first instance on record in the United States, in 
 which a city or a town were called together to devise funeral 
 honors to a female. Julius Cesar delivered a funeral oration 
 over his departed wife Livia, and this act is remembered when 
 a hundred of his orations have been forgotten. In our times, 
 grave divines have preached a sermon on the death of some dis- 
 tinguished woman in their congregation, and it is from these 
 productions that we gather most of our scanty materials for the 
 female biography of this country. Sometimes the preachers 
 have felt deeply, and have spoken enthusiastically, but seldom 
 have exaggerated any thing. In general, these productions are 
 rather solemn appeals to the living, to be ready for death, than 
 fair analyses of the character of the dead. The writers of a 
 former age, from some strange reason, hardly to be accounted 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 477 
 
 for at the present day, were unskilled in writing eulogies or 
 epitaphs, to the departed worth of the females of our country. 
 
 Mary Wolstoncraft, the wife of Major Wolstoncraft, of 
 the United States army, was the daughter of a New England 
 clergyman. ~She was the second wife of the major, he having 
 been divorced from the first. They lived together in New-Or- 
 leans several years before the major's death ; and Mary, among 
 other duties, was devoted to the education of a daughter of his, 
 by his first wife. Mrs. Wolstoncraft was a woman of most ex- 
 alted genius. She was engaged in every charitable work in 
 New Orleans, while her husband was living, for he was thought 
 to be a man of great wealth, but which was in a good degree 
 lost by his death ; for when a speculator of many concerns dies 
 suddenly, the thousand things which drop from his hands, are 
 with difficulty gathered up by any one, however sagacious ; but 
 bad as it was, she realized something, and left that region for 
 the east of the United States. Here, after a while, she found 
 the winters too severe for a constitution so long accustomed to 
 warmer suns, and she made purchase of estates, and took up her 
 residence in the island of Cuba. While there, hex active mind 
 w^as not only engaged in agriculture, but in botany and natural 
 history. She wrote a series of letters upon Cuba, evincing more 
 knowledge of the soil, climate, productions, manners and cus- 
 toms of the inhabitants, than any other one who has written on 
 the subject. Several of them were shown to the late intelligent 
 William Shaler, consul to Havana, and he pronounced them 
 admirable. While residing there, she pursued her favorite 
 study, botany, and made drawings of many of the plants of that 
 island, colored from nature; and also some specimens of orni- 
 thology, zoology, and icthyology, were exhibited by her to the 
 writer of this notice, and he has no hesitation in avowing that 
 they were superior in drawing to any that he has ever seen, 
 and but few things of this nature have escaped his observation. 
 The descriptions given of every drawing, in every branch, was 
 accurate and felicitous. This work was in her life time exhibit- 
 ed to many, but was never published, as the undertaking would 
 
478 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 have greatly exceeded the spirit of the times ; since then, Wilson, 
 Bonaparte, and Audehorn have effected much in the way of 
 natural history, and others in botany. Mrs. Wolstoncraft held 
 a most vigorous pen, as the letters from Cuba, and the article on 
 the " Rights of Women," published in the Boston Monthly Mag- 
 azine, in 1825, will fully show. She had no sympathy in the 
 religious sentiments of Mary Wolstoncraft, the wife of Godwin^ 
 her husband's sister, but she wrote on the rights of women, 
 with quite as much force, and more justice. Seldom have we 
 read an article of more pith and point than the one we allude to 
 from her pen. 
 
 In conversation she was fluent, original, and fascinating. She 
 was many years laboring under the evils of a slow consumption, 
 hut she never lost her cheerfulness, only regretting that she must 
 leave this world before she could do some good in raising the 
 condition of her sex in the mental world. She indulged in severe 
 remarks upon the course of female education, as she had seen 
 it; where years of great expense had been wasted upon showy 
 accomplishments, taught by pretenders, to show off a pretty 
 girl, and which, when the day of exhibition had passed, were 
 good for nothing. The United States furnished her with a suffi- 
 cient number of facts to support her positions, as to the insuffi- 
 ciency of the education of young females, and ten thousand 
 fathers could assist her in making out the expenses of such 
 shallow educations. The progress of reformation is slow, but 
 seems to be sure. Much has been done since she wrote, towards 
 reforming this absurdity, but much remains to be done by those 
 who are now on the stage. Most are too ignorant, many are too 
 busy, and some too idle, to set about this great work of reform- 
 ing female education. Mrs. Wolstoncraft died a few years since, 
 in Cuba, but not so soon as she anticipated, by two or three years. 
 Her portfolio must have been rich in miscellaneous matter, for 
 but few subjects passed her powerful mind without some discus- 
 sion, and she threw a beam of light on every thing she had 
 under contemplation. She wrote poetry as well as prose, and 
 was happy in her muse, but on this branch of literature she did 
 not feel it her duty to bestow much attention, as she was bent on 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 479 
 
 enlightening the female mind, and she thought that this should 
 be done in the most direct and plain language. If she wore a 
 blue stocking, she maintained her right to do so, and did it in so 
 masterly a manner, that it would have required no ordinary 
 nerve to have disputed it. It is to be hoped that some one will 
 do this great woman justice. 
 
 Mercy Warren, the wife of James Warren, a distinguished 
 statesman and patriot, who flourished before, and during the revo- 
 lutionary conflict, was born at Barnstable, in the old colony of 
 Plymouth, in 1727. She was the daughter of colonel James 
 Otis, of Barnstable, and sister to James Otis, the great leader of 
 the revolution in Massachusetts. Mrs. Warren had fine talents, 
 highly cultivated. Her brother, the great patriot, two years older 
 than herself, was an excellent scholar, and directed and assisted 
 his sister in her studies. Mrs. Warren had an active, as well as 
 a powerful mind, and took a part in the politics of the day. She 
 kept a correspondence with some of the active statesmen of the 
 times, and of course was well informed in all that was going on 
 in this country, and in England. She wrote several satirical 
 pieces, poetical and dramatic, which it is said, by those who lived 
 at that time, had a good effect in keeping down tory influence. 
 The bold and daring Brigadier Ruggles, severely felt the force 
 of her lash. It is said she intended to designate him by one of the 
 characters in the "Group," an irregular dramatic piece, contain- 
 ing much satire even now, when some of the peculiar incidents 
 are lost. Mrs. Warren wrote also two tragedies, of five acts each, 
 and of common length. The first is, the " Sack of Rome," and 
 the other, " The ladies of Castile." These dramas were written 
 during the war, and published before the close of it, as early as 
 1778. These productions are full of patriotic feeling and heroic 
 sentiments. The writer was master of rythm, and her lines can 
 be scanned ; a century hence they will be sought for, and read 
 with enthusiasm. They are preserved in a volume with other 
 poems, which were printed in her life time. It is not easy, at the 
 present time, for us to believe all that has been said of the efl^ects 
 of her writings, but the tradition is too well authenticated to leave 
 
480 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 a doubt of it on our minds. She also wrote the history of the 
 revolutionary war, which she published in three volumes, in 
 1805, more than twenty-two years after the close of the scenes 
 she narrates. This is an excellent work of its kind, rather 
 combined with a free spirit of democracy. In her delineations of 
 character, she was a little too suspicious of aristocratic feelings. 
 In drawing the portrait of John Adams, she exhibited him as in- 
 clining to aristocratic principles, which produced a sharp corres- 
 pondence between the statesman and historian, but which was 
 amicably settled, and notes of courtesy passed betv/een them. 
 She held a free pen, and the great defender of independence was 
 not remarkable for the virtue of the man of Uz. This history 
 shows great research and sound judgment. 
 
 It is seldom that women have written of battles with any suc- 
 cess, even in fiction. Miss Porter is perhaps an exception, and 
 certainly Mrs. Warren shows that she had some idea of a fight. 
 In the American female historian's works, there is one remark- 
 able feature, that is, she is careful in detailing circumstances, and 
 indulges in no fears in defeat, and no rhapsodies in victory. 
 Mrs. Warren was in advance of the age as a female writer. 
 Neither Hannah More, Miss Edgeworth, Baillie, or any of that 
 bright coterie of fair ones, who have come forward of late years, 
 were in her time known to the reading public ; and it was settled 
 almost as common law, that women were not to presume to teach 
 the reading world, particularly in the graver matters of history 
 and politics. Mrs. Warren made herself unpopular in taking a 
 part against the adoption of the constitution. She supplied the 
 opposition in the convention of Massachusetts, of 1777, with all 
 their arguments ; but they could not deliver them with her 
 eloquence, and they failed. Mrs. Warren's life was protracted 
 to a great age. She died in the autumn of 1814, aged eighty- 
 seven, having possessed as good a share of intellect, as much 
 information, and more influence, arising from mental superiority, 
 than falls to the lot of more than one woman in one age. Her 
 descendants are numerous and respectable ; and some one of 
 them should give us a biography of their ancestor, with a col- 
 lection of her letters. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 481 
 
 Mary White, was the daug-hter of Dr. Wilder, a physician 
 of celebrity, in Concord, in the state of Massachusetts. She was 
 born in 1781, at that place, and was a favorite from the cradle; 
 a child of lovely manners and docile temper. Her education 
 was carefully attended to, but no task was ever crowded on her, 
 for she was constantly in advance of her associates. With a 
 form that might have represented the delicate Ariel, she had a 
 mind that threw a powerful spell over every acquaintance. She 
 was not only well read in English and French literature, but 
 accomplished in the tasteful arts. She had many admirers, but 
 gave her hand to a French gentleman, of chivalrous spirit and 
 fascinating manners. He had suffered deeply in the troubles in 
 the West Indies, and was an invalid, seeking health in this 
 country, when he first saw Miss Wilder, and at once became 
 enamoured with her, and continued his assiduities until she 
 consented to become his wife. Their uaion was delayed for 
 some time, in hopes that he might recover his lost health ; but 
 in a measure despairing of this in our climate, he insisted on 
 being married, and again trying his own warm climate. In 
 1801, they were married, and sailed for the West Indies. Here 
 they found the government in an imsettled state, and they lived, 
 the little time that was granted them to live together, amid con- 
 fusion and massacre. In a short time she was called upon to 
 close the eyes of her husband ; one most devotedly attached to 
 her ; and to pay him the rites of sepulture, in a land of stran- 
 gers to her and her brother, who accompanied her. She at 
 once made an effort to reach her native land, and to leave the 
 new friends she had acquired. 
 
 On her return, she revived from her sufferings, and once 
 more entered the social circle to enchant her friends as before. 
 If her smiles at times had a melancholy cast, she never expa- 
 tiated on her sufferings ; these were kept in her own bosom ; 
 she wished not to give others a pang by the slightest allusion to 
 them. 
 
 She lived a widow for several years, when she married Judge 
 White, then a distinguished counsellor at law, in Newburyport, 
 in the same state. He was a man of fine classical taste, ot 
 
 41 
 
482 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 extensive acquirements, and of exemplary morals. She lived 
 happily with him until the close of the year 1810, when she 
 expired. Her frame was too feeble long to sustain her powers 
 of mind, and she changed worlds without a sigh ; leaving a 
 husband and two daughters to mourn her loss. 
 
 Mrs. White seldom entered the fashicmable world, but had 
 around her many persons of both sexes, of the first education. 
 It was a treat to hear her talk ; so gentle, so free, so guileless, 
 so pure, and without exaggeration, one might say, so holy was 
 her conversation, that the lapse of time was not observed in her 
 company, and the first intimation her visitors had of the pro- 
 priety of taking their leave, was from indications, although she 
 struggled to conceal them, that she was quite exhausted. 
 
 At her death, the whole town seemed to feel as though some 
 general calamity had befallen them, and mourned her most sin- 
 cerely. Among other tributes to her memory, was one pub- 
 lished in the January number of the Port Folio, 1811. It was 
 from the pen of one of her friends, who admired her talents and 
 reverenced her virtues. It was warm from the heart, and more 
 than he has said was believed by him. He was a man of letters 
 and of taste, and a judge of them in others. He has since paid 
 the debt of nature. Stephen Hooper had but few equals in the 
 walks of literature. Our limits, as we draw towards the close of 
 our labors, forbid the insertion of this elegant tribute to female 
 worth. 
 
 Martha Washington, wife of General George Washington, 
 was born in Virginia, in the same year with her husband, 1732, 
 according to Weems ; and probably he knew as well as any of 
 Washington's biographers. She was the widow Custis when 
 she married Col. Washington, in 1758. She is mentioned by 
 Ramsay, Marshall, Bancroft, and Weems, as wealthy and beau- 
 tiful, one to whom Washington had been long attached; but 
 neither of them give her maiden name ; and all but Weems for- 
 got to mention the time of her birth. But we believe that her 
 maiden name was Dandridge. She was known, to those who 
 visited Mount Vernon, as a woman of domestic habits and kind 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 483 
 
 feelings, before her husband had gained more than the distinction 
 of a good soldier and gentlemanly planter, with whom one might 
 deal with safety, and be sure of getting fair articles at a fair price. 
 After Washington was appointed to command the American 
 armies, and had repaired to Cambridge to take the duties upon 
 himself, Mrs. Washington made a visit to the eastern states, and 
 spent a short time with her husband in the camp at Cambridge. 
 The quarters were exceL^nt, for the Vassals and other wealthy 
 tories had deserted their elegant mansions at Cambridge, which 
 were occupied by the American officers. After this visit Mrs. 
 Washington was seldom with her husband, until the close of the 
 war. She met him at Annapolis, in Maryland, when he resigned 
 his commission, at the close of the year 1783. It is not remem- 
 bered that she came to New York with the president, when the 
 federal government was organized, in 1789; but was at Phila- 
 delphia during the first session after its removal to that city. A 
 military man like Washington could not suffer even the cour- 
 tesies of social intercourse to move on without a strict regard to 
 economical regulations. These were displayed with good man- 
 ners and taste. Mrs. Washington, in her drawing-room, was 
 of course obliged to exact courtesies which she thought belonged 
 to the officer, rather than those which were congenial to herself 
 The levees in Washington's administration were certainly more 
 courtly than have been known since. Full dress was required 
 of all who had a right to be there, but since that time, any dress 
 has bepn accepted as proper, which a gentleman chose to wear. 
 At table, Mrs. Washington seldom conversed upon politics ; but 
 attended strictly to the duties of the hostess. Foreign ambassa- 
 dors often attempted to draw her into a conversation upon public 
 affairs, but she always avoided the subject with great propriety 
 and good sense. 
 
 It was not in the saloons of Philadelphia, when heartless thou- 
 sands were around her, that Mrs. Washington shone the most 
 conspicuous. It was at her plain mansion-house, at Mount Ver- 
 non, that she was most truly great. There she appeared, 
 with her keys at her side, and gave directions for every thing, 
 so that, without any bustle or confusion, the most splendid dinner 
 
484 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 appeared as if there had been no effort in the whole affair. She 
 met her guests with the most hospitable feelings, and they always 
 departed from the place with regret. Her first husband, John 
 Custis, died young, and her son died still younger, leaving two 
 children, a son and a daughter. A great part of her time was 
 absorbed in assisting in the education of these children. They 
 weve the favorites of Mount Vernon. The place was one of 
 general resort for all travelers ; and every one, from every 
 nation, who visited this country, thought that his American tour 
 could not be finished unless he had been at Mount Vernon, and 
 had seen the Washington family, and partaken of the cakes of 
 the domestic hearth. Of course, no eastern caravansary was 
 ever more crowded than the mansion-house at Mount Vernon, in 
 the summer months. Washington died in less than three years 
 after his retirement from office. He was as great, if not a greater, 
 object of curiosity in retirement, than in public life; for it 
 was almost miraculous to a foreigner, to see the head of a great 
 nation calmly resigning power and office, and retiring to a rural 
 residence to employ himself in agricultural pursuits. Seeing 
 was to them the only method of believing ; and they would see. 
 Mrs. Washington did not long survive her husband; in eighteen 
 months she followed him to his ^grave. She was an excellent 
 parent, a good wife, an important member of society, and passed 
 a long life without an enemy. It is to be regretted that an ample 
 memoir of this excellent woman has not been written ; but we 
 must content ourselves at present with a scanty notice. The few 
 letters, that have been published, that came from her, show that 
 she wrote with good taste and in a pleasant style. Her ashes 
 repose in the same vault with those of her august husband, a 
 family tomb, built within the pale of the pleasure grounds around 
 the house, at Mount Vernon. 
 
 Susanna Wright. The following tribute of respect, was 
 offered, more than eighteen years ago, by one grave matron to 
 the memory of another, much her senior. The writer has long 
 since paid the debt of nature, and received " the generous tear 
 she gave." In this sketch there is no parade of learning, no 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 485 
 
 careful arrangement of facts, but a plain, straight forward notice 
 of her friend. Such memorials are invaluable; they carry, in. 
 themselves, the evidence of their justness, they are the true 
 elements of biography and history, and grow fresher by the 
 lapse of time. 
 
 " As it has always appeared to me a duty, which the living 
 owe to each other, as well as to the dead, to rescue merit from 
 descending into immediate oblivion, I have endeavored to trace 
 the following notices of a lady, who, though she was well 
 known, and generally esteemed, by the most eminent characters 
 in the state of Pennsylvania, whilst she lived, yet nothing, I 
 believe, respecting her, has ever appeared in print. What 
 I now mean to offer is from recollection alone ; but my oppor- 
 tunities for information were such, as to enable me to give those 
 recollections with certainty. 
 
 " Susanna Wright was the daughter of John Wright, Esq., a 
 very intelligent and upright man, and one of the first settlers in 
 Lancaster county ; she came over with her parents from War- 
 rington, in Great Britain, in 1714, being then about seventeen. 
 She had received a good education, and having an excellent 
 understanding, she assiduously cultivated her fine talents, not- 
 withstanding the disadvantages of her situation. Her parents 
 first settled at Chester, but a short time afterwards removed to 
 the banks of the Susquehannah, then a most remote frontier 
 settlement, in the midst of Indians, subject to all the inconveni- 
 ences, labors, privations, and dangers, of an infant establishment. 
 Here she exerted herself continually for the good of her family 
 and the benefit of her neighbors; nor did she ever quit this 
 retirement, for the more improved society of Philadelphia, but 
 twice, when the danger of their situation, from an Indian war, 
 rendered this removal necessary for their safety. She never 
 married ; but after the death of her father, became the head of 
 her own family, who looked up to her for advice and direction 
 as to a parent ; for her heart was replete with every kind affection, 
 and with all the social virtues. She was well acquainted with 
 books, had an excellent memory, as well as a most clear and 
 
 comprehensive judgment ; she spoke and wrote the French 
 
 41* 
 
486 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 language with great ease and fluency ; she had also a knowledge 
 of Latin, and of Italian, and had made considerable attainments 
 in many of the sciences. Her letters, written to her friends, 
 were deservedly esteemed for their ingenuity. She corresponded 
 with James Logan, Isaac Norris, and many other celebrated 
 characters of that period ; and so great was the esteem in which 
 she was held by her neighbors, for integrity and judgment, that 
 disputes of considerable interest were frequently left to her sole 
 arbitration, by the parties concerned. Her advice was often 
 desired on occasions of importance, respecting the settlement of 
 estates, and she was often resorted to as a physician by her 
 neighborhood. The care and management of a large family, 
 and of a profitable establishment, frequently devolved entirely 
 upon her ; and she appeared to be so constantly occupied with 
 the employments usual to her sex and station, that it was sur- 
 prising how she found time for that acquaintance with polite 
 literature, which her conversation displayed, when she met with 
 persons capable of appreciating it. 
 
 " She took great deiight in domestic manufacture, and had 
 constantly much of it produced in her family. For many years 
 she attended to the rearing of silk worms, and with the silk 
 which she reeled and prepared herself, made many articles both 
 of beauty and utility, dying the silk of various colors, with 
 indigenious materials. She had at one time upwards of sixty 
 yards of excellent mantua returned to her from Great Britain, 
 where she had sent the raw silk to be manufactured. She some- 
 times amused herself with her pencil, and with little works of 
 fancy ; but it was in the productions of her pen that she most 
 excelled. They were deservedly admired whilst she lived, and 
 would abundantly satisfy the world of her merit, could they now 
 be produced ; but as she wrote not for fame, she never kept 
 copies, and it is to be feared but little is at this time recoverable. 
 She appears to have been without vanity, and above affectation. 
 
 "I had the pleasure, when very young, of seeing her, and can 
 remember something of the vivacity and spirit of her conversa- 
 tion, which I have since heard some of the best judges of such 
 merit affirm they had seldom known to be equalled. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 487 
 
 " She lived to be upwards of eighty, preserving her senses and 
 faculties. She had been educated in the religious society of 
 Friends, and often in her latter years professed, that she saw the 
 vanity of all attainments that had not for their object the glory 
 of God, and the good of mankind. She died a most humble, 
 pious, sincere Christian. 
 
 " In her person she was small, and had never been handsome, 
 but had a penetrating, sensible countenance, and was truly polite 
 and courteous in her address and behavior. Her brother, James 
 Wright, was for many years a representative for Lancaster 
 county, in the assembly of Pennsylvania, and was deservedly 
 esteemed by his fellow citizens. His descendants still possess 
 the estate where his ancestors settled, upon which they have 
 recently founded the flourishing town of Columbia." 
 
 Mary Washington, the mother of the patriot and soldier, 
 George Washington, has, until lately, been but little known to 
 the great mass of the American people. The public are indebted 
 to George W. P. Custis, Esquire, grand-son of Mrs. Washing- 
 ton, the wife of General George Washington, of Virginia, for this 
 sketch. Mr. Custis certainly had the best opportunities of any 
 one to become acquainted with the merits of this rare woman. 
 
 " Mrs. Washington was descended from the very respectable 
 family of Ball, who settled as English colonists, on the banks 
 of the Potomac. Bred in those domestic and independent habits, 
 which graced the Virginia matrons in the old days of Vkginia, 
 this lady, by the death of her husband, became involved in the 
 cares of a young family, at a period, when those cares seem 
 more especially to claim the aid and control of the stronger sex. 
 It was left for this eminent woman, by a method the most rare, 
 by an education and discipline the most peculiar and imposing, 
 to form in the youth-time of her son, those great and essential 
 qualities, which gave lustre to the glories of his after life. If 
 the school savored the more of the Spartan than the Persian 
 character, it was a fitter school to form a hero, destined to be the 
 ornament of the age in which he flourished, and a standard of 
 excellence for ages yet to come. 
 
488 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " It was remarked by the ancients, that the mother always 
 gave the tone to the character of the child ; and we may be per- 
 mitted to say, that since the days of old renown, a mother has 
 not lived better fitted to give the tone and character of real great- 
 ness to her child, than she whose remarkable life and actions this 
 reminiscence will endeavor to illustrate. 
 
 " At the time of his father's death, George Washington was 
 only twelve years of age. He has been heard to say, that he 
 knew little of his father, except the remembrance of his person, 
 and of his parental fondness. To his mother's forming care he 
 himself ascribed the origin of his fortunes and his fame. 
 
 " The home of Mrs. Washington, of which she was always 
 mistress, was a pattern of order. There the levity and indul- 
 gence common to youth was tempered by a deference and well 
 regulated restraint, which, while it neither suppressed nor con- 
 demned any rational enjoyment usual in the spring-time of life, 
 prescribed those enjoyments within the bonnds of moderation 
 and propriety. Thus the chief was taught the duty of obedience, 
 which prepared him to command. Still the mother held in re- 
 serve an authority which never departed from her, not when her 
 son had become the most illustrious of men. It seemed to say, 
 ' I am your mother, the being who gave you life, the guide who 
 directed your steps when they needed a guardian ; my maternal 
 affection drew forth jj-our love ; my authority constrained your 
 spirit ; whatever may be your success or your renown, next to 
 your God, your reverence is due to me.' Nor did the chief dis- 
 sent from these truths ; but to the last moments of his venerable 
 parent, yielded to her will the most dutiful and implicit obedience, 
 and felt for her person and character the highest respect, and the 
 most enthusiastic attachment. The late Laurence Washington, 
 Esq., of Chotank, one of the associates of the jilvenile years of 
 the chief, and remembered by him in his will, thus describes the 
 home of the mother : 
 
 '"I was often there with George, his playmate, schoolmate, and 
 young man's companion. Of the mother I was ten times more 
 afraid than I ever was of my own parents ; she awed me in the 
 midst of her kindness, for she was indeed truly kind. And even 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 489 
 
 now, when time has whitened my locks, and I am the grand- 
 parent of a second generation, I could not behold that majestic 
 woman without feelings it is impossible to describe. Whoever 
 has seen that awe-inspiring air and manner, so characteristic in 
 the father of his country, will remember the matron as she ap- 
 peared, when the presiding genius of her well-ordered house- 
 hold, commanding and being obeyed.' 
 
 " Such were the domestic influences under which the mind 
 of Washington was formed ; and that he not only profited by, 
 but fully appreciated their excellence and the character of his 
 mother, his behavior towards her at all times testified. Upon 
 his appointment to the command in chief of the American ar- 
 mies, previously to his joining the forces at Cambridge, he re- 
 moved his mother from her country residence to the village of 
 Fredericksburg, a situation remote from danger, and contiguous 
 to her friends and relatives. 
 
 "It was there the matron remained, during nearly the whole 
 of the trying period of the revolution. Directly in the way of 
 the news, as it passed from north to south ; one courier would 
 bring intelligence of success to our arms, another, ' swiftly 
 coursing at his heels,' the saddening reverse of disaster and 
 defeat. While thus ebbed and flowed the fortunes of our cause, 
 the mother, trusting to the wisdom and protection of divine 
 providence, preserved the even tenor of her life ; affording an 
 example to those matrons whose sons were alike engaged in the 
 arduous contest ; and showing that unavailing anxieties, however 
 belonging to nature, were unworthy of mothers, whose sons were 
 combating for the inestimable rights of man and the freedom and 
 happiness of the world. 
 
 " When the comforting and glorious intelligence arrived, of 
 the passage of the Delaware, (December, '76,) an event which 
 restored our hopes from the very brink of despair, a number of 
 her friends waited upon the mother, with congratulations. She 
 received them with calmness ; observed that it was most plea- 
 surable news, and that George appeared to ha^^e deserved well 
 of his country for such signal services. And continued, in reply 
 to the gratulating patriots, (most of whom held letters in their 
 
490 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 hands, from which they read extracts,) ' But, my good sirs, here 
 is to much flattery — still George will not forget the lessons 1 
 early taught him — he will not forget himself, though he is the 
 subject of so much praise.' 
 
 " Here let me remark upon the absurdity of an idea which, 
 from some strange cause or other, has been suggested, though 
 certainly never believed, that the mother was disposed to favor 
 the royal cause. Such a surmise has not the slightest foundation 
 in truth. Like many others, whose days of enthusiasm were in 
 the wane, the lady doubted the prospects of success in the begin- 
 ning of the war ; and long during its continuance feared that our 
 means would be found inadequate to a successful contest with so 
 formidable a power as Britain ; and our soldiers, brave, but un- 
 disciplined, and ill provided, be unequal to cope with the veteran 
 arid well appointed troops of the king. Doubts like these were 
 by no means confined to a female ; but were both entertained 
 and expressed by the stanchest of patriots, and most determined 
 of men. But when the mother, who had been removed to the 
 county of Frederick, on the invasion of Virginia, in 1781, was in- 
 formed, by express, of the surrender of Cornvvallis, she raised her 
 hands to heaven, and exclaimed, ' Thank God, war will now be 
 ended, and peace, independence, and happiness bless our country.' 
 
 " During the war, and indeed, during her useful life, up to the 
 advanced age of eighty -two, until within three years of her death, 
 (when an afflictive disease prevented exertion,) the mother set a 
 most valuable example, in the management of her domestic con- 
 cerns, carrying her own keys, bustling in her household affairs, 
 providing for her family, and living and moving in all the pride 
 of independence. She was not actuated by that ambition for 
 show which pervades lesser minds ; and the peculiar plainness 
 and dignity of her manners became in no wise altered, when the 
 sun of glory arose upon her house. There are some of the aged 
 inhabitants of Fredericksburg, who well remember the matron, 
 as seated in an old-fashioned open chaise, she was in the habit 
 of visiting, almost daily, her little farm in the vicinity of the town. 
 When there, she would ride about her fields, giving her orders, 
 and seeing that they Vv^ere obeyed. 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 491 
 
 " Her great industry, with the well regulated economy of all 
 her concerns, enabled the matron to dispense considerable chari- 
 ties to the poor, although her own circumstances were always 
 far from rich. All manner of domestic economies, so useful in 
 those times of privation and trouble, met her zealous attention ; 
 while every thing about her household bore marks of her care 
 and management, and very many things the impress of her own 
 hands. In a very humble dwelling, and suffering under an ex- 
 cruciating disease, (cancer of the breast,) thus lived this mother 
 of the first of men, preserving unchanged, her peculiar nobleness 
 and independence of character. 
 
 " She was continually visited and solaced by her children, and 
 numerous grand-children, particularly by her daughter, Mrs. 
 Lewis. To the repeated and earnest solicitations of this lady, 
 that she would remove to her house, and pass the remainder of 
 her days, to the pressing entreaties of her son, that she would 
 make Mount Vernon the home of her age, the matron replied, 
 * I thank you for your affectionate and dutiful offers, but my wants 
 are few in this world, and I feel perfectly competent to take 
 care of myself Her son in law. Col. Fielding Lewis, proposed 
 to relieve her of the direction of her affairs; she observed, ' Do 
 you, Fielding, keep my books in order, for your eye-sight is 
 better than mine ; but leave the executive management to me.' 
 
 " One weakness alone attached to this lofty-minded and in- 
 trepid woman ; and that proceeded from a most affecting cause. 
 She was afraid of lightning. In early life she had a female 
 friend killed by her side, while sitting at table ; the knife and 
 fork, in the hands of the unfortunate girl, were melted by the 
 electric fluid. The matron never recovered from the fright and 
 shock occasioned by this distressing accident. On the approach 
 of a thunder cloud she would retire to her chamber, and not 
 leave it again till the storm had passed away. 
 
 " She was always pious, but in her latter days her devotions 
 were performed in private. She was in the habit of repairing 
 every day to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her 
 dwelling, where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, 
 she communed with her Creator, in humiliation and prayer. 
 
492 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " After an absence of nearly seven years, it was at length, on 
 the return of the combined armies from Yorktown, permitted to 
 the mother, again to see and embrace her illustrious son. So 
 soon as he had dismounted, in the midst of a numerous and 
 brilliant suite, he sent to apprise her of his arrival, and to know 
 when it would be her pleasure to receive him. And now mark 
 the force of early education and habits, and the superiority of 
 the Spartan over the Persian school, in this interview of the 
 great Washington with his admirable parent and instructor. 
 No pageantry of war proclaimed his coming, no trumpets 
 sounded, no banners waved. Alone and on foot, the marshal 
 of France, the general in chief of the combined armies of France 
 and America, the deliverer of his country, the hero of the age, 
 repaired to pay his humble duty to her whom he venerated as 
 the author of his being, the founder of his fortune and his fame. 
 For full well he knew that the matron would not be moved by 
 all the pride that glory ever gave, nor by all the ' pomp and 
 circumstance' of power. 
 
 " The lady was alone, her aged hands employed in the works 
 of domestic industry, when the good news was announced, and 
 it was further told that the victor chief was in waiting at the 
 threshold. She welcomed him with a warm embrace, and by 
 the well remembered and endearing name of his childhood ; in- 
 quiring as to his health, she remarked the lines which mighty 
 cares and many trials had made on his manly countenance, 
 spoke much of old times and old friends, but of his glory — not 
 one word ! 
 
 " Meantime, in the village of Fredericksburg, all was joy and 
 revelry ; the town was crowded with the officers of the French 
 and American armies, and with gentlemen from all the country 
 around, who hastened to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis. 
 The citizens made arrangements for a splendid ball, to which 
 the mother of Washington was specially invited. She observed, 
 that although her dancing days were pretty well over, she 
 should feel happy in contributing to the general festivity, and 
 consented to attend. 
 
 " The foreign officers were anxious to see the mother of their 1 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 493 
 
 Chief. They had heard indistinct rumors respecting her remark- 
 able life and character, but forming their judgments from Euro- 
 pean examples, they were prepared to expect in the mother that 
 glare and show, which would have been attached to the parents 
 of the great in the old world. How were they surprised, when 
 the matron, leaning on the arm of her son, entered the room ! 
 She was arrayed in the very plain, yet becoming garb worn by 
 the Virginia lady of the olden time. Her address, always digni- 
 fied and imposing, was courteous, though reserved. She received 
 the complimentary attentions, which were profusely paid her, 
 without evincing the slightest elevation, and at an early hour, 
 wishing the company much enjoyment of their pleasures, ob- 
 served that it was time for old people to be at home, retired. 
 
 " The foreign officers were amazed to behold one whom so 
 many causes contributed to elevate, persevering the even tenor 
 of her life, while such a blaze of glory shone upon her name 
 and offspring. The European world furnished no examples of 
 such magnanimity. Names of ancient lore were heard to escape 
 from their lips, and they observed, that ' if such were the ma- 
 trons of America, it was not wonderful the sons were illustrious.' 
 
 " It was on this festive occasion that General Washington 
 danced a minuet with Mrs. Willis. It closed his dancing days. 
 The minuet was much in vogue at that period, and was pecu- 
 liary calculated for the display of the splendid figure of the chief, 
 and his natural grace and elegance of air and manner. The 
 gallant Frenchmen who were present, of which fine people it 
 may be said, that dancing forms one of the elements of their 
 existence, so much admired the American performance, as to 
 admit that a Parisian education could not have improved it. As 
 the evening advanced, the commander in chief, yielding to the 
 gaiety of the scene, went down some dozen couple, in the con- 
 tra-dance, with great spirit and satisfaction. 
 
 " The Marquis de Lafayette repaired to Fredericksburg, pre- 
 vious to his departure for Europe, in \.he fall of 1784, to pay his 
 parting respects to the mother, and to ask her blessing. 
 
 " Conducted by one of her grandsons, he approached the 
 house when the young gentleman observed, ' There, sir, is my 
 
 42 
 
494 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 grandmother.' Lafayette beheld, working in the garden, clad 
 in domestic made clothes, and her gray head covered in a 
 plain straw hat, the mother of 'his hero!' The lady saluted 
 him kindly, observing — ' Ah, marquis ! you see an old woman 
 — but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling, 
 without the parade of changing my dress.' 
 
 " The marquis spoke of the happy effects of the revolution, 
 and the goodly prospect which opened upon independent Ame- 
 rica, stated his speedy departure for his native land, paid the 
 tribute of his heart, his love and admiration of her illustrious 
 son, and concluded by asking her blessing. She blessed him, 
 and to the encomiums which he had lavished upon his hero 
 and paternal chief, the matron replied in these words : ' I am 
 not surprised at Vv^hat George has done, for he was always a 
 very good boy.' 
 
 •* In her person, Mrs. Washington was of the middle size, and 
 finely formed ; her features pleasing, yet strongly marked. It 
 is not the happiness of the writer to remember her, having only 
 seen her with infant eyes. The sister of the chief he perfectly 
 well remembers. She was a most majestic woman, and so 
 strikingly like the brother, that it was a matter of frolic to throw 
 a cloak around her and place a military hat upon her head, and 
 such was the perfect resemblance, that, had she appeared on her 
 brother's steed, battalions would have presented arms, and senates 
 risen to do homage to the chief 
 
 " In her latter days, the mother often spoke of her own good 
 hoy, of the merits of his early life, of his love and dutifulness to 
 herself; but of the deliverer of his country, the chief magistrate 
 of the great republic, she never spoke. Call you this insensi- 
 bility? or want of ambition? Oh, no! her ambition had been 
 gratified to overflowing. She had taught him to be good; that 
 he became great when the opportunity presented, was a conse- 
 quence, not a cause. 
 
 " Thus lived and died this distinguished woman. Had she 
 been a Roman dame, statues would have been erected to her 
 memory in the capitol, and we should have read in classic pages 
 the story of her virtues, 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 495 
 
 " When another century shall have elapsed, and the nations 
 of the earth, as well as our descendants, shall have learned the 
 true value of liberty, the name of our hero will gather a glory 
 it has never yet been invested with ; and then will youth and 
 age, maid and matron, aged and bearded men, with pilgrim step, 
 repair to the now neglected grave of the mother of Washington." 
 
 A splendid monument has been recently erected to her me- 
 mory. On the seventh of May, 1833, the president of the 
 United States, Andrew Jackson, having been invited by the 
 Monument Committee of Virginia, chosen for this purpose, to 
 attend at the laying of the corner stone, at Fredericksburgh, the 
 place where the ashes of Mrs. Washington repose, repaired, 
 with the heads of departments, and a great concourse of people, 
 to that city, where they were courteously received. One of the 
 committee, Mr. Basset, addressed the president of the United 
 States in a splendid style, to which the president made the fol- 
 lowing elegant reply. 
 
 " Sir — to you, and to your colleagues of the Monument Com- 
 mittee, I return my acknowledgments for the kind sentiments you 
 have expressed towards me, and for the flattering terms in which 
 they have been conveyed. I cannot but feel that I am indebted to 
 your partiality, and not to any services of my own, for the warm- 
 hearted reception you have given me. On this occasion, as well as 
 many others, in the course of a life now drawing towards its close, 
 I have found the confidence and attachment of my countrymen 
 as far beyond my merits as my expectations. 
 
 " We are assembled, fellow-citizens, to witness and to assist in 
 an interesting ceremony. More than a century has passed away 
 since she, to whom this tribute of respect is about to be paid, 
 entered upon the active scenes of life. A century, fertile in 
 wonderful events, and in distinguished men, who have participa- 
 ted in them. Of these events our country has furnished her full 
 share; and of these distinguished men, she has produced a 
 Washington. If he was 'first in war, first in peace, and first 
 in the hearts of his countrymen,* we may say, without the im- 
 putation of national vanity, that, if not the first, he was in the 
 very first rank of those, too few, indeed, upon whose career 
 
496 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 mankind can look back without regret, and whose memory and 
 example will furnish themes of eulogy for the patriot, wherever 
 free institutions are honored and maintained. 
 
 " His was no false glory, deriving its lustre from the glare of 
 splendid and destructive actions, commencing in professions of 
 attachment to his country, and terminating in the subversion of 
 her freedom. Far different is the radinance which surrounds 
 his name and fame. It shines mildly and equally, and guides 
 the philanthropist and citizen in the path of duty ; and it will 
 guide them long after those false lights, which have attracted 
 too much attention, shall have been extinguished in darkness. 
 
 " In the grave before us lie the remains of his mother. Long 
 has it been unmarked by any monumental tablet, but not un- 
 honored. You have undertaken the pious duty of erecting a 
 column to her memory, and of inscribing upon it the simple, 
 but affecting words, ' Mary, the mother of Washington.' No 
 eulogy could be higher, and it appeals to the heart of every 
 American. 
 
 " These memorials of affection and gratitude are consecrated 
 by the practice of all ages and nations. They are tributes of 
 respect to the dead, but they convey practical lessons of virtue 
 and wisdom to the living. The mother and son are beyond the 
 reach of human applause ; but the bright example of parental 
 and filial excellence, which their conduct furnishes, cannot but 
 produce the most salutary effects upon our countrymen. Let 
 their example be before us, from the first lesson which is taught 
 the child, till the mother's duties yield to the course of prepa- 
 ration and action which nature prescribes for him. 
 
 •' The address which we have heard, portrays in just colors 
 this most estimable woman. Tradition says, that the character 
 of Washington was aided and strengthened, if not formed, by 
 the care and precepts of his mother. She was remarkable for 
 the vigor of her intellect and the firmness of her resolution. 
 Left in early life the sole parent of a numerous family, she 
 devoted herself, with exemplary fidelity, to the task of guiding 
 and educating them. With limited resources she was able, 
 by care and economy, to provide for them, and to ensure them 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 497 
 
 a respectable entrance upon the duties of life. A firm believer 
 in the sacred truths of religion, she taught its principles to hei 
 children, and inculcated an early obedience to its injunctions. 
 It is said, by those who knew her intimately, that she acquired, 
 and maintained a wonderful ascendancy over those around her. 
 This true characteristic of genius attended her through life, and 
 even in its decline ; after her son had led his country to indepen- 
 dence, and had been called to preside over her councils, he ap- 
 proached her with the same reverence she taught him to exhibit 
 in early youth. This course of maternal discipline, no doubt, 
 restained the natural ardor of his temperament, and conferred 
 upon him that power of self-command which was one of the 
 most remarkable traits of his character. 
 
 " In tracing the few recollections which can be gathered, of 
 her principles and conduct, it is impossible to avoid the convic- 
 tion, that these were closely interwoven with the destiny of her 
 son. The great points of his character are before the world. 
 He who runs may read them in his whole career, as a citizen, 
 a soldier, a magistrate. He possessed an unerring judgment, 
 if that term can be applied to human nature ; great probity of 
 purpose, high moral principles, perfect self-possession, untiring 
 application, an inquiring mind, seeking information from every 
 quarter, and arriving at its conclusions with a full knowledge of 
 the subject ; and he added to these an inflexibility of resolution, 
 which nothing could change but a conviction of error. Look 
 back at the life and conduct of his mother, and at her domestic 
 government, as they have this day been delineated by the chair- 
 man of the Monumental Committee, and as they were known 
 to her contemporaries, and have been described by them, and 
 they will be found admirably adapted to form and develope the 
 elements of such a character. The power of greatness was 
 there ; but had it not been guided and directed by maternal soli- 
 citude and judgment, its possessor, instead of presenting to the 
 world examples of virtue, patriotism, and wisdom, which will be 
 precious in all succeeding ages, might have added to the num- 
 ber of those master spirits, whose fame rests upon the faculties 
 
 they have abused, and the .injuries they have committed. 
 
 49* ' 
 
498 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " How important to the females of our country are these re- 
 miniscences of the early life of Washington, and of the mater- 
 nal care of her upon whom its future course depended. Prin- 
 ciples, less firm and just; an affection, less regulated by dis- 
 cretion, might have changed the character of the son, and with 
 it the destinies of the nation. We have reason to be proud of 
 the virtue and intelligence of our females. As mothers and sis- 
 ters, as wives and daughters, their duties are performed with 
 exemplary fidelity. They, no doubt, realize the great impor- 
 tance of the maternal character, and the powerful influence it 
 must exert upon the American youth, Happy is it for them 
 and our country that they have before them this illustrious ex- 
 ample of maternal devotion, and this bright reward of filial suc- 
 cess. The mother of a family, who lives to vi'itness the virtues 
 of her children and their advancement in life, and who is known 
 and honored because they are known and honored, should have 
 no other wish, on this side the grave, to gratify. The seeds of 
 virtue and vice are early sown, and we may often anticipate the 
 harvest that will be gathered. Changes, no doubt, occur, but 
 let no one place his hope upon these. Impressions made in in- 
 fancy, if not indelible, are effaced with difficulty and renewed 
 with facility ; and upon the mother, therefore, must frequently, 
 if not generally, depend the fate of the son, 
 
 " Fellow-citizens — This district of country gave birth to 
 Washington. The ancient commonwealth, within whose bor- 
 ders we are assembled from every portion of this happy and 
 flourishing Union, renowned as she is for her institutions, for 
 her devotion to the cause of freedom, and for her services and 
 sacrifices to promote it, and for the eminent men she has sent 
 forth to aid our country with heart and hand, in peace and war, 
 presents a claim still stronger than these upon the gratitude of 
 her sister states in the birth and life of Washington. Most of 
 you, my friends, must speak of him from report. It is to me a 
 source of high gratification that I can speak of him from per- 
 sonal knowledge and observation. Called, by the partiality of 
 my countryman, to the high station, once so ably filled by him, 
 and feeling, that in all but a desire to serve you, I am un 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY, 499 
 
 worthy to occupy his seat ; but, sensible that to this position I 
 owe the honor of an invitation to unite with you in this work 
 of affection and gratitude, I am unwilling the opportunity should 
 pass away without bearing my testimony to his virtues and ser- 
 vices. I do this in justice to my own feelings, being well aware 
 that his fame needs no feeble aid from me. 
 
 " The living witnesses of his public and private life will soon 
 follow him to the tomb. Already a second and a third genera- 
 tion are upon the theatre of action, and the men and the events 
 of the revolution, and of the interesting period between it 
 and the firm establishment of the present constitution, must 
 ere long live only in the pages of history. I witnessed the 
 public conduct and the private virtues of Washington, and I 
 saw and participated in the confidence which he inspired, 
 when probably the stability of our institutions depended upon 
 his personal influence. Many years have passed over me 
 since, but they have increased instead of diminishing my reve- 
 rence for his character, and my confidence in his principles. 
 May He who holds in his hands the fate of nations, impress us 
 all with the conviction of its truth and importance, and teach 
 us to regard its lessons as the precious legacy he has be- 
 queathed us. And if, in the instability of human affairs, our 
 beloved country should ever be exposed to the disasters which 
 have overwhelmed the other republics that have preceded us in 
 the world, may providence, when it suffers the hour of trial 
 to come, raise up a Washington to guide us in averting danger. 
 
 "Fellow-citizens — At your request, and in your name, I now 
 deposit this plate in the sjjot destined for it ; and when the 
 American pilgrim shall, in after ages, come up to this high 
 and holy place, and lay his hand upon this sacred column, may 
 he recall the virtues of her who sleeps beneath, and depart with 
 his affections purified and his piety strengthened, while he in- 
 vokes blessings upon the Mother of Washington." 
 
 The whole ceremony was solemn and affecting. It was a 
 late but just tribute to the memory of one, who had given to the 
 republic its noblest son. For taste, elegance, and efl^ect, this 
 monument is the finest specimen of art in the United States. It 
 
500 FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 is forty-five feet from the base to the summit. It is mounted by 
 a colossal bust of George Washington, and surmounted by the 
 American Eagle, in the attitude of dropping a civic wreath 
 upon the head of the hero. This bust bears an admirable like- 
 ness of the father of his country, as those who distinctly recollect 
 his noble form, can bear witness. The inscription is simple and 
 affecting, 
 
 MARY, 
 
 THE MOTHER OF 
 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 The poetical tribute for this ceremony, from our much loved 
 country-woman, Mrs. Sigourney, is worthy the monument, the 
 occasion, and character. 
 
 " Long hast thou slept unnoted. Nature stole, 
 In her soft ministry, around thy bed. 
 And spread her vernal coverings, violet-gemm'd, 
 And pearl'd with dews. She bade bright summer bring 
 Gifts of frankincense, with sweet song of birds, 
 And autumn cast his yellow coronet 
 Down at thy feet — and stormy winter speak 
 Hoarsely of man's neglect. But now we come 
 To do thee homage— mother of our chief! 
 Fit homage— such as honoreth him who pays. 
 
 "Methinks we see thee, as in olden time, 
 Simple in garb— majestic and serene — 
 Unaw'd by ' pomp and circumstance' — in truth 
 Inflexible— and with a Spartan zeal 
 Repressing vice, and making folly grave. 
 Tliou didst not deem it woman's part to waste 
 Life in inglorious sloth, to sport awhile 
 Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave, 
 Then fleet like the ephemeron away, 
 Building no temple in her children's hearts, 
 Save to the vanity and pride of life 
 Which she had worshipp'd. 
 
 •' Of the might that cloth'd 
 The 'Pater Patriae'— of the deeds that won 
 A nation's liberty, and earth's applause. 
 Making Mount Vernon's tomb a Mecca haunt— 
 For patriot and for sage, while time shall last 
 What part was thine, what thanks to thee are due, 
 Who mid his elements of being wrought 
 
FEMALE BIOGRAPHY. 501 
 
 With no uncertain aim— nursing the germs 
 Of godlike virtue, in his infant mind, 
 We know not — heaven can tell. 
 
 Rise, noble pile ! 
 And show a race unborn, who rests below — 
 And say to mothers, what a holy charge 
 Is theirs — with what a kingly power their love 
 Might rule the fountams of the new-born mind — 
 Warn them to wake at early dawn, and sow 
 Good seed before the world doth sow its tares, 
 Nor in their toil decline— that angel bands 
 May put the sickle in, and reap for God, 
 And gather to his garner. 
 
 Ye who stand 
 With thrilling breast and kindling cheek this morn, 
 Viewing the tribute that Virginia pays 
 To the blest mother of her glorious chief; 
 Ye, whose last thought upon your nightly couch. 
 Whose first at waking, is your cradled son — 
 What though no dazzling hope aspires to rear 
 A second Washington — or leave your name 
 Wrought out in marble, with your country's tears 
 Of deathless gratitude— yet may ye raise 
 A monument above the stars — a soul 
 Led by your teachings and your prayers to God. 
 
 With this account of the mother of the great and the brave, 
 we close this volume of female biography. The incidents in 
 her life were not numerous, nor could she be said to have edu- 
 cated her son, particularly, with a view to his being a warrior or 
 a statesman ; but she did that which was better. She filled his 
 mind with plain principles and correct opinions, and taught him 
 to cherish honorable and religious sentiments, without filling his 
 heart with pride, or his head with visions of glory. Many 
 mothers have done as much for their sons as Mary Washington 
 did for George ; but, as the world reasons, few have been so 
 successful. In the view of wisdom, however, that mother who 
 sees her children grow up healthy, virtuous, enlightened, re- 
 spected and happy, in the common walks of life, is, all things 
 considered, placed in quite as enviable a situation as she who 
 watches, with anxiety, the progress of her offspring, ascending 
 the craggy and thorny paths of fame and power. 
 
POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 In making up this work, the editor has consulted many volumes of Biogra- 
 phy, ancient and modern. In some instances, he has copied the language 
 of others, unaltered; in other cases abridged, to suit his own plan. In some 
 instances he has drawn from several sources, to sketch an individual charac- 
 ter, and united them, by reiparks of his own. The reader will perceive that 
 there are many names in this volume, that have not been previously noted by 
 any one. For these, such as they are, he is alone responsible. They have 
 been brought forward with honest intentions, and he hopes tbsy will be 
 acceptable to the American reader. Besides works containing single lives, the 
 editor has made free use of such standard books as Chalmer's Biographical 
 Dictionary, an excellent work; Bayle's learned work,^ and others of high 
 authority, such as Piatt, Gorton, Catherine Hays, Mrs. Jamieson, Miss Aikin, 
 Ooxe's Female Scripture Biography, Gibbon's Pious Women, Modern Plu- 
 tarch, Analectic Review, Port FoUo, Anthon's Lempriere, several French, 
 Italian, and Arabian writers, more particularly of those whose labors have 
 recently been conveyed to us, and many others. In many instances, he has 
 taken the advice of well educated, religious, and discreet females, in the choice 
 of subjects ; and he here makes the remark, without hesitation, that some 
 of the finest sketches of female character, he has found, have come from the 
 pens of their own sex. In preparing for the press, he has availed himself of 
 the labors of some friends, in abridging, &c., but holds himself answerable 
 for all that is found in his book. The general objects of the work, and the 
 views he entertains of the character, influence, and history of women, will 
 be seen in the introduction to this volume. 
 
 Editor. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Hannah Adams, -. - " 
 
 13 
 
 Charlotte Corde, - - - 
 
 151 
 
 Maria Cajetana Agnesi, 
 
 33 
 
 Isabella Losa de Cordova, - 
 
 - 153 
 
 Harriet Acland, ... 
 
 34 
 
 Hannah Cowley, . - - 
 
 153 
 
 Phebe Abbot, 
 
 35 
 
 Rosalba Carriera, 
 
 - 154 
 
 Isabella Andreini, . - - 
 
 38 
 
 Catherine II. - 
 
 165 
 
 Joan D'Arc, . - - - 
 
 39 
 
 Corneha, -. - - - 
 
 - 167 
 
 Jane Austen, . - . - 
 
 44 
 
 Eleanor Davis, ... 
 
 170 
 
 Joan D' Albert, ... 
 Charlotte D'Albert, - 
 
 45 
 
 Mary Dwight, - -. - 
 
 - 178 
 
 46 
 
 Hannah Duston, ... 
 
 179 
 
 Aldrude, . _ . . 
 
 46 
 
 Anne Dacier, - - - 
 
 - 181 
 
 Aria, . _ _ . . 
 
 48 
 
 Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire, 183 
 
 Agnes, . . _ - 
 Alice, . _ _ . . 
 
 48 
 
 Martha Derby, 
 
 190 
 
 48 
 
 Dorcas, .... 
 
 - 193 
 
 Aisha, - . . . - 
 
 49 
 
 Lucretia Maria Davidson, 
 
 196 
 
 Sophonisba Angesciala, - 
 
 50 
 
 Frances D'Arblay, 
 
 - 201 
 
 Lady Blanche Arundel, - 
 Abella, 
 
 50 
 
 Sarah Edwards, . . - 
 
 205 
 
 51 
 
 Elizabeth, - - - - 
 
 206 
 
 Ayesha, - - . - - 
 
 51 
 
 Elpis, .... - 
 
 207 
 
 Lady Mary Armeyne, . - - 
 
 52 
 
 Elizabeth of England, 
 
 207 
 
 Mary Astell. - - - - 
 
 52 
 
 Elizabeth Ferguson, 
 
 215 
 
 Margaret D'Attendole, 
 
 52 
 
 Catherine Fisher, 
 
 - 222 
 
 Anna the Prophetess, - 
 
 53 
 
 Elizabeth Fane, ... 
 
 223 
 
 Jeanne D'Arragon, . . - 
 
 67 
 
 Sarah Fielding, 
 
 - 223 
 
 Aspaaia, - - . - - 
 
 68 
 
 Margaretta V. Paugeres, 
 
 224 
 
 Ann AmeUa, .... 
 
 68 
 
 Moderato Fonte, 
 
 - 228 
 
 Anyta, 
 
 68 
 
 Cicilia Fleron, ... 
 
 228 
 
 Maria Melleville Allen, 
 
 69 
 
 Eliza Frothingham, • 
 
 - 228 
 
 Abassa, ..... 
 
 69 
 
 Elizabeth Gray^, ... 
 
 234 
 
 Abigail Adams, ... - 
 
 70 
 
 Isabella Graham, 
 
 - 235 
 
 Anne Bradstreet, ... 
 
 73 
 
 Grace Gethin, ... 
 
 237 
 
 Blanche of Castilp, . - - 
 
 81 
 
 Eleanora Galligai, 
 
 - 237 
 
 Blanche, .... 
 
 82 
 
 Lady Jane Gray, - - - 
 
 238 
 
 Boadicea, ..... 
 
 82 
 
 Galena, .... 
 
 - 245 
 
 Lady Ann Bacon, - - . 
 
 83 
 
 Catherine Macaulay Graham, 
 
 245 
 
 Ann Letitia Barbauld, 
 
 85 
 
 Mary Jane Grosvenor, 
 
 - 249 
 
 Laura Battiferi, ... 
 
 93 
 
 Susan Huntington, 
 
 252 
 
 Laura Maria Catherina Bassi, - 
 
 94 
 
 Hypatia, .... 
 
 - 254 
 
 
 94 
 
 Ann Hutchinson, - 
 
 255 
 
 Anne Boleyn, .... 
 
 94 
 
 Hipparchia, 
 
 - 258 
 
 Jane De Belleville, - 
 
 98 
 
 Hortensia, ... - 
 
 259 
 
 Catherine Brown, ... 
 
 98 
 
 Hecuba, - - - . 
 
 - 250 
 
 
 100 
 
 Marcia Hall, .... 
 
 260 
 
 Esther Burr, .... 
 
 102 
 
 Sarah Hull, ... 
 
 - 261 
 
 Ann Eliza Bleeker, 
 
 104 
 
 Sarah Hoffman, - - - 
 
 264 
 
 Francisca Anna Pascalis Canfield 
 
 109 
 
 Sarah Hall, 
 
 - 267 
 
 Anne Clifford, 
 
 139 
 
 St. Hilda, .... 
 
 271 
 
 Maria Maddelena F. Corrilla, - 
 
 140 
 
 Heoswitta, - - 
 
 - 271 
 
 Sulpicia, 
 
 148 
 
 Isabella of Castile, 
 
 271 
 
 Anna Commena, - 
 
 142 
 
 Esther Inglis, . . - 
 
 - 277 
 
 
 143 
 
 Ann H. Judson, - . - 
 
 278 
 
 Constance, 
 
 148 
 
 Judith, .... 
 
 - 282 
 
 
 148 
 
 Lucia Knox, - . - . 
 
 283 
 
 Corinna, 
 
 149 
 
 Maria Anna A. C. Kauffman, 
 
 - 285 
 
 Maria Cunitia, ... 
 
 149 
 
 Khaula, 
 
 286 
 
 Cappillana, 
 
 151 
 
 Laura, .... 
 
 - 287 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Margaret Lambrun, 
 Lousi'a Labbe, - - - 
 Lucretia, ... - 
 
 Janet Mc Crea, - - - 
 Elizabeth Ann Breese Morse, 
 Mary Wortley Montague, - 
 Margaret, - . . - 
 Tarquinia Molsa, 
 Julia Mosea, - - - - 
 Margaret of Denmark, 
 Matilda, . . . - 
 
 Mary Stuart, - - - 
 Mary, of Hungary, - 
 Clara Cant ariniMatraini, - 
 Judith Murray, - - . 
 Olympia Fulvia Morata, - 
 Maria Sibylla Merian, - 
 Damaris Masham, 
 Julia Mammea, - . - 
 Maria Theresa, - - - 
 Jane, Countess of Mountfort, 
 Madame de Maintenon, 
 Margaret, - - - - 
 Hannah More. - - - 
 Harriet Newell, - - - 
 Nitrocris, . . . - 
 Octavia, . - - - 
 Pbcebe Phillips, - - - 
 Falc9nia Anicia, 
 Phillip a, - . - . 
 
 Christina de Pisan, 
 
 290 
 
 291 
 292 
 298 
 301 
 303 
 310 
 311 
 311 
 312 
 313 
 313 
 324 
 325 
 325 
 327 
 328 
 329 
 330 
 330 
 342 
 344 
 347 
 351 
 366 
 367 
 367 
 374 
 377 
 377 
 377 
 
 Katherine PhiUips, - 
 Pompeia Plotina, 
 Mary Sydney, 
 Pocahontas, - . . 
 Sarah Roberts, 
 Martha Laurens Ramsay, - 
 Anne Rahan, - - - 
 Susan Rowson, - - - 
 Lady Elizabeth Russell, - 
 Renee de France, 
 Anne Radcliffe, 
 Elizabeth Rowe, 
 Madame Rowland, 
 Radhia, - . - - 
 Ruth, - - - - 
 Margaret Roper, - - - 
 Sarah Smith, - - - 
 Mary Saltonstall, 
 Sarah Louisa P. Smith, 
 Dorothy Scott, - - - 
 Mary Starbuck, 
 Anne Maria A. Schurman, 
 Madame de Stael, - 
 Thona, . - . . 
 Tullia of Arragon, - 
 Maria Van Ness, 
 Mary Wolstoncraft, 
 Mercv Warren, - 
 Martha Washington, 
 Susanna Wright, 
 Mary Washington, 
 
 378 
 380 
 
 381 
 381 
 386 
 387 
 396 
 398 
 403 
 404 
 406 
 431 
 434 
 440 
 404 
 442 
 448 
 452 
 454 
 460 
 463 
 465 
 467 
 474 
 474 
 475 
 477 
 479 
 482 
 484 
 487 
 
University of 
 Connecticut 
 
 Libraries