Memoir of Mary L. Ware, Wife of Henry Ware, Jr. Part 13

"My lieutenant seems to have been cut off in his march rather abruptly also; so I must beg you to imagine what beautiful a.s.sociations of persons or things he was about to recall, and proceed with my own plain story,--just to tell you that we were more than satisfied with our walk; it quite meets Scott's description. We trod the same path by which Bertram and Wycliffe wound their way from Barnard Castle to Mortham, and a wilder or more witching scene could scarcely be imagined. We had walked from Stockton to the Castle by the side of the Tees, sixteen miles, stopping for refreshment and rest at the little, humble inns which alone are to be found on this unfrequented route; and truly, after the parade and luxury of large hotels, it was a delightful change to see something of simple country life. You would have enjoyed it, too, notwithstanding the novelty of carrying the equipments of one's toilet in our pockets.

"At Penrith we found our letters by the May packet, and yours, dear Emma, was most welcome, not only for the news you gave me of my darling children, but for the kind feelings which dictated it, and the great entertainment it gave us. It was just such a letter as we wanted just at that time; it was the latest account, too, that we had had, for though one from Mrs.

Barnard, and another from Dr. John and William, reached us at the same time, they were of earlier date. You brought my little Robert more vividly before my eyes than any thing I have heard of him. I could see his little hand resting on Clarissa's shoulder, looking half coaxingly at you; and if the picture made me long to try if he would notice me any better, I was amply compensated for my inability to do so by the knowledge that he was doing so well, and under such kind care. At Penrith I had an attack similar to that which I had when you were at Brookline with me, which detained us a day; but, as it rained, it was not of much consequence. We had projected a drive round the lakes in a gig, and this plan we entered upon the next day (Sat.u.r.day, 11th),--just such a day as we should have asked for.

We went to Ambleside, via Ullswater and Patterdale, where we spent Sunday; heard Wordsworth's son preach, and looked at Windermere. Monday we breakfasted with Wordsworth at that lovely place, which I doubt not is still visible to your mind's eye, as we saw it that beautiful morning. It looked just as beautiful without, and as perfectly in keeping within, as we had imagined it. I confessed our theft, to the no small amus.e.m.e.nt of Mrs. Wordsworth, who did not, however, seem surprised at our feelings. Wordsworth, his wife, son, and daughter, composed the party. I wished I could have seen him again.

"_July 16._ Dear me, what a careless child! I have just discovered that I began my letter on a sheet which Mr. Ware had one quarter filled to another person; and, having no time to rewrite, I must send it piecemeal. I was going to say, that I wished I could have seen Wordsworth again, because he did not meet my expectation; and therefore I felt disappointed, in spite of all my reasoning with myself that my imagination should not be the standard in such a case. Besides, such a man could not be seen at one view; that which is most delightful in him would not be delightful if it were external.

"The ride to Keswick you will remember well. It lost nothing by being seen a second time. We were at the same inn at which we formerly stopped; and I could hear, perhaps, the same horses tramping along the same pavement over which our nags paced their way for us that memorable morning.

"We drank tea at Southey's, whose residence is much more like a poet's than it appeared at a distance, having a fine view of the lake between the trees with which it is almost enveloped. I heard him talk but little, as there was a party at the house; but was more pleased with that little than I expected to be.

His study is just the most enviable one that I ever have seen.

The next day we went upon an expedition to Crummock and b.u.t.termere, which, though fatiguing, we enjoyed highly, having a fine row upon the lake. We returned to Keswick by a road which gigs seldom pa.s.s over, the Crag through Borrowdale. It was just such an expedition as you would have enjoyed on horseback, perhaps on foot, as we took it for three of the worst miles I ever pa.s.sed over for roughness and wildness. The last part amply repaid us for our toil. We rode by the side of the Keswick lake for the whole length, just as the sun was setting, yesterday.

"_July 17._ O, what would you not give for the sight which is before me now!--'fair Melrose,' not by the 'pale moonlight,'

but by the light of as beautiful a sunset as you could ask for upon such a scene. I have not been out of the house yet, having contented myself with looking at it from my window, and am now, with all diligence, scribbling for the next Boston packet, while Mr. Ware has gone to see Mrs. Hemans, who wrote us that we should find her in this neighborhood. This is no small addition to the attractions of Melrose. I feel very much as if I were going to see an old friend, so near does sympathy with a person's writings bring one to the writer himself, in soul at least, if not in the outward expression. On our way hither from Selkirk, we pa.s.sed Abbotsford. A motley group of towers and chimneys did it appear; and it verily made me hold up my head, and feel stronger, at the thought of breathing the same atmosphere with its mighty inhabitant. We pa.s.sed Branksome also to-day, and came through Teviotdale,--cla.s.sic ground every inch of it. But it will not answer for me to run on at this rate; I shall scarcely complete one letter beside, when I wish to write fifty.

"Just at this point Henry returned from his call, with the original 'Dominie Sampson,' and the intelligence that Mrs.

Hemans would join us in our intended visit to the Abbey. The moon is just now in full-orbed splendor. Thither, therefore, we repaired; and I met Mrs. Hemans for the first time on the top of one of the towers, in such a scene as beggars all powers of description. Never were mortals more favored by the heavens and the earth for such an expedition. The air was very mild; not a sound disturbed the midnight stillness but the chirping of the ---- (I cannot remember its Scotch name; its sound is somewhat like a cricket's). There were just clouds enough to give us all the varieties of light and shade. We did enjoy it highly. And yet we almost wished we had been alone. One did not want to have the interest divided; and the Dominie's dry sayings and droll manner had such an effect upon our risibles, that we had, in spite of ourselves, a little too much of the ridiculous with the sublime. This Dominie, whose real name is Thomson, junior minister of the kirk of Melrose, is unique, not _exactly_ such as Sir Walter has described, but quite as original.

But I have come to the end of my letter, that is, my time. Love to all, at Canton, Milton, Brookline, Nahant, Roxbury, Boston,--a goodly company truly. We have just had a ride to Dryburgh Abbey, on the Tweed, a fine ruin beautifully situated.

The river here answers Scott's description better than at Berwick. There are very many lovely situations upon its banks.

But I _must_ close. With Mr. Ware's united love, and sincere wishes that you were with us, yours most affectionately,

"MARY L. WARE.

"TO MRS. LUCY ALLEN AND MRS. HARRIET HALL.

"_Geneva, October 11, 1829._

"MY DEAR GOOD SISTERS:--

"Wishing to say very much the same things to you both, and finding that the expense and trouble of transporting letters from this place across the Atlantic are _pretty considerable_, I am induced to address you both at once; hoping that the question of t.i.tle to the possession of this valuable doc.u.ment will not give rise to a more severe litigation than the lawyers of Ma.s.sachusetts will be able to settle. Your letters reached us in the course of time; yours, Lucy, while we were in London, and Harriet's just three months after its last date; both most welcome. It is a pleasure which none but a pilgrim can understand, to see the veritable handwriting of a friend when separated by such a s.p.a.ce. You say much of the pleasure we shall receive in these foreign parts from the novelty, &c. of what we may encounter. So it is; and I trust that I shall enjoy all that we should do from the privilege allowed us. But I can tell you, under the rose, that there is no pleasure in all this wide creation like that of sitting down in a quiet corner, no matter what may be around us, holding communion with _home_; and I fully believe that all travellers would tell you the same, if their pride would let them.

"We have, as you may have learned, fulfilled in part your first wish, Harriet,--we have seen Miss Edgeworth, but not Sir Walter. She is a short, rather fat, extremely homely, perhaps I might say ugly woman, without a spark of intellectual expression in her still face, and not overmuch in her most animated moments; but as full of animation, kind feeling, good sense, and intelligence, in her conversation, as one could desire; a great talker, and a very good listener; not an item of pedantry or self-sufficiency, or indeed any thing of what one would fear to find in her father's daughter, or in any woman who had been so celebrated; easy, playful, natural. We forgot it was the renowned Miss Edgeworth, and felt only that it was somebody who must be loved and admired. We found her in the old family mansion at Edgeworthstown, whither we went fifty miles only out of our way to see her; but all the awkwardness of such a lion-seeking visit was entirely taken off by the reception we met with from the whole family, and we should have felt quite at our ease to have pa.s.sed a week there. We could stay only a part of three days; that is, part of two, and the whole of the intermediate one. The only impediment to our comfort was, that, being constantly in the family circle, which is a large one, we could not talk with the lady herself upon many points which would have been most interesting. Perhaps we saw her to peculiar advantage, but we certainly do feel that she has been greatly scandalized in having the reputation of acting the pedantic auth.o.r.ess, and partaking of her father's scepticism. So much for Miss Edgeworth.

"I wish I could tell you half as much of Sir Walter from personal observation, but he was out when Henry called with his friend, Mr. Hamilton; and he is so overpowered with visitors, that we were not willing to add ourselves to the list of the curious who persecute him. We were delighted with all that we heard of him; indeed, the nearer we viewed his character, through the medium of those who knew him, the more our admiration and desire to see him increased. It would really seem that his vast intellect is his least remarkable feature.

We saw many of his familiar letters to Miss Edgeworth, and that was next best to hearing him talk, for they are just like conversation. Mrs. Hemans, too, we have seen, and Bowring a great deal, and some others of the noted of the present day; and we shall treasure the remembrance of the few, for they have been but few.

"It has been truly tantalizing to pa.s.s through Switzerland in clouds and darkness, now and then catching a glimpse of its beauties to show us what we were losing, but the far greater part of the time pa.s.sing through the very finest portions of the Alpine scenery without any visible indications that we were not in a level country. But we have proceeded thus far free from sickness, danger, or even difficulty, and have therefore too much reason to be grateful to find it possible to complain.

"We find a great deal to amuse us in the various habits and customs of the countries through which we pa.s.s, particularly since we left England; and the eating and drinking part of the business is not the least entertaining. We, however, manage to please ourselves, and our entertainers, too, pretty well. Henry eats his bread and milk as comfortably as he would at home, and I do what justice I can to the various dishes which are set before me, though, when they amount, as they have done, to twenty in number, in spite of all the 'J'ai fini's' I could utter, I have excited a smile of contempt from the waiter, who wondered at the barbarism of dining from one dish. We have not seen a carpet since we left Holland, except upon the sitting-room of an English lady here, and we have been in some handsomely furnished houses.... O this pen, ink, and paper! I will have no more to do with them, but leave them to Henry.

Your sister

MARY

"Dear girls, women, or wives: My loquacious helpmate has merely left me a place to send my love, and to say I wish I had room to write to you and your husbands. By way of supplement, I will just say of myself, that I am now able to talk while riding, without pain, which I never could do before we left England; and can also read loud a little while. This is something worth telling of. My visit to Geneva, owing to circ.u.mstances, is the least satisfactory that I have made. You will perhaps hear again from the land of the Caesars, whence I will dictate a letter full of 'ettas,' and 'inas,' and 'issimas,' and 'ulinas,' and other satin euphonisms. Meanwhile, peace be with you! Your brother

"HENRY."

We have added Mr. Ware's pleasant little postscript to the last letter, chiefly to show, by his own confession, how very feeble he must have been, and how great her anxiety and care. Indeed, she says of him at this time, "His system requires rest; it will be long before it is fit for use again." She herself was far from well, and had the depressing prospect of a more serious sickness, in a foreign land, with added cares. And yet neither of them was idle, during any period of that trial. They accomplished a great deal in various ways, and prepared one distinct work for publication. We say, _they_ did it; for Mrs. Ware seems to have joined in that labor which afterward gave us one of the most useful of Henry Ware's works. We refer to his treatise on the "Formation of the Christian Character." It is probably known that this book was written almost entirely in travelling; first in this country, during the horseback jaunt which Mr. Ware took alone through New England to Canada, in 1828, and then abroad, at various stages of this European tour. And here it was in Mrs. Ware's power to be of essential service to her husband, in a way which she explains in a letter written late in life, half jestingly taking to herself a part of the credit for the work to which we refer. To Dr. John Ware she writes, in 1844, in reference to her husband's labors in this and other ways, at the time of which we are speaking:--

"You will gather from the letters of European friends in what estimate he was held by them. That is of little import; but it shows how faithfully he preserved his ident.i.ty as a minister of the Gospel. In looking back upon the jaunt, as a whole, nothing is so prominent to my mind as the perpetual indications of his ruling pa.s.sion, if I may call it so,--his love of his profession,--the eagerness with which he sought out his ministerial brethren wherever he heard of them, stopping by the way-side to introduce himself and extend to them the hand of fellowship, often going out of the way many miles for that purpose, and making all other objects subservient to that of increasing his knowledge of men and things pertaining to the ministerial life. I _know_ his visit was a useful one to his brethren in many respects....

"You know, I believe, that the greater part of his work upon the 'Christian Character' was written on that tour. Its pages are to my memory a sort of diary of our progress, a.s.sociated as they are with the pleasant evenings, when, after our autumnal day's journey, having despatched our supper, we settled ourselves at a little table before a cheerful wood-fire in our inn, and he with his writing materials, and I with my work, or writing or reading, could almost imagine ourselves at home.

Thus were my evenings spent in alternate writing, reading, and criticism, until I almost felt as if I had written the book myself!"

The end of the year 1829 found Mr. and Mrs. Ware travelling from Rome to Naples; and on the "last night," faithful to her friendships everywhere, she began the regular "annual" to Mrs. Paine, which she did not finish till after their return to Rome, thus giving some account of their condition in both places.

"_St. Agatha,[4] December 31, 1829._

"MY DEAR NANCY:--

"This is not the first annual which you have received with a foreign date; neither can you be surprised at any aberration in my orbit. And yet methinks you will have to consider twice before you can quite realize that it is 'Pearl Street Mary Pickard,' who is writing you from this region of ancient glory and far-famed beauty. But so it is; and could you look in upon me, you would wonder, as I do, that the very peculiar changes of the eighteen years you have known me should leave me so precisely the same. I begin to think that I am made of most invulnerable materials; for here I sit--surrounded by as singular and trying circ.u.mstances as any which I have ever known--as easy and happy, I had almost said as indifferent, as if the world were jogging on with me in the tamest way imaginable. At no period of my life have I had more for which to be thankful in reviewing the year which has pa.s.sed,--that we should have travelled so far without the slightest accident, leaving our dearest interests so well provided for, finding so much kindness wherever we have been, and so many facilities for our enjoyment; and above all, that my husband, though not much better, should not have been made much worse by all the disadvantages under which he has labored of climate and weather. If I were at your elbow, how I should love to give you a detail of some of our experiences during the year. You know enough of the outlines to guess at the minutiae in many instances, and enough of us both to imagine the internal effects produced by them.

"_Rome, March 2d._ Back in Rome again, after a five weeks'

sojourn in Naples, from which place I should have despatched this, but that I did not think it quite worth while to send such a piece of egotism so far by mail. We had almost incessant rain while at Naples, which prevented our doing and seeing as much as we wished; but the few fine days we had, we enjoyed and employed to the utmost. Although in January, they were like our June days. A shawl was too warm a garment to be borne in the sun, and upon our out-of-town expeditions we took our lunch in the open air. These were rare days, to be sure, but they gave us some idea of what the climate would have been had the season been a common one, for so much rain at that time, they told us, was almost unprecedented. We went of course to Pompeii, where I had many and pleasant recollections of your husband, tell him; for the explanations which he gave me, when we saw the panorama of that place together in London, had made it all so familiar to my mind that I could not easily overcome the impression that I had been there before. Vesuvius we were content to admire at a distance, fearing the ascent would be injurious to my husband. But the cla.s.sical regions of Avernus and the Elysian fields, the abode of the c.u.maean Sibyl, and the beautiful temples of Baiae, we explored at our leisure.

"I can scarcely fancy any locality more beautiful for a city than that of Naples, and, viewed at a distance, it has a very imposing appearance; but in itself it is noisy, dirty, and disagreeable, with the exception of the modern part of the street which borders upon the bay. We had rooms in that street, within forty feet of the water, and in rain or sunshine enjoyed the beauty of the bay with equal delight. We returned hither in company with Mr. and Mrs. Grinnell, and Mr. and Mrs. Rollins, with whom we have been the greater part of the time since we arrived in Florence in November. We are at lodgings with them here, and, as you may suppose, very much enjoy our quiet family party. We have also Dr. and Mrs. Kirkland, and Mr. and Mrs. Gould, from our part of the country, and many from New York.

"There is so much to be done here, and my husband is obliged to do things so leisurely, that I know not that we shall ever see half that is to be seen. There is a great difference between travelling for health and mere pleasure. Almost all our friends will be on the wing before us, but I trust we shall find our way home in good time, and be the better for having come. Mr.

Ware's is just such an uncertain case, that it is impossible to have any very decided opinion about it,--he sometimes seeming almost as well as ever, then again prostrated by some very trifle. On the whole, there is still much to hope from time and care, but nothing to flatter one into the hope of speedy restoration. May we have patience to wait with cheerfulness the full development of the designs of Heaven with regard to us, hoping for good, and willing to submit to trial!

"This is the season of Lent, which makes no apparent change in the state of things, and before we leave Rome we shall have the famous solemnities of Holy Week, when, if the Pope does not die (which it is reported he is about doing), I hope to witness the illumination of St. Peter's, and to listen to the _Miserere_.

So far, I have not heard any music in Italy which satisfied me, except once the vespers of the nuns in one of the churches here; it is all too loud, rapid, and theatrical. But it is time to despatch my letter, so good by.

"Yours, most affectionately,

"M. L. WARE."

[Footnote 4: "A little village, or rather almost solitary inn, between Rome and Naples."]

The last date of the above letter is the 2d of March; and before the close of that month Mrs. Ware's second child was born,--a daughter, who still lives. Mr. Ware's letter, announcing the event to his brother in Boston, expresses his grat.i.tude for the many mercies that surrounded them, among excellent friends, making "as pretty a little, quiet domestic circle as ever Rome has seen since the days of the twin founders." At the same time, he confesses his entire discouragement in regard to his own health, and their great embarra.s.sment at what course to pursue. "I am weary of this miserably idle life, and yet I am fit for no other. I am afraid to go home, because I know I shall only be able to do half the requisite work, and to do that not more than half; yet to stay away is altogether out of the question." As usual, Mary was ready to do any thing that seemed best, even to go home alone with her new charge, if her husband would be benefited by remaining longer and acting freely. Some prompt and decided course she advised, at whatever sacrifice. "We have talked over this matter together, and the only relief which Mary is able to suggest is, that I should state my case exactly, resign the professorship, so as not to be a burden or hindrance to those for whom I care more than for myself, send her home from Havre, and spend a year in travelling Europe on foot and on horseback. This might be done at a very small expense, an expense which we could meet without taxing College or friends."

We can easily conceive of the anxiety of a high-minded woman, a devoted wife and mother, at such a crisis. We have said that Mrs. Ware has been known to refer to this experience as the great trial of her life, and we suppose the period of which we are speaking was the most trying of all; especially if we comprise in it the few months that preceded the birth of her child,--a season of which she has written more freely than of any other of her trials. Nor can we show the full power of her endurance at that time, and her wonderful energy,--such as is common only to woman,--unless by giving part of a letter written to her physician, describing this experience.

"Not for a single day free from positive pain, I felt determined to keep out of sight all physical as well as mental distress. In this I believe I succeeded, excepting when occasionally nature was overpowered, and I lost for a time my consciousness. But the effort to keep a cheerful outside, when the body was undergoing so great suffering, and the mind fully awake to all the uncertainties and possibilities which lay before us, can only be appreciated or known by one similarly situated. My faith never failed me, nor my confidence that the course I had adopted was the right one. But the degree of tension to which every faculty was stretched, all the time, was just as much as my reason could bear unshaken; and more than it could have borne, I believe, had not my nerves found relief in hours of tearful prostration, when Henry was asleep, or so far out of the way as not to detect it."

We have no further particulars to give of the sojourn in Rome. The travellers gladly turned their faces toward home the moment the season and their strength would permit. Early in May we hear of them in Geneva, and at the end of that month in Paris. From both those places Mr. Ware writes home, in a disheartened, yet decided tone, as to his return, showing what a burden of anxiety they were still bearing. "I have only spoken out more plainly what has for some time been my conviction, that I am gaining nothing; and I simply wish to have you prepared for a proper reception of my _miserability_ when I shall return." "I am sure I need not stay away; I am sure I am not fit to do any hard work; I do not think I could edit the Examiner. But I will come home by the packet of July 20th, and you shall judge. It will be the hardest of all I have yet done, to abstain from Cambridge, especially as Mr. Norton vacates his place, and there is the more need of other laborers."