The Life and Letters of Elizabeth Prentiss Part 55

Der Glaub an dich und deine Kraft Sei Trieb von jedem Triebe!

Sei du nur meine Leidenschaft, Du meine Freud und Liebe!

D.

A few extracts from the little diaries referred to are here given:

_May 15, 1857._--Box came from Mrs. b.u.mstead--my dear, kind friend-- containing _everything_; salmon, tomatoes, oranges, peaches, prunes, cocoa and ham, tea and sugar from her father.[3] How pleasant the kindness of friends! _21st._--Worked at planting aster seeds and putting in verbena cuttings--all in my room, of course. _23d._--First hepaticas in garden. Sweet peas coming up. Brownie hatched--_one_ chicken. _June 1st._--Books from dear Lizzy. "Sickness," may it do me good. [4]

_28th._--Sent flowers to the B.'s, flowers and strawberries to Mrs. N., green peas to E. M., and trout to Mother Hopkins. _July 2d._--Continue to send strawberries--yesterday to the B.'s--to-day to A. B. and Miss G., with rosebuds.

_Oct. 11th._--A beautiful autumn day. Could not leave my bed till near noon. Then Albert drove me down the lane and carried me into the woods in his arms. Eddy has collected $30 for Kansas. [5] _25th._--My whole time, night and day, is spent in setting traps for sleep. To-day the money was sent for Kansas--$55, of which $9 was from us. _Nov.

4th._--Election day. Great excitement. _5th._--Wretched news; it is feared that Buchanan is elected. _Nov. 17th._--The anniversary of my dear mother's death. My own can not be far distant. _I earnestly entreat that none of my friends will wear mourning for me_.

_January 1, 1858._--Outwardly all looks dark--health at the lowest--brain irritated and suffering inexpressibly--but _underneath all_, thank G.o.d, some patience, some resignation, some quiet trust. If it were not for wearing out my friends! But this care, too, I must learn to cast on Him.

_5th._--Albert is reading Miss Bronte's Life to me, and oh, how many chords vibrate deep in my soul as I hear of her _shyness_; her dread of coming in contact with others; her morbid sensitiveness and intense suffering from lowness of spirits; her thirst for knowledge, her consciousness of personal defects, etc., etc., etc.

_9th._--Storms to-day "like mad." Present from Julia Willis. Each day seems a week long, but let me be thankful that I have a chair to sit in, limbs free from palsy, books of all sorts to be read, and kind friends to read. Oh, yes; let me be _thankful_. A. brought "School-days at Rugby." _22d._--Eddy began to wear his coat! A. read to me Tom Brown's "School-days." _23d._--LOVE is the word that fills my horizon to-day.

G.o.d is Love; I must be like Him. _Feb. 3d._--How lovely seem the words DUTY and KIGHT! How I long to be spotless--all pure within and without!... Albert read from Adolph Monod. What a precious book!

_23d._--To-morrow I shall be forty-six years old. If I said one hundred I should believe it as well. _24th._--My birthday.... I feel disposed to take as my motto for this year, "I will hope continually, and will yet praise Thee _more and more_" Eddy began Virgil to-day. _27th._--Woke with a strong impression that I am Christ's, His servant, and as such have nothing to do for myself--no separate interest. Oh, to feel this and _act_ upon it always. And not _only_ a servant, but a _child_; and therefore ent.i.tled to feel an interest in the affairs of the _Family_.

Albert read from the Silent Comforter the piece called "Wearisome Nights," which is an exact expression of my state and feelings. Long to do some good, at least by praying for people. A note from Mrs.

C. Stoddard to my husband and myself, which was truly refreshing.

_26th._--This morning G.o.d a.s.sisted me out of great weakness to converse and pray with my beloved child. He also prayed. I can not but entertain a trembling hope that he is indeed a Christian. So great a mercy would fill me with transport.

_April 6th._--"I love the Lord because He hath heard my voice and my supplication" (Ps. cxvi. I). Albert read this psalm to me nearly fifteen years ago, the morning of the day succeeding that on which G.o.d had delivered me out of great danger and excruciating sufferings and had given us a _living child_. Our hearts swelled with thankfulness then; now we have received our child a second time--anew _gift_. _June 8th._--A.'s holiday. First strawberry! and first rose! (cinnamon).

_July 3d._--Oh, my dear, dear sister Lizzy! Shall I never see you again in this world? I fancied I was familiar with the thought and reconciled to it, but now it agonizes me. [6]

_Dec. 26th._--I do long to submit to--no, to accept joyfully--the will of G.o.d in everything; to see only Love in every trial. But to be made a whip in His hand with which to scourge others--I, who so pa.s.sionately desire to give pleasure, to give only pain--I, who so hate to cause suffering, to inflict nothing else on my best friends--oh, this is _hard_!... I write by feeling with eyes closed. It is midnight; and, as usual, I am and have been sleepless. I am full of tossings to and fro until the dawn. All temporal blessings seem to be expressed by one word--_Sleep_.... Disease is advancing with rapid strides; many symptoms of paralysis; that or insanity certain, unless G.o.d in mercy to myself and my friends takes me home first.

_31st._--"Here then to Thee Thine own I leave-- Mould as Thou wilt Thy pa.s.sive clay; But let me all Thy stamp receive, But let me all Thy words obey.

Serve with a single heart and eye, And to Thy glory live or die."

_Jan. 26, 1859._--Cars ran through from Adams to Troy _first time_.

Eddy studying Greek, Latin, etc., at school; Geology at home. _Feb.

3d._--Much of the day in intense bodily anguish, but have had lately more of Christ in my heart. Albert is reading me a precious sermon by Huntingdon on "a life hid with Christ in G.o.d." Oh, to learn more of Christ and His love! _5th._--O G.o.d, who art _rich_ in mercy, if Thou art looking for some creature on whom to bestow it, behold the poorest, neediest, emptiest of all Thou hast made, and _satisfy_ me with Thy mercy. _Sunday, 6th._--How thankful I am for the many good books I have!

and oh, how I stand _amazed_ at the faith and patience of G.o.d's dear children (Mrs. Coutts, _e.g._), to _read_ of whose sufferings makes my heart bleed and almost murmur on their account. _March 17th._--"So foolish was I and ignorant, I was as a _beast_ before Thee." Oh, howr it comforts me that there is such a verse in the Bible as this! It comes _near_ describing my folly, stupidity, ignorance, and blindness....

Quite overcome to-day by a most unexpected favor from my dear friends the Jameses, [7] who I thought had forgotten me. _April 12th._--My love to my dear, dear sister. I shall never see her, never write to her, but we will spend eternity together.

_Dec 1st._--Albert opened the _piano_, and, for the first time in _six years_, I touched it. Beautiful flower-pictures from Lizzy. [8]

_Sunday, Jan._ 1, 1860.--"Out of weakness were made strong." This is the verse which has been given me as a motto for the year. May it be fulfilled in my experience! But should it not be so to my apprehension, may I be able to say, "Most gladly, therefore, will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

_March 26th._--For several days I have been led to pray that the indwelling Spirit may indite my pet.i.tions. To-day He leads me to pray for the annihilation of self. My whole soul cries out for this--to forget my own sorrows, wants, sins even, and lose myself in Christ.... O precious Saviour, let me see Thee; let me behold Thy beauty; let me hear Thy voice; let me wash Thy feet with tears; let me gaze on Thee forever.

_March 31st._--A remarkable day. 1st. Weather like Indian summer. 2d.

After a very poor night, expecting to spend the day in bed, I was so strengthened as to ride up to the mountain with Albert and to enjoy seeing the mosses. In the P.M. rode again with Eddy.

_June 30th._--For years I have been constantly fearing insanity or palsy. Now I hear of Mrs. ---- struck with paralysis and my dear friend ---- with mental alienation, while I am spared.

_June 27th._--Let a person take a delicately-strung musical instrument and strike blows on it with a hammer till nearly every string is broken and the whole instrument trembles and shrieks under the infliction--that is what has been done to me. Words are entirely inadequate to paint what I suffer.

_June 30th._--Another great mercy. A letter from N. P. W. [9] Under date of June 4th, I wrote, "May G.o.d bless," etc., and G.o.d has blessed him.

Oh, praise, praise to Him who hears even before we ask.

_April 26, 1861._--"Hangs my helpless soul on Thee." Oh, how many thousand times do I repeat this line during the sleepless hours of my wretched nights!

As the year advanced, the entries became fewer and fewer; some of them, by reason of extreme weakness and suffering, having been left unfinished. But no weakness or suffering could wholly repress her love of Nature. Imprisoned within the same pages that record her nights and days of anguish are exquisite bits of fern, delicate mosses, rose-leaves, and other flowers pressed and placed there by her own hand.

But far more touching than these mementoes of her love of Nature are the pa.s.sages in this diary of her last year on earth, that express her love to Christ and testify to His presence and supporting grace in what she describes as "the fathomless abyss of misery" in which she was plunged.

They remind one of the tints of unearthly light and beauty that adorn sometimes the face of a thundercloud. They are such as the following:

_June 11, 1861._--Blessed be G.o.d for comfort. I see my sins all gone--all set down to Christ's account; and not only so, but--oh, wonder!--all His merits transferred to me. Well may it be said, "Let us come boldly to the throne of grace." Why not be bold with such--just like presenting an order at a bank.

_Nov. 6th._--Come, O come, dear Lord Jesus! Come to this town, this church, this family, and oh, come to this poor longing famished heart.

_Sunday, Nov. 10th._--A better night and some peace of mind. But O my Saviour, support me; let not the fiery billows swallow me up! And O let me not fail to be thankful for the mercies mingled in my cup of suffering--a pleasant room adorned with gifts of love from absent friends, and just now with beautiful mosses brought from the woods by my dear husband.

The next entry contains directions respecting parting gifts to be sent to her sister and other absent friends after her death. Then comes the last entry, which is as follows:

"I need not be afraid to ask to be--first, 'holy and without blame before Him in love'; second, 'filled with all the fullness of G.o.d'; third--."

Here her pen dropped from her hand, and a little later her wearisome pilgrimage was over, and she entered into the saint's everlasting rest.

Further extracts from her literary journal:

_Tuesday, Jan. 11, 1836._--Last meeting of the cla.s.s. Mr. Dana made some remarks intended as a sort of leave-taking. He spoke of the importance of having some fixed _principles_ of criticism. These principles should be obtained from within--from the study of our own minds. If we try many criticisms by this standard, we shall turn away from them dissatisfied.

Addison's criticisms on Milton are often miserable, and, where he is right, it seems to be by a sort of accident. He constantly appeals to the French critics as authorities. Another advantage will result from establishing principles of judging--we shall acquire self-knowledge.

We can not ask ourselves, Is this true? does it accord with my own consciousness? etc., without gaining an acquaintance with ourselves. And then, in general, the more the taste is cultivated and refined, the more we shall find to like. Critics by rule, who have one narrow standard by which they try everything, may find much to condemn and little to approve: but it is not so in nature, nor with those who judge after nature. The great duty is to learn to be happy in ourselves.... I am surprised (said Mr. Dana) to find how much my present tastes and judgments are those of my childhood. In some respects, to be sure, I have altered; but, in general, the authors I loved and sympathised with then, I love and sympathise with now. When I was connected with the North-American, I wrote a review of Hazlitt's British Poets, in which I expressed my opinion of Pope and of Wordsworth. The sensation it excited is inconceivable. One man said I was mad and ought to be put in a strait-jacket. However, I did not mind it much, so long as they did not put me in one--that, to be sure, I should not have liked very well.

Public opinion has changed since then. Many of the old _prose_ writers are very fine. Jeremy Taylor, though I admire him exceedingly, has been, I think, rather indiscriminately praised.... To come to the poets again, Young should be read and thought upon. He is often ant.i.thetical, but is a profound thinker. I was quite ashamed the other day on taking up his works to find how many of my thoughts he had expressed better than I could express them. I am convinced there is nothing new under the sun.

Collins has written but little, but he is a most graceful and beautiful creature. For faithfulness of portraiture and bringing out every-day characters, Crabbe is unrivalled in modern days. And Wordsworth--he and Coleridge have been obliged to make minds to understand them. Who equals Wordsworth in purity, in majesty, in tranquil contemplation, in childlikeness? Coleridge is exerting a great influence in this country, especially over the minds of some of the young men.

_Friday._--To-day by invitation I attended the first meeting of the new cla.s.s and heard the introductory lecture. Mr. D. began by speaking of the object of the formation of the cla.s.s. I shall adopt the first person in writing what he said, though I do not pretend to give his words. I have not invited you here to amuse an idle hour, or to afford you a topic of conversation when you meet. One great design has been to cherish in you a love of home and of solitude. Yet this is not all, for of what advantage is it to be at home, unless home is a place for the unfolding of warm affections? and of what use is solitude, unless it be improved by patient thought, self-study and a communion with those great minds who became great by thinking. But it is not merely thinking as an operation of the intellect that is necessary; it must be affectionate thinking; there must be heartfelt love, and this can be attained only by a _habit_ of loving.... I would not impart sternness to the beautiful countenance of English literature. Beautiful indeed it is, but not like the beauty of the human face, that may be discovered by all who have eyes to look upon it; the heart as well as the head must engage, or as Coleridge says, _the heart in the head_. Let us not approach with carelessness or light-mindedness. Poetry requires a peculiar state of mind, a peculiar combination of mental and moral qualifications to be feelingly apprehended. But there--I will not write a word more. It is a shame to spoil anything so beautiful. Poor Mr. Dana! I hope he will never know to what he has been subjected.

_Wednesday._--Everybody has set out to invite me to visit them. I made two visits last evening, one to Mrs. Robinson, where I had a fine opportunity to settle some of my Hebrew difficulties with Prof. R., and saw De Wette's translations of Job. This evening I am to make two more, and to-morrow I spend the day out and receive company in the evening. So much for dissipation, and for study.

PORTLAND, March 1, 1836.

I believe there is scarcely any branch of knowledge in which I am so deficient as history, both ecclesiastical and profane. I have never been much interested _facts_, considered simply as facts, and that is about all that is to be found in most historical works. The relations of facts to each other and of all to reason, in other words, the philosophy of history, are not often to be found in books, and I have not hitherto been able to supply the want from my own mind. _April 16, 1836._--If my b.u.mp of combativeness does not grow it won't be for want of exercise.

I have had another dispute of two hours' length to-day with another person. Subjects, Cousin--Locke--innate ideas--idea of s.p.a.ce--of spirit-life, materialism--phrenology--Upham--wine--alcohol--etc.

_June._--My patience has been sorely tried this afternoon. I was visiting and Coleridge was dragged in, as it seemed for the express purpose of provoking me by abusing him--just as anybody might show off a lunatic.... But I did not and never will dispute on such subjects with those who seek not to know the truth.

_Feb. 6, 1837._--Why is it that our desires so infinitely transcend our capacities? We grasp at everything--do so by the very const.i.tution of our natures; and seize--less than nothing. We can not rest without perfection in _everything_, yet the labor of a life devoted to _one thing_, only shows us how unattainable it is. I am oppressed with gloom--oh, for light, light, light! _Feb. 20th._--Alas! my feelings of discouragement and despondency, instead of diminishing, strengthen every day. I have been ill for the last fortnight; and possibly physical causes have contributed to shroud my mind in this thick darkness. Yet I can not believe that conviction so clear, conclusions so irresistible as those which weigh me down, are entirely the result of morbid physical action. In order to prove that they are not, and to have the means of judging hereafter of the rationalness of my present judgments, I will record the grounds of my despondency. As nearly as I can recollect, the thought which oftenest pressed itself upon me, when these feelings of gloom began, was that I was living to no purpose. I was conscious, not only of a conviction that I _ought_ to live to do good, but of an _intense desire_ to do good--to _know_ that I was living to some purpose; and I felt perfectly certain that this knowledge was essential to my happiness. I began to wonder that I had been contented to seek knowledge all my life for my own pleasure, or with an indefinite idea that it might contribute in some way to my usefulness,--without any distinct plan.... I then began to inquire what results I had of "all my labor which I have taken under the sun" and these are my conclusions: