Chapter I: Front Matter

I consider an human Soul, without Education, like marble in
the Quarry, which shows none of its inherent Beauties till
the Skill of the Polisher fetches out the colours, makes the
surface shine, and discovers every ornamental Cloud, Spot,
and Vein, that runs through the Body of it. Education, after
the same manner, when it works upon a noble Mind, draws out
to view every latent Virtue and Perfection, which, without
such Helps, are never able to make their Appearance.

ADDISON.

* * * * *

A New Edition.

_LONDON_:

Printed by Weed and Rider, Little Britain,

FOR SCATCHERD AND LETTERMAN, AVE-MARIA LANE; LONGMAN, HURST,
REES, ORME, AND BROWN; CADELL AND DAVIES; F. C. AND J.
RIVINGTON; SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES; G. AND W. B.
WHITTAKER; BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY; J. MAWMAN; J. HARRIS
AND SONS; HARVEY AND DARTON; AND C. TAYLOR.

1820.

_CONTENTS._

Letter Page

DEDICATION v

Life of Hester Chapone vii

I. On the first Principles of Religion 1

II. On the Study of the Holy Scriptures 15

III. The same Subject continued 34

IV. On the Regulation of the Heart
and Affections 51

V. The same Subject continued 66

VI. On the Government of the Temper 98

VII. On Economy 121

VIII. On Politeness and Accomplishments 143

IX. On Geography and Chronology 170

X. On the Manner and Course of reading
History 186

Conclusion 209

TO

_MRS. MONTAGU_.

MADAM,

I BELIEVE you are persuaded that I never entertained a thought of appearing in public, when the desire of being useful to one dear child, in whom I take the tenderest interest, induced me to write the following Letters:--perhaps it was the partiality of friendship, which so far biassed your judgment as to make you think them capable of being more extensively useful, and warmly to recommend the publication of them. Though this partiality could alone prevent your judgment from being considered as decisive in favour of the work, it is more flattering to the writer than any literary fame; if, however, you will allow me to add, that some strokes of your elegant pen have corrected these Letters, I may hope, they will be received with an attention, which will insure a candid judgment from the reader, and perhaps will enable them to make some useful impressions on those, to whom they are now particularly offered.

They only, who know how your hours are employed, and of what important value they are to the good and happiness of individuals, as well as to the delight and improvement of the public, can justly estimate my obligation to you for the time and consideration you have bestowed on this little work. As _you_ have drawn it forth, I may claim a sort of right to the ornament and protection of your name, and to the privilege of publicly professing myself, with the highest esteem,

MADAM,

Your much obliged friend,
and most obedient
humble servant,

HESTER CHAPONE.

LIFE
OF
_HESTER CHAPONE_.

Among the illustrious women whose literary productions adorned and improved the age in which they appeared, and are likely to be transmitted with reputation to posterity, Mrs. Chapone is entitled to distinguished consideration. However, incited by the persuasions and encouraged by the applauses of Richardson, she had many prejudices to encounter, many impediments to overcome. Female writers, always severely scrutinized, and often condemned, had not then obtained the estimation they have since commanded.

* * * * *

Hester Mulso, better known as Chapone, was the daughter of Thomas Mulso, Esq. of Twywell, in Northamptonshire; who, in the year 1719, married the posthumous daughter of Colonel Thomas, of the Guards. She lived long enough to see the last props of an ancient and towering family fall to the dust.

Of the immediate connections of Mr. Mulso, his elder sister, Anne, was married to the Rev. Dr. Donne, formerly Prebendary of Canterbury; and the younger, Susanna, to the brother of his own wife, the Rev. Dr. John Thomas, who was preceptor to his Majesty King George III., and who successively held the bishoprics of Peterborough, Salisbury, and Winchester. Mr. Mulso had himself several children; but of these only five lived to grow up, and even of the five, Charles, his third son, who was an officer in the navy, died, in the Mediterranean, at the age of twenty-one.

Thomas, the eldest of Mr. Mulso's sons, was bred to the law; and, for some years, he went the Oxford circuit. He declined legal practice on coming to the possession of his paternal inheritance; but was afterwards made Registrar of Peterborough, and a Commissioner of Bankrupts. He published, in 1768, 'Calistus, or the Man of Fashion;' and 'Sophronius, or the Country Gentleman.' Thomas was the elect brother of Mrs. Chapone. He died early in February, 1799; and, as his death was not thought near, she lost, in him, the tie that bound her to life.

John, the second of Mr. Mulso's sons, became Prebendary of the cathedrals of Winchester and Salisbury, and held two valuable benefices in Hampshire. It was at the houses of this brother that Mrs. Chapone spent much of her time; and to one of his children, her beloved niece, the world owes her best work. He died at the prebendal residence at Winchester, in 1791, having survived his wife one year.

Edward, the youngest son, was in the Excise Office. He was skilled in music, and for many years President of the Anacreonic Society. Of this brother, the life of her youth, Mrs. Chapone was also fond; and, as his death was sudden and quick, his loss seriously affected her. He died during the April of 1782.

Hester Mulso, the main subject of this sketch, was born on the 27th of October, 1727; and was the only daughter whom her father had the pleasure of seeing arrive to mature years. How soon Miss Mulso accustomed herself to investigate what she read, and how well, may be inferred from a passage in her published 'Miscellanies;' where, she says, that when fifteen years old, being charmed with many of the doctrines of the mystics, she then began to canvass them deeply; and that, as reason grew, she was able to detect and to reject the fanciful theology with which they were fraught. Even at nine years of age she was an author. Accustomed to read the old romance, which suited her then childish taste, she wrote 'The Loves of Amorat and Melissa,' which, however defective, gave promise of the genius that distinguished her maturer compositions. Her mind could not, however, long dwell on such works. 'I make no scruple,' declares Miss Mulso, writing to Miss Carter, from Peterborough, July, 1750, 'to call romances the worst of all the species of writing: unnatural representations of the passions, false sentiments, false precepts, false wit, false honour, and false modesty, with a strange heap of improbable unnatural incidents, mixed up with true history, and fastened upon some of the great names of antiquity, make up the composition of a romance--at least of such as I have read, which have been mostly French ones. Then the prolixity and poverty of the style is unsupportable. I have (and yet I am still alive) drudged through Le Grand Cyrus in twelve large volumes, Cleopatra in eight or ten, Polexander, Ibrahim, Clelie, and some others, whose names, as well as all the rest of them, I have forgotten; but this was in the days when I did not choose my own books, for there was no part of my life in which I loved romances.' This censure of romances, ancient or modern, is not more severe than it is just. With scarcely an exception, the business of romances is to make good bad, and bad good; to misplace and misstate events, falsify characters, and mislead readers. They are full of grave lies, well told, to an ill end. These are the Will o' Wisps of the mind.

Something of importance is stated, where Miss Mulso says, that she read romances, volume upon volume, in the days when she did not choose her own books; and when, therefore, she could not avoid this infantile course of reading. She was not then permitted to go in her own way. Superadded to the disadvantages then attending female education, she struggled under domestic discouragements. Maternal vanity set itself against her advances in literature; and it was not till the death of her mother took place, that Miss Mulso, liberated from all impediments, felt herself free to pursue the cultivation of her own understanding. 'I believe,' she writes, referring to her new situation, early in 1750, 'there are few people who are better pleased and contented with their lot than I; for I am qualified to feel my present happiness; by having early experienced very different sensations.'

Here then is one marked era in the life of Miss Mulso. Being now mistress of herself, as to the disposal of her time, she rapidly compassed the circle of intellectual improvement. Notwithstanding that she was self-instructed, she soon became mistress of the French and Italian languages, and made some proficiency even in the Latin. Attached thus to literature, she was also careful to select her acquaintance from among persons who were likely to improve her own taste. It was in this way that she cultivated an intimacy with the celebrated Richardson; and that, in 1750, when she was twenty-three years of age, she ventured to controvert his opinions on 'Filial Obedience.'[1]

Richardson delighted to stimulate female talents to honourable and persevering exertions. Perhaps his partiality for epistolary intercourse, in which he successively engaged his fair friends, eventually decided Mrs. Chapone as to the mode of communicating her instructions to a beloved niece.

About this time, 1749 to 1752, she wrote some poems. Her 'Ode to Peace,' and that to Miss Carter, prefixed to Epictetus, were the first fruits of her muse. Her verse comes up to what she thought of verse, and this seems as much as can with truth be said of it. 'As fond as I am of the works of fancy,' says she, 'of the bold imagery of a Shakspeare, or a Milton, and the delicate landscapes of Thomson, I receive much greater and more solid pleasure from their poetry, as it is the dress and ornament of wisdom and morality, than all the flowers of fancy, and the charms of harmonious numbers, can give

'When gay description holds the place of sense.'

Pursuing the satisfactions of literature, Miss Mulso now produced the 'Story of Fidelia.' Although this tale was written for the 'Adventurer,' she is represented as hesitating to give it to the world; and as publishing it only in compliance with the wishes of friendship. Little is to be said in praise of this story. Designed, as it was, to expose the miseries of freethinking in women, its reasoning tends rather to stagger the unlettered moralist than to confute intellectual scepticism. It is affected as to its style, and problematical as to its end.

While Miss Mulso was hesitating as to what should be Fidelia's fate, 'to print or not to print,' Miss Carter, to whom she was now known, decided her for the press. Miss Mulso idolized Miss Carter. Astonished at her acquirements, humbled by her talents, she approaches to her as to one of superior existence[2]. Miss Carter accepts the homage of Miss Mulso; and seems, throughout her deportment, to view it as due to herself. Such friends as they were, for their friendship was not mutual in kind, so they lasted for more than fifty years. Letters were the chief cement of their long friendship.

Nearly at the same time that Miss Mulso commenced acquaintance with Miss Carter, it was her lot to meet with Mr. Chapone, to whom she was at last married. This gentleman, who was practising the law, was introduced to Richardson's friends, at North-End, near Hammersmith, and fully admitted among them in the year 1750. 'Most heartily do I thank good Mrs. Dewes,' writes Richardson, August 20, 1750, 'for her recommendation of Mr. Chapone to my acquaintance and friendship. I am greatly taken with him. A sensible, and ingenious, a modest young gentleman.' Miss Mulso's friends own, that, from 'their first introduction, she entertained a distinguished esteem for Mr. Chapone. It was, with her, love at first sight; but, according to her relations, as their intimacy improved, and her attachment became rooted, she had the gratification to perceive that it was mutual.' She was certainly in love. 'Your opinion of the lordly sex,' she says, writing to Miss Carter, in 1754, 'I know is not a very high one, but yet I will one day or other make you confess that a man may be capable of all the delicacy, purity, and tenderness, which distinguish our sex, joined with all the best qualities that dignify his own.' Whatever were her father's original objections to her marriage, these were for some time found to be insuperable; for, having been made acquainted with her passion, he, instead of immediately countenancing her wishes, made her promise that she would not contract any matrimonial engagement without his previous permission. Prudence forbad him to approve, we are told, what kindness would not suffer him to prohibit.

Visiting the coterie of Richardson, during the summer of 1753, Miss Mulso was gratified by an interview with Dr. Johnson, with whom she before had no personal acquaintance. Her whole account of this interview may be fitly told here. 'Mr. Johnson' (Miss Mulso is writing to Miss Carter) 'was very communicative and entertaining, and did me the honour to address most of his discourse to me. I had the assurance to dispute with him on the subject of human malignity[3]; and wondered to hear a man, who by his actions shows so much benevolence, maintain that the human heart is naturally malevolent, and that all the benevolence we see, in the few who are good, is acquired by reason and religion. You may believe I entirely disagreed with him, being, as you know, fully persuaded that benevolence, or the love of our fellow-creatures, is as much a part of our nature as self-love; and that it cannot be suppressed, or extinguished, without great violence from the force of other passions. I told him I suspected him of these bad notions from some of his Ramblers, and had accused him to you; but that you persuaded me I had mistaken his sense. To which he answered, that if he had betrayed such sentiments in his Ramblers, it was not with design; for that he believed _the doctrine of human malevolence, though a true one, is not an useful one_, and ought not to be published to the world. Is there any truth,' subjoins Miss Mulso, 'that would not be useful, or that should not be known?'

The misfortune is, that, on such topics as this, which must implicate the character of man, generally as well as personally, each one writes as each sees things, and not as things might or ought to be seen. Establishing our individual experience as the criterion of universal opinion, we are too apt to speak of the world as we find it; and to conclude, that what happens to us must of necessity happen to others, and that uniformity of experience will terminate in similarity of decision. Perhaps truth is still clear of extremes. Man is not so bad as some state him to be; nor is man so good as some think him to be.

Miss Mulso is now to be known as Mrs. Chapone. Perceiving that her inclination to matrimony was decisive, Mr. Mulso, though he still objected to the match, consented to such arrangements, towards the close of 1760, as to admit of the union, in one day, of his eldest son, Thomas, with Miss Prescott, and of his only daughter, Hester, with Mr. Chapone. Living with her father, who was indulgently attached to her, Miss Mulso had previously been permitted to enjoy, fairly and fully, the society of Mr. Chapone.[4]

'Give me your congratulations,' writes the now Mrs. Chapone, to Miss Carter, from town, December the 9th, 1760, 'my dear friend; but, as much for my brother and friend (Mr. Thomas Mulso and Miss Prescott) as for myself; for, in truth, I could not have enjoyed my own happiness in an union with the man of my choice, had I been forced to leave them in the same uncomfortable state of tedious and almost hopeless expectation in which they have suffered so long. I shall rejoice to hear that you are coming to town, and shall hope for many a comfortable tete-a-tete with you in my lodgings in Carey Street; for there I must reside till Mr. Chapone can get a house that suits him, which is no easy matter, as he is so confined in point of situation,' &c. &c. Pleasing as might be the prospect of her marriage pleasures, it will soon be seen that, as Mrs. Barbauld wrote, 'her married life was short, and,' short as it was, 'not very happy!'

Scarcely is Mrs. Chapone first settled, when _she seems to complain of being in lodgings_; and, when her husband has taken a house, _still she regrets living_ in Arundel Street, as this is '_very wide from_ Clarges Street, where' she supposes that her friend _Miss Carter's_ '_residence_ is fixed.' Even now, dissatisfied with 'a life of hurry and engagement,' she puts 'the drudgery of answering all the congratulatory letters,' heaped on them as newly married, 'upon Mr. Chapone; who, _poor man_,' says his wife, 'was _forced to humour_ me _a little at first_.' Here is not the worst. '_I have more hours to myself_,' she adds, '_than I wish for_; for business usually allows me _very little of my husband's company_, except at meals.' Instead of 'many a comfortable tete-a-tete with' Miss Carter, whom she assures of her 'most perfect dissent' from the maxim of Johnson's school, 'that a married woman can have no friendship but with her husband,' Chapone himself, pleased with Miss Carter's old friendship, is represented as wondering why she never visits his wife. 'Surely, my dear,' he would say to her, 'if Miss Carter loved you, she would sometimes have spent a day with you; and then I should have known her better. _If ever she loved you, I fancy she left it off on your being married._' Mrs. Chapone's letters may explain the absence of Miss Carter. What friend would be in haste to run to her, who tells that she 'lived in dirt,' and in 'puddling lodgings;' and who adds, 'at last,' that she reckons herself to be but 'tolerably settled?'

Lengthened courtships too seldom conclude with happy marriages. Six years of the lives of one pair, 1754 to 1760, was by far too long to make love. Our choice may prove to be our lot, just when our lot is no more our choice.

Miss Mulso was also more than old enough for Mrs. Chapone. When women are of disputatious dispositions[5], fixed in their notions, and do not like learned husbands[6], because they may hope to rule simple ones, they should marry before the age of thirty-three.

Poverty is inimical to felicity; but marriage penury, worst of woes, is inevitably calamitous. Pecuniary difficulties long protracted the union of Miss Mulso with Mr. Chapone, who at last died in embarrassing circumstances. Much may be borne; but to court long, wait for wealth, wed late, and fare ill, seem more than the griefs to which flesh is heir.

In her advice to a beloved niece, and in the letter to a new-married lady, there are passages perhaps referable to the fate of Mrs. Chapone. 'Young women,' she observes, '_know so little_ of the world, especially _of the other sex_, and _such pains are usually taken to deceive them_, that they are every way unqualified to choose for themselves, &c. Many a heart-ache shall _I_ feel for _you_, my sweet girl, if I live a few years longer[7]!' Equally impressive is her delineation of matrimonial bickerings. 'Whatever may be said of the _quarrels of lovers_, (believe _me_!) _those of married people have always dreadful consequences_, especially if they are not very short and very slight. If _they_ are suffered to _produce bitter or contemptuous expressions_, or betray _habitual dislike_ in one party _of any thing in the person or mind_ of the other, _such wounds can scarcely ever be thoroughly healed_: and though regard to principle and character lays the married couple under a necessity to make up the breach as well as they can, yet is their affiance in each other's affection so rudely shaken in such conflicts, that it can hardly ever be perfectly fixed again. _The painful recollection of what is passed, will often intrude upon the tenderest hours_; and every trifle will awaken and renew it. You must, _even now_, (it is to a lady _newly married_ that Mrs. C. is addressing herself) be particularly on your guard against _this_ source of misery.'

Within the short space of ten months after marriage, Mr. Chapone, whose health could not have been good, was seized by a fever, which, in about a week, terminated his mortal career. Though his illness was short, and thought fatal at first, Mrs. Chapone was not with him for five days before _his death_, 'as her presence was judged to be very hurtful to him!' She then heard of his death 'with _her accustomed meekness_;' and, continues Miss Burrows, writing to Miss Carter, September the 22d, 1761, 'you would hardly believe me were I to describe to you _her calmness and composure_,' &c., or, 'half _the noble things she says and does_,' &c. '_She suffered herself_,' again writes Miss Burrows, October 5, 1761, '_to be the most consoled_, by the kindness of her friends, _I ever saw any body in her situation_.' Mrs. Chapone was yet for some time ill, on the death of Mr. Chapone; and she found some other difficulties[8] against which to bear up. Circumstances shortly after induced her to retire into lodgings upon a small but decent income, where, cultivating her connections, she contrived to preserve her independence and respectability. Her small property was soon augmented by the death of her father, who did not survive her husband quite two years.

Mrs. Chapone now spent much of her time with friends. Dr. John Thomas, her maternal uncle, being then Bishop of Winchester, she was always welcome either at Farnham Castle, or at Winchester House. Of her various letters from Farnham Castle, the following one, relating to royalty, is sufficiently interesting to find its place here. It must be remembered, that the Bishop had been preceptor to our late and venerable King.--'Mr. Buller went to Windsor on Saturday,' writes Mrs. Chapone to Mr. Burrows, August 20, 1778, 'saw the King, who enquired much about the Bishop; and hearing that he would be eighty-two next Monday, "Then," said he, "I will go and wish him joy." "And I," said the Queen, "will go too." Mr. B. then dropped a hint of the additional pleasure it would give the Bishop if he could see the Princes. "_That_," said the King, "requires contrivance; but, if I can manage it, we will _all_ go".' ... Monday morning, a little after eleven o'clock, 'came the King and Queen in their phaeton, three coaches and six, and one coach and four, with a large retinue of servants. They were all conducted into the great drawing-room, by Mr. and Mrs. Buller, where, after paying their compliments to the Bishop and Mrs. Thomas, those of the first column remained there to breakfast; those of the second column left the room, and were led by Mrs. T. to the dressing-room, where Mrs. T. and I were, and where I made tea for them. After our breakfast was over, as well as that of the upper house, the royal guests[9] came to visit me in the dressing-room. The King sent the Princes in to pay their compliments to _Mrs. Chapone_: himself, he said, was an old acquaintance. Whilst the Princes were speaking to me, Mr. Arnold, sub-preceptor, said, "These gentlemen are well acquainted with a certain Ode[10] prefixed to Mrs. Carter's Epictetus, if you know any thing of it." Afterwards the King came and spoke to us; and the Queen led the Princess Royal to me, saying, "This is a young lady, who, I hope, has profited much by your instructions[11]. She has read them more than once, and will read them oftener;" and the Princess assented to the praise which followed, with a very modest air. She has a sweet countenance, and simple unaffected manners. I was pleased with all the Princes, but particularly with Prince William, who is little of his age, but so sensible and engaging, that he won the Bishop's heart; to whom he particularly attached himself, and would stay with him while all the rest ran about the house. His conversation was surprisingly manly and clever for his age: yet with the young Bullers he was quite the boy; and said to John Buller, by way of encouraging him to talk, "Come, we are both boys, you know." All of them showed affectionate respect to the Bishop; the Prince of Wales pressed his hand so hard that he hurt it. Mrs. B----'s two girls were here, and the eldest son, and great notice was taken of them all. The youngest girl, a comical natural little creature between eight and nine, says she thinks it hard that Princes may not marry whom they please; and seems not without hopes, that, if it were not for this restriction, the Prince of Wales might prove a lover of hers.'

Dr. Thomas, to whom these royal honours were thus paid, died in May 1781, at the age of eighty-six years.

Several months of the year 1766 were passed by Mrs. Chapone at the parsonage of her second brother, John, at Thornhill, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. It was then she conceived that partiality for her niece, his eldest daughter, to which society is indebted for her 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind.'

Having become acquainted with Mrs. Montagu some time in 1762, she about eight years after joined her in her tour into Scotland; a tour from which she derived both information and amusement, and which her pen has described with fidelity and interest. 'I am grown as bold as a lion with Mrs. Montagu,' asserts Mrs. Chapone, two years before their tour, to Mrs. Carter, 'and fly in her face whenever I have a mind: in short, I enjoy her society with the most perfect _gout_; and find my love for her takes off my fear and awe, though my respect for her character continually increases.' Mrs. Montagu's great friendship was found eminently conducive to the welfare of Mrs. Chapone. It added to her sources of intellectual gratification, extended the old circle of her acquaintance, and emboldened and encouraged her to submit her writings to the world.

We are now to consider Mrs. Chapone's literary performances; which, following the order of publication, consist of

Letters on the Improvement of the Mind; 1773.

Miscellanies, in Prose and Verse; 1775.

Posthumous Works; two volumes, 1804.

These latter volumes contain Mrs. Chapone's Correspondence with Mr. Richardson, on Filial Obedience; a Matrimonial Creed, sent by her to him; Letters to her friends; some Fugitive Poetry; and 'An Account of her _Life and Character_, drawn up _by her own Family_.' Dismissing the consideration of its partiality, this account, justly so called, has no claim to the character of biography.

Her 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind' owed much of their early success to the talents and kindness of Mrs. Montagu. 'The bookseller,' writes their Author, July the 20th, 1773, 'is preparing the second edition with all haste, the whole of the first being gone out of his hands; which, considering that he printed off fifteen hundred at first, is an extraordinary quick sale. _I attribute this success principally to Mrs. Montagu's name, and patronage_,' &c. More of this is told in the Dedication of the work to her. 'I believe you (Mrs. Montagu) are persuaded that I (Mrs. Chapone) never entertained a thought of appearing in public, when the desire of being useful to one dear child, in whom I take the tenderest interest[12], induced me to write the following letters: perhaps it was the partiality of friendship which so far biassed your judgment as to make you think them capable of being more extensively useful, and warmly to recommend the publication of them. If,' proceeds the author, 'you will allow me to add that _some strokes of your elegant pen_ have corrected these Letters, I may hope _they will be received with an attention_ which will insure a candid judgment from the reader; and, perhaps, will enable them to _make some useful impressions_ on those to whom they are now particularly offered.'

Notwithstanding their intrinsic excellence, various circumstances co-operated to give to her Letters immediate popularity. Besides the beginning preference for books on education, epistolary composition, the style of her work, was then in very general estimation. It was the style to which the volumes of Richardson, the correspondence of Pope, the letters of Chesterfield and of Orrery, had familiarized the public mind. Nor could expectation have been indifferent to any production from the pen of one who was the friendly pupil of Samuel Richardson; in favour of whom the discerning part of readers were already prepossessed, by the commendation he had bestowed on her talents, and the assiduity with which he had cultivated her correspondence. What might not be hoped from a lady, who, when not much above twenty years of age, was considered qualified to controvert with him the subject of paternal authority and filial obedience? But, if admiration had been excited, it was only in order to be gratified. Mrs. Chapone did not disappoint the expectations entertained concerning Miss Mulso.

It is the imperishable honour of Mrs. Chapone, that the foundation of _her_ temple of education is on the rock, and not in the sands; that the superstructure is therefore not only beautiful, but lasting. On the being of a God, she fixes the tottering hopes of mere mortality: and by his Revealed Will would direct its steps, to certainty, happiness, and glory. Nor has she been unsuccessful in displaying the benevolent attributes of Deity, and in exciting the gratitude of the heart towards him. Without impeaching his justice, she has exalted his mercy; without diminishing the awe, she has increased the fervency of pious adoration; without depreciating prayer, she has insisted on a spirit of thanksgiving. Devotion, in her view, becomes attractive as well as important. We love, while we obey; while we tremble, we rejoice. Resting the ground-work of all morality on religion, _assent_ is insisted upon prior to _investigation_; not that the latter is excluded. Since, however, we are compelled to _act_ before we become qualified to _think_, it is of the utmost importance that some standard be established in the mind, for the regulation of the conduct. Religion supplies this deficiency. Its penalties and rewards are offered, at a time when we are principally governed by our hopes or fears; and are, indeed, incapable of being acted upon by abstracted considerations of right and wrong.

Of the early _historical_ parts of the Old Testament, Mrs. Chapone speaks with the commendation they will always obtain from discriminating minds. Nothing in profane history is equal to their beautiful simplicity, their affecting minuteness. They are not sufficiently studied.

On the scope of the Gospel, as delivered in the New Testament, it is justly affirmed--'The whole tenor of the Gospel is to offer us every help, direction, and motive, that can enable us to attain that degree of perfection, on which depends our eternal good.' Exception must nevertheless be taken to a few epithets, by which she endeavours to picture a future state of blessedness; as, 'the richest imagination can paint:' for, what imagination shall paint that which 'it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive?'

Letters the Fourth and Fifth, _On the Regulation of the Heart and Affections_, display considerable knowledge of human nature, exhibit high reasoning powers on the part of the writer, and are fraught with excellent moral distinctions. The fifth, however, owing to the subjects it embraces, is particularly valuable to the sex to whom it is addressed. This encomium will apply to her sentiments _On Household Economy_, and _On Deportment towards Servants_. The course of _Studies_ and _Accomplishments_ recommended by her, perhaps, still includes all that is essential.

Unornamental, but not ungraceful, Mrs. Chapone's style, though plain, is deserving of commendation. If there be one main fault in it, one reigning vice, it is that it abounds with parentheses, which tend to obscure it.

The success of her Letters is stated by herself to have been the source of much good to her: she who, only ten years before, declared that 'this world had nothing for her but a few friends,' who owns that 'a certain weariness of life, and a sense of insignificance and insipidity,' did then 'deject' her, now feels that the success of her writings appeased 'that uneasy sense of helplessness and insignificancy which often depressed and afflicted her.' Her work gave her some tie to the world. Her intellectual existence, her new life, succeeded to her sympathetic state.

Of her next work, the 'Miscellanies,' not much need be said. Unqualified in her admiration of the author's abilities, Mrs. Barbauld seems to labour to explain the unpopularity of this publication. The toil was not worth the pains. Excepting the _Letter to a New-married Lady_, and _Three Essays_, the contents of this volume did not authorize the distinction to which friendship conceived it to be entitled.

Her long epistolary controversy with Richardson, respecting 'Filial Obedience' generally, evidences great superiority of thought. It extends to three letters; of which the first is dated October 12, and the second November 10, 1750; and the third, which is her last, bears date the 3d of January, 1750-51. Perhaps Miss Carter was not far from the fact, when, as now appears from one of Mrs. Chapone's Letters to her, she called this controversy 'an unmerciful prolixity upon a plain simple subject.' Still it is, in such hands, of much worth. Differing from Richardson in some essential particulars, Mrs. Chapone, young as she then was, magnanimously promulgated, and resolutely defended, her own sentiments. Authority seems to have been here considered by Richardson as synonymous with what most men think tyranny. Parents were to be despots, and children to live as their bond-slaves. Obligation is reciprocal. Subjection necessarily supposes protection; and paternal authority has the best claim to filial obedience, where benevolence endears dependance, and where conduct demands respect. Goldsmith told no more than truth, when, as his Essays will show, he declared that there were parents who got children for the gratification of tyrannising over them.

Mrs. Chapone had the gift of letter-writing. When she writes to her few friends, it is with ease, with sense, and with life. She does not then write for the press. She read much, thought more, and wrote as she thought. Many of her judgments, both of men and books, deserve to be weighed.

The last years of life, it is painful to add, were not her best years. Surviving those by whom life was to her rendered estimable, unshaken as was her religion, her mind, it is acknowledged by friends, yielded to its afflictions; 'her memory became visibly and materially impaired; and her body was so much affected by the sufferings of her mind, that she soon sank into a state of alarming debility.' She who bore with 'calmness and composure' the death of a husband, of him whom she calls 'the man of her choice,' felt that she lost on the death of a brother, 'her strongest tie to this world,' and 'sank into a state of alarming debility!' Where the treasure is, there also will the heart still be found. Sublunary happiness is at the best uncertain as unstable; and those whose plans of good are made for this earth, will see, sooner or later, that they have built on the sands instead of the rock.

Contracted in circumstances, and limited in the number of her friends, Mrs. Chapone, with her youngest niece, retired to Hadley, in the autumn of 1800; where her living near to Miss Amy Burrows[13], who had been there for some years, opened new prospects of comfort for her rapidly declining age.

It was now that Mrs. Chapone needed all that the most affectionate assiduity could do for her. 'Mrs. and Miss Burrows,' continues the short account by her family, 'were her constant visitors; and while they surveyed, with compassion and humiliation, the awful lesson to nature which the wreck of so bright an ornament to it presented, they omitted no opportunity to administer every soothing means of relief she was then capable of experiencing.' Mr. Cottrell, also, successor to the Rev. Mr. Burrows, at Hadley, and his family, with their friends, sometimes enlivened the solitary seclusion to which she was doomed; but her infirmities augmented so much, at this time, that she was not able to go down stairs more than three or four times.

Her life was near its close. October 1801, she completed her 74th year; and on the Christmas-day following, without any direct illness, having described herself as unusually well the day before, and after experiencing less distemper during the last than any of the years of her life, she fell into a doze, from which nothing could rouse her; and at the eighth hour of the night, she drew her last breath, tranquilly and imperceptibly, in the arms of her niece. Mrs. Burrows was also with her.

Mrs. Chapone is not represented as one who had pretensions to what men term beauty. If, however, any credit is due to the opinion of Richardson, who knew her in her best days, and who could judge of the sex, there was in her something of physiognomical fascination, that bright emanation of soul, illuminating the countenance, which, candid and benign, gave to the face its best charm.

Music was one of her delights. Naturally possessing a voice both mellifluous and powerful, with much true taste, and great accuracy of ear, she, without the aid of science, would often surpass the efforts of professional excellence. Aided by her brother[14] on the violin, her singing frequently astonished those who were the highest judges of that talent.[15]

Accomplished in deportment, intelligent in conversation, uniformly agreeable to society generally, her company was coveted by all who knew her, and sought for by numbers of persons with whom she never associated.

Physical infirmities were to her the source of habitual misery. Cold and wet seem to have been too much for her frame; and, by the medium of that, for her mind.

With all her faults, for some there were in her, she was still great. Her life may teach much that it will be well to learn; nor can too much be said in praise of her best work.

Mrs. Chapone holds out one bright proof of what intelligence and perseverance may in due time hope to accomplish. She cast her own lot. Herself made herself; and to the honours of her name, great as they are, those who tread in her steps may yet aspire.

Considering the high importance of her literary exertions, no task would have been more pleasing than that of bestowing unqualified approbation on her character. Her writings, already productive of good the most extensively beneficial, will stand the imperishable monument of her worth. While the sentiments which they inculcate are valued, and the language in which they are conveyed is known, while virtue is loved, or piety revered among us, the 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind' will suffer no diminution of that reputation in which they have been so long held by the world.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] 'I am at present engaged with a most admirable young lady of little more than twenty, Miss Mulso, on the subject of Filial Obedience and Paternal Authority, &c. Miss Mulso is a charming writer, &c. Your ladyship will be charmed with her part of the subject.' _Richardson to Lady Bradshaigh, 1751._

'I have been engaged in a kind of amicable controversy with my honoured friend Mr. Richardson, which has occasioned letters of so immoderate a length between us, that I have been quite tired of pen and ink, and inexcusably negligent of all my other correspondents. Does it not sound strange, my dear Miss Carter, that a girl like me should have dared to engage in a dispute with such a man? Indeed I have often wondered at my own assurance; but the pleasure and improvement I expected from his letters were motives too strong to be resisted, and the kind encouragement he gave me got the better of my fear of exposing myself.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, March 1750._

This correspondence is dated from October 1750, to January 1751.

[2] 'I shall still find in her (Miss Mulso is writing _to_ and _of_ Miss Carter) that amiable condescension, and unreserved benevolence, which endears her conversation, and enhances the value of her understanding; which teaches her how to improve her companions without appearing to instruct them, to correct without seeming to reprove, and even to reprove without offending.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, September 11, 1749._

'It is impossible not to be better, as well as happier, for an intimate acquaintance with _Miss Carter_; take her for all in all, I think, I may venture to pronounce her _the first of women_!' _Miss Mulso to Mr. Richardson, July 24, 1752._

[3] 'I think I read the 'Rambler' with great attention, yet I cannot entirely acquit him of the charge of severity in his satires on mankind. I believe him a worthy humane man; but I think I see a little of the asperity of disappointment in his writings.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, October 1752._

'I am very unwilling to believe those that fright us with shocking pictures of human nature, and could almost quarrel with my very great favourite, 'The Rambler,' for his too-general censures on mankind; and for speaking of envy and malice as universal passions.' _Ibid._

[4] 'I thank God, (Canterbury, August 29, 1757,) my best soul has now the upper hand, by the assistance of medicine and cool weather, much more than of reason; and perhaps by the hope of two or three days of fancied good, in the presence of a _fancied essential_ (Mr. Chapone) to my happiness, who has promised to come down and see me some time before the middle of next month.'----'I shall now tell you something of myself, who live here (Salisbury, John, the second brother to her, being then its Prebendary) uncorrupted by grandeur, &c. &c. &c. who could prefer _a little attorney_ (Chapone) even to my Lord Feversham; had he offered to me, instead of the fair young lady he has so happily won.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter._

[5] 'Nothing can ever make me amends for that luxurious ease and security, in the kindness of all around me, which enables me to wrangle, abuse, and dispute, till I am black in the face,' &c. &c. _Mrs. Chapone to Mr. Burrows, 1773._

[6] 'It has always been one of my prayers, that I might never be the wife of an overgrown scholar.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, 1754._

[7] Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, edit. 1801, pages 93, 94.

[8] 'I have been very near death; and, at the time he threatened me most, it was the most earnest wish of my heart to meet and embrace him. But, I bless God, I am restored not only to life, but to a sense of the great mercy indulged me in the grant of a longer tern of trial.'--'You are so obligingly solicitous about my circumstances, that I would willingly inform you of the state of them, if I had any certainty about them. But my dear Mr. Chapone's affairs were left in great confusion and perplexity by his sudden death; which happened just at the time of year in which he should have settled his accounts, and made out his bills. As these are very considerable, his estate must suffer a great loss from this circumstance. At present, things are in a very melancholy state, and my own prospects such as would probably have appeared very dreadful to me at any other time.' _Mrs. Chapone to Miss Carter, December 6, 1761._

[9] King George III. and Queen Charlotte; his present Majesty, then Prince of Wales, and sixteen years old; Prince Frederic, Duke of York, then fifteen years old; Prince William, Duke of Clarence, then thirteen years old; Princess Royal, now Queen of Wirtemberg, then about fourteen years old, and Princess Augusta, then about ten years old.

[10] Addressed by Mrs. Chapone to her friend Mrs. Carter.

[11] 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind.' They had been published five years then.

[12] This young lady, of whom the reader must wish to know more, was the eldest daughter of Mrs. Chapone's second brother, John, who was Prebendary of the cathedrals of Winchester and Salisbury. She became attached to this niece in 1766, while on a visit at her home; wrote the Letters, to her, in 1772; and, stimulated by her literary friends, published them in 1773.--'I had great satisfaction,' writes Mrs. Chapone to Miss Carter, November 1797, 'in seeing my darling niece established in the happiest manner, at Winchester, with husband (Rev. Benjamin Jeffreys) who seems in every respect calculated to make her happy.' Mrs. Chapone passed the autumns 1797 and 1798 at the Deanery at Winchester. Here she awaited the approaching accouchement of her dearest niece, which was destined to terminate one or her fondest hopes. This last joy of her life, this child of her heart, was now torn from her, after the birth of a dead infant, in March 1799.

[13] Of the family of the Burrows's, who were her tried friends, 'I am glad,' writes Mrs. Chapone to Miss Carter, July 31, 1761, 'that you love my Burrows's, who are, indeed, some of the most valuable persons I have ever known.----Poor Miss Amy (who was her last prop!) is still complaining, and consequently her sisters are anxious and unhappy.----I wish you were to hear Mr. Burrows preach. There is a simplicity and an earnestness in his manner more affecting than any thing I ever heard from the pulpit.' Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Elizabeth Burrows, two of the sisters mentioned in this place, together with Mr. and Mrs. Burrows, died before Mrs. Chapone's final retreat to Hadley; so that 'out of that amiable and happy circle with whom she delighted to associate, and on whom she relied as the sources of the most refined enjoyments, only one sister, the present Mrs. Amy Burrows, remained to bestow on her that heartfelt consolation which this inestimable friend never failed to administer.' The houses of Mr. Burrows, with his wife and two younger sisters, and of his eldest sister, wife of Sir Culling Smith, Bart. were long her favourite asylums, and the hours spent by her in them were among the most happy of her life.

[14] Edward Mulso. 'Since you went,' (Miss Carter had just left the then Miss Mulso,) 'I have done nothing,' writes Mrs. C., 'but sing Metastasio's song. I am distracted for a tune that will go to the Translation, that I might sing that, from morning to night. I have made _Neddy_ walk with me to the tree, by Sir _Edward_ Hale's park; and intend often to reconnoitre the spot where you sat by me there.'--'Your friend _Edward_ is with us; and we make a pretty little concert at home, pretty often,' &c. &c.

[15] The following compliment to the vocal powers of Mrs. C., though high, appears to be ingenuous. Dr. Kennicott, relating the University Festival, at Oxford, in a letter to Richardson, dated Exeter College, June 9, 1754, observes--"The first clap of applause was upon _Forasi's_ taking her place in the orchestra; _Signiora_ seemed a little too sensible of the honour, &c. But I forgive her; for indeed _she_ sings--I cannot say _most_ delightfully--for have I not heard Miss _Mulso_?"

LETTERS ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE MIND.