USA > Connecticut > Litchfield County > Litchfield > More chronicles of a pioneer school, from 1792 to 1833, being added history on the Litchfield Female Academy kept by Miss Sarah Pierce and her nephew, John Pierce Brace > Part 12
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Oh! who can love the sweetest flower, That only blooms and breathes an hour? If it expire with one gay gleam? 'Tis not the intenseness of the light, But constancy that gives delight. I'd rather have the hardiest flower, That grows in Greenland's icy bower; That breathes no fragrance o'er the snows,
But blooms untouch'd while winter blows. Than all the charms that warmth can give, If but a day the flower must thrive.
This is a fair specimen of my best poetry at that period.
The poem "Hill By The Bantam" was given to Laura Farnham of Cooperstown. She commenced school in 1815; she was a large framed, overgrown girl of fifteen, then, as big as any body. In consequence of the religious efforts I made for her, during the revival of 1815, she became most violently attached to me. She was a respectable scholar & stood high in school. She left in Nov. 1816. In the summer of 1819, she returned again. She had hardly commenced her labors, when she was taken with bleeding at the lungs, went home, died, in a few months.
The Blue Hills of my native state How oft have I, in life's young morn, Mounted those hills with boyish tread; And seen the dark grey mists adorn, In tresses gay, their sun bright head; Nor thought, that e'er life's noon roll'd on, Around my peace, the mists of hate Would cling as those that hung upon The blue hills of my native state.
Page 102 Aug, ? 1816.
Dear is the vale beneath their crest, For home, and friends, and all, are there, That give life's feast the sweetest zest, And shade its cup from bitter care. Hills of my home! where e'er he stops, Such beams the sun can ne'er create, As those that gild your cloud capt tops, Ye blue hills of my native state.
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The moon, as oft she sees yon lake, Silvers its waves with hue as bright As is the track that angels make, Descending in a cloudless night; Clear is that lake, as is the cup That purest joys on earth create, While it reflects thy long lov'd top, Thou blue hill of my native state.
Cold is the world in which I rove; For me, there beams no kindly fire; But still, at home, the blaze of love Burns bright, and never will expire. What if, when toss'd on life's rude sea, My bark is driven by storms of hate, Yet one dear spot still feels for me, The blue hills of my native state.
Page 103
It has been frequently published. First in Bigelow & Holley's American Monthly Magazine, & the Catskill Recorder etc etc.
Page 105 Oct. 3, 1850
"The little brown stone", as it has always been called, was copied by Caroline Chester of Hartford. She was a good scholar and quite a favorite. I speak of her "as much distinguished for fine taste and stubborness of character". She married, late in life, Hon. Harman Knickerbocker of Schaghticoke, who had been a member of Congress. She still lives in that place.
The piece was much admired at the time and published in many places. The friend, who gave the stone, was Henry Sheldon the Dr. Fill of early times. I have the stone yet in a little red box that con- tains the relics of my bachelor days.
It was considered as one of the best pieces I ever wrote, by many of my early friends.
Sept 4, 1816 3Misc. 169
To a stone from the Island of the Lady of the Lake, given by a friend who had visited Loch Katrine. *:
Thou little brown stone! oh what hast thou seen,
Since the flood roll'd thee up, on thy island so green! How many vast ages have travell'd thee o'er,
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But to the hill - On June 17, 1815, (while the battle of Waterloo was in preparation!) I found in my walks, a hill east of the Bantam, among the woods, with a beautiful quiet little prospect at its feet. June 23 a large party, with Aunt Mary and others, Ann Brace etc went with me to see the hill. Among the rest, was an uninteresting Dutch girl by the name of Maria Hoffman.
P. 101
It was copied by Mary Sherrill of Richmond, Mass. She was a good scholar & most excellent amiable and well principled girl. She married a clergyman by the name of Dwight, and settled, I believe, in Richmond. I think I had heard she was dead. The handwriting is very peculiar. It is in what was then called the "Wrifford" style, which consisted in taking off the pen at the end of every stroke. It was a very fash- ionable hand in 1813 and onward, but no one could write fast in it.
Oct. 3, 1850.
"Farewell to The Hypo" was copied by a very good and kind hearted girl from Albany, by the name of Amanda Keeler. I have no knowledge of her history.
The "October Evening" was copied by Ruth C. Benedict of Albany, who was two years and a half with me, and became a distinguished scholar. She was a large girl of her age with rather a plain appearance, but possessing all those qualities of "warmth of feeling and singleness of heart" which I then worshipped. She was the sister of Louis Bene- dict who has been quite a Whig leader in Albany. I have never seen Ruth since 1817. She continued unmarried for many years. Six or eight years ago, she married Hon. Micah Sterling, a widower of some twenty years older than she, who died very soon after their marriage. He was a brother of Elisha Sterling of Salisbury & Ansel Sterling of Sharon and had been a member of Congress from New York.
The poem "To My Sister on Her Birthday" was copied by Aunt Mary. There was quite a celebration of this birthday of Ann's and this was my tribute. My brother Abel leaving home when I was eleven and he nine years of age, it flung Ann and myself more together for many years. She was my confident & my sympathiser in all my troubles & joys.
Ann P. Brace's character was of very slow growth. When young and during my college life, she was indolent and seldom roused to mental effort. Her memory was poor, her mind slow, and her imagina- tion feeble. When I took the school in 1814, she was then just en- gaged to Charles G Loring of Boston, whom she married, & was then taken under the immediate care of Aunt Mary, and resided at
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Miss Pierce's. Aunt Mary's judicious training out of school, and the exertions of Aunt Sarah & myself in school, soon made her a good scholar, of uncommon strength of judgement and keeness of apprecia- tion. She possessed an infinite fund of humour, was a capital comic actress, and had the keenest sense of the ridiculous of anyone I ever met with, save Emma Brace. Few could have recognized in the pol- ished, quiet, rather formal Boston lady, the fun loving girl. She mar- ried in 1818 and died in 1836.
Mary S. Wells of Lawville, N. J. and Ruth Benedict are mentioned. He refers to his short engagement with the beautiful & talented Mary W. Peck 1 of Litchfield.
One of the marks of my life has been "kindness of character". My old boarders & other inmates remember that, even when they forget my instructions.
Eliza F. Wadsworth was in school during the summer of 1816 and the winter of 1818. She was an excellent scholar, sister of James & Anna W. She had the first prize, winter 1818. I do not know what became of her.
Referring to the poem "From the Man in the Moon to one of his votaries". This piece was copied by Cornelia G. Lothrop of Utica, N. Y. an excellent scholar and a very amiable and lovely girl. I do not know her history. She had a sister, afterward, in school by the name of Frances. They were connections of President Kirkland of Harvard College. There is a brother of their's now a preacher in Boston. A paper having been established in Litchfield, called the Litchfield Journal, I wrote very much for it. Among other things, I sent anony- mously some articles signed "Horace in Litchfield".
" America"
Deep sleep fell on me, in the hour of night,
And with my sleep, the spirits of the dead,
In all their awful forms, were hovering near:
Shades that when living, held the helm of state, In revolutions wildest, stormiest days.
With all the strength that eloquence can give, They came t'unfold the future to withdraw The curtain that conceals from mortal view, Th' expected greatness of America.
Me thought, my eyes from every film were clear And all my country splendors rose in sight, Thro' the long vista of futurity.
At first, twas one confused blaze of light,
1 Mary Peck married Edward Mansfield.
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Like the reflection of a summer's sun Upon the broken mirror of the lake: Columbus' wand then calm'd the busy scene, And show'd the limits of this wondrous land, From moist Atlantic's early peopled shores, To where Columbia rolls his western stream, Who long had wander'd in the silent wood.
With not an eye to trace his dark blue path, Amid th' eternal forests of his banks; From Mississippi's mouth and Mexico, To Winnipec's cold lake and icy hills, Did one unbroken hum of voices rise, And one continued, cultivated scene, In all its variegated colors, bless the eye. No more the Spaniard chaf'd our Southern coast, The sea alone, there, dar'd to raise his arm, But rais'd in vain, for calmly on his breast, In conscious pride, one strong ship brav'd the storm Britain, no more, upon our northern front, Plac'd the red tomahawk in a savage hord. Within the centre of a mighty state, In peace, Ontario stretch'd his giant back, Nor fear'd to be arous'd from sleep, by roar Of British cannon, or of savage yell. Upon Missouri's wave, the white sail gleam'd, Frequent as now upon the crowded stream Of busy Thames and Mississippi's banks, Cover'd with cities, smil'd in richest dress. No stream then boasted that its foam was free, For all had felt the lash of trade's proud oars; The rapid had been tam'd; the cataract Now, feebly, pour'd its flood upon the plains; The rocks were clear'd; the sandy bars remov'd; And not a river dar'd to disobey, Except Niagara; no power could tame That savage king of cataracts, uncheck'd He's reigned for ages, on his rocky throne: Gone, is the savage hut upon its brink; The wild deer, too, that started at its roar; And all those birds that flapped the fearless wing, Amid the storm-like spray, are found no more. Alone, it beats against its rocks, and stands Like some huge column in Palmyra's streets,
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Unperishing, 'mid universal death. With all this great extent, stretching o'er half The western world, how will our country wield The destinies of Europe in her hands,
The sea, her empire; and the earth, her range. The most, that holds her flag, could proudly tell The native woods, firm as they stand, she stood. Britain's "fast anchor'd isle", before our power, Swong from her moorings, and was lost amid The ordinary nations of the earth.
Nor did the trump of fame, in loudest notes, Proclaim alone her greatness and her power. "Mistress of learning" was the name she bore. The silver sounds of poetry were heard In all her groves, sweet as the nuptial song, That birds of summer chant, in roseate bowers. Learning, and art her handmaid, then, had left The worn out coast of Europe, and had rais'd Their empire in the western wilderness. But still there was, a brighter, fairer tint Which shone upon this picture, like the light In Moses' face, that glow'd, where God had look'd. It was the light the gospel sheds on those Who have embrac'd and trusted in the Cross. The rivers roll'd a purer stream; the air A milder breathing gave; the earth with fruits, In rich abundance, blest the laboring hand. America! my dear lov'd country, hail! The last and greatest empire of the world! How will thy fame be echoed thro' the earth! How bright thy name, on history's page, shall shine 'Till history's last page be finished And Time's broad stream be stagnant in its course.
It is curious as a prophesy in 1819 of what the nation now is in 1850. I see there is no prophetic intimation, however, of railroads & tele- graphs. The "white sails" of commerce are getting rather out of date and Canada is not annexed yet.
I was married Nov. 2, 1819, and from that time I became an every- day, domestic family man.
Towards the close of 1820, I began to write poetry again; and that may be termed the most successful part of my life in writing. It con-
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tains all my long poems, and shows not that I tried to describe my own feelings, but to imagine others. This period extends thro' 1821, and occasionally little further.
Elizabeth Cooke of Litchfield was a great favorite. Her character is told in a few pages, in "Margaret Mix's farewell to Litchfield." She was one of the "Club" Quod vide. She married Richard Stiles Esq. and lives in Morristown, N. J. She was a daughter of the second Mr. F. WolCott. It was published in the Atlantic Souvenir.
M. Mix's farewell was written by request and copied by her. She had been some time with us and boarded at my father's with me and Lucy.1 She was from New Haven. An amiable and excellent girl. I believe her mother removed to the West - I have never heard what became of her.
Margaret M Mixs farewell to Litchfield Oct. 1820 Litchfield farewell! no more thy street
In broad expanse my eyes shall meet No more thy hills of cheerful green Or neat built houses shall be seen
Or sky of ever living blue Or lakes that vie with it in hue.
No more be seen those friends that twine
Their merits round this heart of mine.
Farewell that friend that nearest seen Who shares both waking hours & dreams Whose unsophisticated mind
With strongest powers the heart can bind.
Maria too in whom we find
That inate dignity of mind
That mark her form with all that grace
That worth & innocence can trace.
And Cooke whose emblem is the stream Whose surface shows no brightening gleam But still whose ... [torn page] Calmly & sweetly far below - Mary with feeling quick and bright As flashes of the Northern Light: Whose artless innocence endears. More than the worth of riper years,
1 J. P. Brace's wife.
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And Jane -whose promt & active mind By talents vigerous shoots entwined. Shows promise of the fairest flowers And richest fruits in future hours. And Wolcott o'er whose beaming face Good nature sheds her sweetest grace.
Whose smile is like the glowing west. When every cloud has sought its rest.
When balmy eve its softening blue Has Mix'd with tints of amber hue
Where none can look & calm depart Nor feel the glow upon his heart - Friends of my heart tho' doubly near Yet other friends are still as dear And those now claiming warmer love Which you & Litchfield ne'er can move.
Ann King Jones was a niece of Lucy's, a most amiable, prudent, worthy girl. She lives now, unmarried, in the family of Dr. Edward Beecher of Boston, who married her sister Isabella. I have not seen her for years, but I shall long remember the interest I felt in her.
" Maria" - was Maria Cooke of Litchfield. She deserved these encomiums, for she was very much of a lady. She married Hon. Truman Smith, Senator in Congress, of Litchfield. She died in 1849. Cooke", Elizabeth Cooke whom I have mentioned. I cannot better give the peculiarities of her character than in the opposite lines. It is said, that her mother, upon reading it, burst into tears at the justness of the appreciation, as no one before had done her justice.
" Mary" - Mary Landon of Litchfield. She needs warm praise and a noble appreciation of her excellencies as she was subsequently. There was no one in Litchfield that Lucy & myself more valued. She married a teacher of an academy, Castleton, Vt. by the name of -
Jane" - Jane R. Lewis is well described. She died young, a few years after.
"Wolcott" - Betsey Wolcott of Litchfield, a girl of the most sunny benevolence. She married John P. Jackson Esq. of Newark, N. J. and is still living there. I saw her in 1848, she told me she was then a grandmother. She had nothing of that bright beauty, but the blue eye and white teeth, and amiable smile.
The poem "Northern Light" was written for Mary Landon, and copied by her. It might have had some personal application, as, among "the Club" her appellative was "the Northern Light".
" To Disappointment" was written for Jane R. Lewis and copied
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by her. The recollection of Jane Lewis is very pleasant to me She died in 1820
"To Mrs. - on the death of her child" was written for Elizabeth Cooke and copied by her. It relates to her mother, Mrs. Frederick Wolcott, who had then lost a little boy.
"An Indian Ballad" was copied by Susan Skinner of Middlebury, Vt. daughter of Gov. Skinner. She was an excellent scholar and a great favorite. She is married; but her name I do not recollect. It was published in the N.Y. Mirror, in two parts, under the name of Nootonuc. Under date of Feb. 18, 1821, a letter from Edwin Croswell, Esq. then Editor of the Catskill Recorder, now of the Albany Argus, the following opinion is given. It is to be particularly praised for its correct delineation of the Indian character - a savage, unconquerable, unappeaseable love of revenge, which triumphs over and absorbs every other passion.
In copying "Altawmah," a Poem in three cantos I have been much assisted by a copy made by Miss Pierce of the first Canto. It is strange that Aunt Sarah has such an ear for rhythm in poetry, and writes tragedy blank verse so well, when she has no ear for music, and says she cannot distinguish one tune from another except as they vary in loudness.
The names are mostly fictitious, except the Scahticokes whose remnant still live in Kent on the Housatonic.1 Bears were killed in Litchfield as late as my mother's childhood.
"Ramong Lake" 2 is situated in the town of Warren near New Preston. It is a large and beautiful sheet of water filled with fish, well cultivated and fertile banks.
"Isle of Pines" - the two Bantam Lakes are connected by a deep sluggish stream that runs its whole course thro low lands. It is filled with fish. About half a mile or a mile north of the Lake, the banks were a little higher, and of the shady character which supports a Piney vegetation. This large sandy track was slightly elevated in parts above the neighboring swamps, and, when I was a boy, being covered with large pine trees was called Pine Island. It was called an Island, because a ditch-like stream running into the Little Pond, encircled its Northern part, so that you entered on both its North and South sides over bridges while to the East and West were deep and almost impassable swamps. It was, in my earliest remembrance, a highly romantic place. Paths had been cut around among the pines and evergreens, so that carriages could pass. It was filled with red
1 Indians still there in 1920. - E. N. V.
2 Now called Waramaug. - E. N. V.
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squirrels and partridges & small birds. It was ordinarily dry, so that a ramble among its immense pines and thick laurel underbrush was a favorite and fashionable resort. It was about two miles from the village. It is now all cut down and its beauty destroyed. There is no exaggeration in the poem respecting the gloom of the place.
The hill alluded to at the bottom of the page, is Mount Tom, a round eminence very conspicuous in all Litchfield scenery. Mount Tom! "Phoebus!" what a name for epic poetry!
Panthers were once common in Connecticut or at least, that large animal of the Cat kind, called Catamount or Wild Cat. I remember my mother's telling me that, when she was very small, she remem- bers her father calling her to the door (of the old Red House) one evening to listen to the cry of a Panther, as he called it, on the Northe- Eastern part of Chestnut Hill. This must have been before 1770.
"Marble seat" - The marble quarry of New Preston commences at not more than one mile from Ramong Lake. The Ashpetuc, its outlet, now moves the numerous mills employed in sawing it. It is a basin of primitive lime stone, lying between the granite hills, ex- tending from Kingsbridge N.Y. thro' Connecticut, Berkshire County, Mass. & Vermont to the Canada line.
JOHN P. BRACE HISTORY OF MY POETRY VOLUME III
Page 23 Oct. 17, 1850
At the time I wrote this poem, I had some favorite theories about the expressions of the countenance, the influence of which I can trace, in my descriptions. It was before I meddled much with Phrenology. Page 175.
In the summer of 1821 to please quite a literary, loving school, a school paper was established to be read every Holy-day afternoon. Very many of the scholars wrote for it, as I did myself, and it was very interesting. It furnished the model for one that Catherine Beecher established at Hartford, subsequently, which has since been imitated by all the great seminaries and Colleges. Of course, she ran off with all the credit. The paper was called the Holy-day Recorder.
The edition preserved and bound up among my miscellanies was one copied by some of the young ladies some two or three years after. The original edition was in my hand writing, and is preserved some- where among my papers.
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Page 179.
I cannot exactly ascertain at present when the Holyday was copied Most probably in 1823. Number one was copied by Ann Maria Perkins of Warren, Ohio. She was the daughter of Gen. Simon Perkins. She was a most excellent scholar and writer; stood at the head of the school, and bore off many prizes. She was a great favorite of mine She married John William Allen, son of the celebrated John Allen of Litchfield. He has been a member of Congress from Ohio. She died soon after her marriage and Allen married a Miss Mather of Lyme, who went to school to me at Hartford, Summer 1833.
1850
Dear Reader, sneer not! I am an old man sitting in cool impartial judgment on my early productions, and I believe I shall judge correctly.
Page 191
This number was copied by Frances Ann Brace daughter of T. K. Brace of Hartford. She was an excellent scholar, and what is better, a most estimable girl, upright, amiable, intelligent. She was a very good friend of mine. She married James M. Bunce of Hartford, and has been dead some years.
Page 205
Copied by Martha Austin of Warren, Ohio one of my especial favor- ites. Her subsequent history I am unacquainted with.
Oct. 29, 1850
If ever a man died of love it was Edward Morton. The lady to whom he became early attached was married to another. Morton was present at the marriage, and was never seen to smile afterwards. The lady, it was said, was unhappy in her union, and did not survive, many years. Morton died at Corfu. A portrait of the lady was found in his portfolio, wrapped up in the lines in "Original."
Page 233
It is written to the Club, (Elizabeth Cooke, Betsey Wolcott, Mary Landon, and Jane Lewis) just previous to their graduating, and copied by Elizabeth for the sixth volume of Miscellanies.
Page 239
In the spring of 1823, I returned again to my father's to board with my family. I had not much care, out of school, on my shoulders and grew rather indolent. This lasted till the death of my mother in 1830 when the cares of the family & the farm came upon me. In 1822, I studied Entomology. In 1823&4 I renewed my acquaintance with minerology and altered my minerals to their present form.
(1) LUCY SHELDON'S PICTURE, PAINTED IN WATER COLORS: "HOP-PICKING"
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Page 243
I do not know the hand writing that copied it, but it looks some like Mary Ann Greenfield of Middletown.
Page 247 Oct. 30, 1850
This sketch was copied by Mary M. F. Betts of Florida. She was an excellent girl and a great favorite. She married a M. Lewis of Huntsville Alabama and is I believe, living.
The satire and description were intended for Elizabeth D. Homes of Boston.
Page 249
The hand writing bears a strong resemblance to Martha Austin's who left school Oct. 1823.
Oct. 31, 1850
In my spring vacations, I staid at home to work and fish. In the fall, I journeyed. The fall of 1823, I spent four weeks in Boston copying works and plates from the Cambridge Library on Entomology. Charles' lived in Chestnut Street then. In the fall of 1824, I spent a week or two at New York, where I witnessed the political contests Recommenced my political studies. I was with Charles King, editor of the American who was a cousin of Lucy's.1 In his ofice, I became acquainted with all the New York great men, and thro' the introduc- tion of Col. Gibbs and Torrey, with the learned men. D. Mitchell, Dr. Hosack, Le Conte, Morgan Lewis, etc etc. In the fall of 1825, Lucy & I went to Boston & Portland, where I again saw Dr. J. W. Webster etc
JOHN P. BRACE HISTORY OF MY POETRY VOLUME IV
Oct. 31, 1850
There is some uncertainty about the date of this piece. It was copied by Ann Eliza Bassett of Bridgeport, who was in school for several years. She was a capital scholar and something of a favorite, tho' cold hearted & unamiable. She was a good looking girl much admired. She graduated winter 1824, but remained at school after- ward. The catalogue of winter 1825, I find is gone from 6Misc. There being too many things bound up in one volume. I am uncertain whether it belongs to '24 or '25 - Eliza Bassett married a Hawley of Bridgeport, and now lives in St. Louis & I believe they are poor.
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