The Power of Sympathy. Volume I 9780231896429

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THE FACSIMILE TEXT SOCIETY PUBLICATION

NO.

38

T H E POWER OF SYMPATHY BY

W I L L I A M H I L L BROWN I

W I L L I A M H I L L BROWN

THE POWER OF SYMPATHY Reproduced from the First Edition WITH

A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL

NOTE

BY MILTON

ELLIS

VOLUME

PUBLISHED

I

FOR

THE FACSIMILE TEXT SOCIETY BY COLUMBIA NEW

YORK:

UNIVERSITY

PRESS

M'CM'XXXVII

PRINTED

IN T H E

U N I T E D STATES O F

AMERICA

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE The Power of Sympathy was published late in January, 1 7 8 9 , by Isaiah T h o m a s and Company, of Boston. The Independent Chronicle o f January 22 carried Thomas's advertisement, beginning: T h i s D a y Published THE

POWER

THE

OF S Y M P A T H Y ,

TRIUMPH

OF

OR

NATURE

T h e First American Novel An identical advertisement began in Thomas's Massachusetts Spy, at W o r c e s ter, on January 29, and in the Boston Gazette, on February 2. T h e wording in the Massachusetts Spy changed to " L a t e l y Published" on February 12, and a f t e r February 16 the advertisements disappear. T h e w o r k was issued in two small duodecimo volumes, the first "ornamented with a copperplate frontispiece," executed by the engraver Samuel Hill. T h e price was nine shillings, bound in calf and let-

tered, and six shillings, stitched in blue paper. T h e New York Public Library copy, reproduced in this reprint, has the contemporary binding with a red label on the back of each volume, without lettering except f o r the distinguishing figures i and 2. T h e page dimensions, kindly furnished me by M r . K . D . Metcalf, are 63/4 by 4^4 inches. The Power of Sympathy seems to have been little noticed and soon forgotten. Aside from advertisements and two puffs in the Massachusetts Magazine, also published by Isaiah Thomas, the present writer has found it mentioned in print only five times in 1 7 8 9 , only twice between 1 7 9 0 and 1 8 0 0 , and not at all during the fifty years following. There is thus no basis f o r the assertion occasionally made that its appearance aroused a storm of protest in the press and the pulpit, as a result of which it was suppressed. According to the testimony of Mrs. Rebecca Valentine Thompson, niece of the author, the latter, 011 realizing the distress caused to his neighbors, the Apthorps, by his inclusion of Letters X X I I - X X I V , paralleling the details of a

recent scandal in the Apthorp family, readily consented to have the general sale o f the novel stopped and the unsold copies destroyed. This, by arrangement with the publishers, was doubtless accomplished. O n l y t w o or three o f the copies known to the present writer bear any marks o f contemporaneous ownership. Most o f the extant copies, perhaps not over twenty in all, may go back to the dozen fresh copies reported in the Boston Transcript o f M a y 2, 1 8 6 7 , as discovered in an old trunk. T h e novel was twice reprinted in 1 8 9 4 , first, "verbatim, et literatim et punctuatim by Cupples and Patterson, Boston, under date o f June 19, prefaced with an " E d i tor's Introduction" by W a l t e r Littlefield. In October o f the same year, Arthur W . Brayley, then associated with Littlefield, began printing it serially in his Eostonian Magazine, ending with the succeeding April. The Power of Sympathy was issued anonymously. T h e f e w contemporary references to the supposed writer use the masculine pronoun in speaking of him; one

calls him an "amiable youth"; and one, in alluding to him, substitutes five dashes for the letters of his name. For over a century his family kept his identity secret. In the meantime attention was recalled to his book by a chance remark by Joseph Tinker Buckingham in 1 8 5 0 , in his Specimens of Newspaper Literature. Boston antiquarians, becoming interested, eventually fixed upon the poetess Sarah (Apthorp) Morton as the probable author. This, despite the fact that she—the " M r s . M a r t i n " of The Power of Sympathy—was sister of Fanny Apthorp ( " O p h e l i a " ) , whose suicide had occurred less than five months before the novel appeared, and w i f e of Perez Morton ( " M a r t i n " ) , the alleged seducer of Fanny. T h e ascription was not made in print, so f a r as is known, before 1 8 7 8 , when Francis Samuel Drake, in his History of Roxbury, mentioned Mrs. Morton as the author. Drake's unsupported identification was repeated with increased assurance and embellishment by other historians until in 1 8 9 4 Littlefield, in editing the novel as the work of Mrs. Morton, referred to her as the "self-acknowledged author," an as-

sertion wholly unjustified by the facts. 1 In the autumn of that year, while the novel was appearing serially in Brayley's magazine, Mrs. Rebecca Valentine Thompson, then about eighty years old, broke the long silence regarding her uncle's authorship. M r . Brayley visited Mrs. Thompson, was convinced of the accuracy of her account, and completed the remaining installments under the author's name, prefaced in his December issue by an article on " T h e Real Author of The Power of Symfathy." This real author was William Hill Brown, 1 7 6 5 - 1 7 9 3 , of Boston, whose work included a series of verse fables and other poems, the Yankee and other series of essays, a tragedy and a comedy, and another short novel, published in 1807 as Ira and Isabella. This novel is of particular interest in connection with The Power of 1 F o r detailed and documented discussion of the problem of authorship, reference is made to pages 3839 and 1 0 9 - 1 1 2 of Philenia: the Lije and Works of Mrs. Sarah Wentworth Morion, by E m i l y Pendleton and M i l t o n E l l i s ( O r o n o , 1 9 3 1 ) ; and to " T h e A u thor of" the First American N o v e l , " by M i l t o n E l l i s in American Literature, J a n u a r y , 1 9 3 3 , pages 3 5 9 - 3 6 8 .

Sympathy since it represents a second—or possibly an earlier—attempt to deal with the same plot, a threatened incestuous marriage resulting f r o m an earlier seduction. But the conclusion is made a happy one in which the already married Isabella, corresponding to Harriot, learns that she is not, as supposed, the half-sister of her husband Ira, the counterpart of Harrington. M . THE

UNIVERSITY

October,

1936

OF

MAINE

E.

T h e S T O R Y of OPHELIA.

T H E

POWER OF SYMPATHY: OR,

T H E

T R I U M P H OF N A T U R E . FOUNDED I N

T

W

O

IN V

TRUTH. O

L

U

M

E

S

.

V O L . I. F A I N would he ftrc.v Life'« thorny W a y witli F i o e t r i j And open to your View Elyiiari Bowers.; Catch the warm PaiF.ons of the tender Yc-jth And win the M i n d to Sentiment and T r u t h .

PRINTED

a BO ST

ON,

i5Y I S A I A H T H O M A S AND COM P ANT Y. Sold at i l n i r Biokftore, N o . 45, N t i v s i i n v

S n i t t .

And at laid TIIO.IAS'S Gookftore in W C I C E I I U -

MDCLLXXIIX.

TO

T HX

YOUNG

LADIES; O F

fttatteD Columbia,

TO£UJt£S, Intended to reprefent the fpecious C A U S E S , A N D

TO

Expofe the fatal C O N S E Q U E N C E S , O F

S E D U C T I O N ; T o infpire the FEMALK MIND

W i t h aPrinciple c f S E L F C O M P L A C E N C Y , AND

TO

Promote the E C O N O M Y o f H U M A N

LIFE,

9tc 3infcrit>e«j, W i t h Efleem and Sincerity, By their F r i e n d and H u m b l e S e r v a n t ,

BOSTON, Jan.

,789.

JTut thofe i.i the way cf young pcrior.s, w h i c h m i g h t leave on their minds any d.lagreciblc. p t a judicss, or which has a tendency to corrupt their m o r a l 3 . " — A s obvious as your remark i s , " aJ.dcc! M r . 1Linus,

" it is evi-

dently overlooked ir, the c o m m o n courfe of education.

W e wifely exclude t'.iafe pea-

fons f r o i r e u r ccnverfatio:), v.hofe characters are bad, whole manners are depraved, er vi hofe morals are impure , but if they a;>e excluded from r.n apprclieni'on of contaminating our minds, how m u c h more danger• u s is the company of thole books^wheretbv

C F

S Y M P A T H Y .

41

the ftrokes aims J at virtue are redoubled, and thepoiien of vkc, by repeatedly reading the fame thing, indelibly diihins the '/oilp.a; niincl r" / W " WE all agree," rejoined IF;rtby, " that it is as great a matter of \ irtue and prudence to be circumfpect in the felection of our books, as in the choice cf our company.—• But, Sir, the beft things may be fubverte! to an ill life.

Hcr.ce we may pclubly

tracc .¡ic caufc cf the ill tendency of many of the Novell extant."

"

MOST

of the Novels," interrupted rry

father, " with which our female libraries are overrun, are built 0:1 a foundation not els rhecd on ftrict morality, ?nJ in t'.i©.D z

purf.iit-

TBI

POWER

purfuit of objefts hot alftrays probable op praifeworthy—Novels, not regulated on the rfiafte principles of true frtendThlp, rational Jove, and connubial duty, appear to me totally unfit to form the minds of women, of friends, or of wives."

" BITT, as moil young people read," fays Mrs. Bcurn—" what rule can be kit upon to mike fiudy always terminate to advantage r

impossible," cried Mifs, " for I read as much as aay body, and; though it may ¡¡fiord aaaufw-ment, while I am employed, I ¿a-not remember a Ungtc word, when I lay «Iowa the Leak," «

TH

u

or

SYMPATHY.

* THIS confirms what I fey of N o v e l s / ' cried M r . Helmts, sddfvfllog Worthy iai&i jocular manner,," juft calculated to kill time ,—to attract the attention-of the reader for an hour* but leave not one idea, on the. mind»"

* I AM fat from condemning every PROduction in the grof»/' replied. Worthy* ; " genera] fitire againft any particular- d a f t , • r order of men, may be viewed in the fame light at & iatire agtinft the^>ecieS—it is the t i m e 'with books—If there are- corrupt ®r mortified members, it is hardly fait to dcflroy the whole body.

N o w I grant fomc

Novels have a-bad. tendency, yst there are many which contain,excellent fentiments— fefc t b d c receive tlveir, deferved reward—Jet ihofc

THE

POWER

t h o f e b e difcountcnanced ; and if it is impoffible " to fmite t h e m with an apoplexy, there is a moral certainty of confumpticn."

their dving of a

E u t , as M r s . Bourn c b -

ferves, rr.ofi y o u n g perfor.s read, I will therefore recommend to t h o f e w h o v i i h to min gle inHruclion with entertainment, method and regularity in reading.

T o dip into any

look b u r t h e n s the m i n d with

unneceilary

lumber, and may rather be called a difadvantrge, than a b e n e f i t — T h e

record of

m e m o r y is fo fcrawled and Wotted w ith im perfect ideas, t h a t not one legible character can be t r a c e d . "

"

AVERE

I to throw my thoughts on this

f u b j e i i , " ' faid my good father-in-law, as lie began to enter more wr.rmly into the deb;.-;-.-. —drawing

Or

SYMPATHY.

45

—drawing his chair oppofite Worthy,

and

railing his lianJ with a poética! e:i;hu r iafm — " W e r e I to throw iny t h o u g h t s e n f u b j e i i into an Allegory, I would

this,

dekribe-

t h e ' u m a n mind as an cxtcniive plain, and knowledge as the river that ikou'cl water it. If the c o u r f e c f tlie river be pvcpeily directed, the p l a ' i will be fertilized and

cultivat-

ed to advantage ; but it beo'es, which are Liie fourcss that feed this river, r u i h i n t o it ¿pin

every quarter,

it will overflow its

banks, and t h e plain will b e c o m e i n u n d i t cd : W h e n , therefore, knowledge flows on in: its proper c h a n n d , this extenfive and valuable field, tlie m i n d , initead of being coveted w i t h f h g n a r . t waters, i s c u l t i v a t s J to tlie utinort advantage, a m i b l a a m s

luxuriantly

¿dio.a general eiflorefeence—for a riyer p r o -

46

THE

rOWEB

perly reftri&ed by high banks, is necefiarily progreiSve,"

THE oM gentleman brought down his hand with great folemnity, and we compli.iwnted him on his poetical exertion.

"I

cannot comprehend the meaning of this matter," laid the penetrative Mifs Bourn. " I will explain it to you, toy little dear," faid he, with great good nature—" If you read with any dfciign to improve your mind in viitue and every amiable! accompiiihment, you fhouid be careful to read methodically, which will enable you to form an eftimare of the various topieks «Kfeufied in company, and to bear a part in all thofe conversations which belong to your fex—you fee, there•fore, how ncceflary general knowledge is— what

OF

SYMPATHY.

47

what would you think of a woman advanced in life, who has no otherltoie of knowledge, than what ihe has obtained from experience " I THINK ihe would have a forry time o f it

anfwered Mifs.

« TO prevent h in, yourfelf," iaid M r s . Bourn to her daughter* ** be aftiduous to lay in a good ftock o f this knowledge, while your mind is yet free from prejudice and care." " HOW (hall I go to work, M a d a m , " enquired the delicate daughter. MRS. Bourn turned towards M r . Holmes, which was hint enough for the good old man to proceed. «• T H E R E

THE

POWER

" THER.E is a medium t o be obferved, continued he, in a lady's reading ; ihe is not to receive every thing (he finds, even in the beil books, as invariable Iciluns of cond u i t ; in books written in an eaiy, flowing ftyle, which excel in defcription and the luxuriance of fancy, the imagination is apt to get heated—ihe ought, therefore, to difcem with an eye of judgment, between the f u perficial and the penetrating—the elegant and the tawdry—what may be merely amufmg, and what may be ufeful.

General

reading v- III not teach her a true knowledge of the woriJ.

thee, tlwA- the god» of thfr Qanaanites—In' character and underftanding they are alike—«yes have fheyy but they fee not—ear« have thty+ but they heir not, neither is there any knowledge to be found in them."

" It is hard-

ly worth while to beat it into them," faid my father-in-law," fo let us follow thecom— p«if WE did fo—they walked towards the houfe, and Worthy and myfelf brought up the rear. i COULD n o t b a t r e m a r k , 24 v e w e n t o n ,

tbatMifs Bourn had ipoken the fentiments of many of her ten j.—" »nd whence," faid I to IVurthyi "ariCesthiadeteftatioaaf books iv fonu of -Ufcfemaies, and wkv are they eneF z

miefr-

65

TflE

POWER

mies to any thing that may be called fer.timent and converfatjon : I grant it often happens there is fuch rapidity of fpeechet that one may be at a k>fs to diftinguifh t h e fpeake n ; but why is there fuch a calm f.lence, fhould an unfortunate fentimant inadvertantly

" tv/HL

tell you," interrupted he, " Y o u

all read, and it is from the books which engage your attention, »'hat yoti generally imbibe your ideas ot the principal fubjefts r ' f cufied in company—now the books which employ your hours of ftudy, happen to be Novels , and the fubjtils contained in thefc Novels are c?:..tnoni< confined t o dref>, balls, vifitirg, ar^d thx. like ,'drfyirrg topidcj-; dois it not follow, that tiicfe m«ft b ; the fubje&s of

o ?

s

Y

r.r t

A

-r fi /

(if

of your cony erf:; tier. ? I will not diipiit? whether the Novel .n-kes the v.oman-, cr the *oman m3k.es theNove! ; or whether they are written to engage your attention. or ffottrr your vanity.

I believe the refult will

/hew they depend, in fome rneafure, upon each other ; and an uninformed woman^ by reading them, only augments the number of lier futile ideas.

The female mmd^ not-

withft ending, is competent IJ any tafk, ar d th* accom*riiihrnerits of an ele gant woman deu petid on a proper cultivation of her int«!l'!gent powers j a barrennefs—afterilkycf «onverfation—.immediately d'.feovers where this cultivation ia wanting.' "GIVE

me leave," anfwered I, " to «f-

poufe the caufe of this clafs of females. Tell ir.t

68

T>H £

FO V 1 K

m e candidly, M r . fVnrthy, whether that- litlipid flattery, perhaps facvifked at the ex-' penfe of truth, does not mifguide many of u« into erroneous paths I Y o u dcclare we are hafidfome—and your conduit d e m o n ftrates you to be more felicitous for the poffeilion of beautiful, than of mental charms,. Hence is the deluded- female perAiaded of the force- of her fafcinating powers, and vainly imagines one glance of her eye fuf— ficient to reduce a million of hearts whenever ihe. choofes : Her aims, therefore, areconfined tbe ancient poets are very entertaining. Worthy is delighted with the eafe and freedom with which we live here.

We have

little concerts, we walk, we ride, we read, we have good company—this is Bellevinu in all its glory ! ADIEU,

20

T H I

POWER

ADIEU, my dear—I (hall continue tfus fubject no longer, though! flatter myfelf you would receive my hints with fatisfadion, botaufe you muft be perfuaded I love you, and fo ihtereft myfelf in your welfare—T need not add that I thiofc your conduit worthy of you.

You ate Aich a good girl that I know

not in what to dire& you ; for you leave me no room for advice—continue to anticipate the defires of my heart, and to fecure the high opinion you have there obtained. You/ friend forever!

U T T E K

O.-T X

1

»VHP»T8T. T T E R.

Mrs. H O L M E S

to

» XXXI.

M Y R

A,

IIllIVI«*'.

I F the affair T>f your brother and Harriot be fcrious, and matrimony is really on the tapis, do not fail tQ make me prtuitufty acquainted with it

1 very much

doubt the evidence of the verfes—they weigh

in my mind—and he is eafily

excufed for fending them to fo fine a girl as Harriet. YOUR obfervations on her dependence on Mrs. Francis do honour to your heart—virtue does not confift in affluence and independence—nor can it be reflected on us by the glory of our connexions—thofe who O A

pride

OS

T U T

F O V I I

pride themfclves- on it, make but an Indifferent figure j for in the eftimation of all ftnfible people—true merit is perionaf. HOWEVER, my dear friend, as one who wlfhes for your welfare and the happinefs of your family, I advife your to difcourage the propofed connexion—and if

you cannot

undertake this difagreeable tafk with a certainty offuccefs, do not fail to acquaint me of it Jpeedilv. Adieu !

L E T T E R

or

i-riiPAiir.

l e t t e r

XXXII.

H A R R I N G T O N to W O R T H Y . BOSTON.

w

H A T ail* my heart ? I feel

a void here—and yet I verge towards my happinefc—for a few days makes Harriot mine—Myra fays I had better ntt marry her. What could prompt her to ufe fiich ail expreffion ? Better not marry her.

She has re-

peated it feveral times—and with too much eagernefs—I give no heed to it—and yet why (hould it affedl me in this manner ? Is it an artifice to fathom the depth of my love ? Suchfchemes are my utter averfion—• it difturbs me—I hate fuch artifice—You canpot imagine how it touches my heart. Adieu ! 1ETTER

•4-

f i l J. z

M * t |

T T E R

3CXXUI.

firs, H O L M f i S tq M Y R A . BILLITHW.

I T is theduty of FRIEND» to be in* fcrcfted m sll the ooiKenp of one another— to join in their joys and to avert the ftroke o f danger.

It is the duty of a ceutinel to

five the alarm at the approach of what he may think fuch*—»nd if the refalt does not prove to be a real evil—he has but performed his duty, T O M .

X F I N D my temper grow extremely irritable—my fallibility is wounded at the flighteft ncgleS—J am very tenacious o£ crerything, and of every body. A PARTY

was made ydterday to go on

die water; I was omitted, and the aegleft hurt me.

I inquired the caufe, and what

think you is the anlwer ? " I am no com" pony—I am aiked a queftion and return nothing to the point—I am a b f a j t — I am K

Arangely altered within a few days—I am

9

thinking of a different fubjeft when I

u

ought to be employed in converfation—I " am

«6

»»•

»ewrn

w

am evt&vagant in my ©Wervitlons—I

u

am no company." THEY

would periiiade me that I am little

better than a mad man—I have np patience w«th their nonfenfical replies—Such wifo acres do not deferve gny pity> Farewd i .. -i»»n

«

t i t t l R WYRfLiU

2UCXV.

Mzf. H O L M E S » B0»T01#.

Y O U R letter is filled with fuck ambiguous expreflions, that I am utterly at rlofs to difcover your meaning:. r bavb

OF

LYMTATIIT.

27

x HAVE, however, founded him on the article of marriage, and the refult k — h e Joves Harriot mod paffionately- —and on account of my father's averfion to early marriages, will marry her privately in a few days. THE oftener I read your letter, the more J am perplexed and aftonifhed: CT YOU A T A L E T O UNFOLD"-—For

HAVE

Heaven'« fake

then unfold it, before it be too late—and as you dread the confequence of keeping it fecret, by difclofing it to me, you will prevent ihe mifchief, you fo much deprecate : m all impatience. Adieu!

Z

E

T T E R

1

THE

r o w i l

L E T T E R

XXXVI.

H A R R I N G T O N to W O R T H Y . VOITOlf*

I H A V E jiift left

Harriet—but

how have I left her ? In tears. had not gone.

I wiih I

Mrs. Francis had intruded

Harriot with fome trifling com million—It was not done---ihe had not- had time to perform it.

Harriot was reprimanded——

Yes ! by Heaven—this Mrs. Francis had the infolence to reprimand Harriot in my prefence—I was mortified—I walked to the window—my heart was on fire—my blood boiled in my veins—it is impoifible to form an idea of the diforderof my nerves— Harriot's were equally agitated—Mrs. Frany m y window to z fpring to fetch water. P

She

33

THI

POWER

She had fomething in her air fuperiour to thofe of licr Ctuation—a fire that the damps of ilavery had not extinguiihed.

AS I was one day walking behind her, t h e wind blew her tattered handkerchief from her neck and expofed it to my fight—I aiked ¡her the caufe of the fear on her ihoulder— -She aofwered compofedly, and with

an

carncftnefs that proved ihe was not aihamed t o declare it—" It is the mark of the whip," /aid ihe, and went on with the hifiory of it, without my defiling her to proceed—" my boy, of about ten years old, was unlucky •enough to break a glafs tumbler—this crime «.vas immediately inquired into—I trembled for ihe fate of my child, and was thought to foe guilty.

I did not deny the charge, and was

OF

was tied up.

S Y M P A T H Y -

3*

M y former good character

availed nothing.

Under every affliflion, we

may receive confolation ; and during th« finart of the whip, I rejoiced—becaufe I Shielded with m y body the laih from my child ; and I rendered thanks to the beft of beings that I was allowed to fufferfor him."' W

HEROICALLY

fpoken !" faid 1, " may

he whom you call the bell of beings continue you in the fame fentiments—may thy foul be ever difpofed to

SYMPATHIZE

with thy

children, and with thy brethren and iiiters in calamity—then ihalt thou feci every circumftance of thy life afford thee fatisfaftion; and repining and melancholy fliall fly from thy bofom—all thy labours will become eafy—all thy burdens light, and the yoke of flavery will never gall thy neck." I

WAS

32

THE

P OVt E it

i WAS feniibly relieved a s I pronounced thefe words, and I felt m y heart glow with feelings of exquidte delight, as I anticipated the hsppy time when the fighs of the Have lhall no longer expire in the air of freedom. W h a t delightful fenfations

arc thofe

in

vdikh the heart Is interefted ! In which it lloops to enter into the little concerns of the n-.oft remote ramification of Nature ! Let the vain, the giddy, and the proud pais c n without deigning to notice them—let them cheat themfelves of happinefs—thefe are circumftances which.are important only to afentimental traveller.

HAIL. Senjibtfity ! Sweetener o f the joys of life ! Heaven has

implanted thee in the

lorcafls of his children—to foc.the the fotraws of

or

sr

M

rA

33

T TT Y .

of the atfli&ci—to mitigate the wounds of the Granger who falleth in our way.

Thou

regardeft with an eye of pity, thofe whom ••-•jfahk and ambition treat in terms, of reproach. Away, ye feekers of power—ye boaftcrs of wealth—ye are the Levitt znA the

Pbanjle,

who reflrain the hand of charity from the indigent, and turn with indignation from the way-worn fon of mifery :—But Senfibility is the good Samaritan, who takeih him by the hand, and conibleth him, and poureth wine and oil into his wounds.

Thou art a pleaf-

ant companion—a grateful friend—and a ntigbbour to thoic who are deftitute of ihelter.—— From thee! Author of Nature ! from thee, thou inexhauftible fpring of love fupreme, P 2-

foweth

34

THE

POWER

Eoweth this Aide of affection and s y m p a t h y — t h o u whofe tender care extendeth to the leaft of thy creation—and A'hofe eye is aot inattentive even though a fparrow fail t» the ground.

L E T T E R Mrs. H O L M E S

XXXVII. to M Y R A.

i i i m r t w , 12 t'clccl at right.

I C A N N O T reft

this affair

lies fo heavy on my mind, that ileep flies from my eye-lids.

Your brother mvji dif-

ecntinue his ¡uld.-efles to Harriot

with

what ihould I not have to upbraid mvfelf, if,, through my remilToefs-—your broxher merries his fifler ! CHEAT

O.T S T U P A T H T . GREAT God !

JJ

of what materials haft

thou compounded the hearts of thy creatures ! admire, O m y friend ! the operation of NATURE—and the power of S T M T A THY ! HARRIOT

IS YOUR S I S T E R f I d l f p a t c h

the bearer at this late h o u r to confide in y o u r b o f o m the i m p o r t a n t fecret.

Adieu ! o not imagine, my tlear Myrat that I mean ts argue againft all pleafare—Many o f us fet out on a principle of faHe delicacy and deAru the Rio.

Mr. HOLMES. IMTtR^ M Y heart failed mei twenty times have I attempted to break the matter to my ion—and twenty, times have I returned from the taik—I have engaged a friend to acquaint him how nearly conne&ed he already is with the obje& of his love.

T h i s is a

new, and to me a forcowful inftance of ths fbrceof SYMPATHY—My grief is infupport-» able—my afllidion is greater than I can bear—*it will bring down my grey hairs with fbrrow to the grave.

Farewel I1ITTEH

86

THE

POWER

L E T T E X

XLIV.

H A R R I N G T O N ta W O R T H Y . lOITOK.

my airy fuhemes of love and happinefs are vaniihed like a dream.

Read

this, and pity your unfortunate friend. To

"

Mr.

T.

HARRINGTON.

SIR,

" Y O U are about to marry a young lady of great beauty and accompliihments—I beg you to beftow a few ferious thoughts on this important bufmefs—Let me claim your attention, while I difclofe an affair, which materially concerns you—Harriot muft not be your w i f e — Y o u know your father is averfe to your early connecting yourfelf in marriage with

OF

SYMPATHY.

87

with any woman—The duty we owe a parent is facred, but this is not the only barrier to your marriage—the tiesof confanguinity prevent it—She is your

SISTER

•

Your father, or Mifs Harrington,vi\\\ inform you moce particularly—It is fufficient for me to have hinted it in time.

1 am, with

the mod perfect efteem, and fincere wiihes for your happinefs, your "

UNKNOWN FRIEND, &C."

(IN C O N T I N U A T I O N . )

T H E gloom of melancholy in the faces of the family but too well corroborated this intelligence—fo I aflted no queftions—they read in my countenance that I had received the letter, and my fifter put into my hand The Htftory of Maria—\ concealed my emotion

88

T HI

POWER

tion while I read the account—" It is a pit« iful tale,"iaid I, but it was of ihort duration—and was fucceeded by pangs of exquftite diflrefs —nature was unable to fupport it, and (he fainted under the weight of the fevere conflict.

Her conflihition at beft is feeble; her

prefent illnefs is therefore attended with •more danger—Unlefs a fpeedy alteration U

ffiould

93

THE

P O W E R

fhculd take place, the phyfician has little hopes of her recovery.

Heaven preferve

us ! Farewel!

LETTER

XLVI.

H A R R I N G T O N to W O R T H Y. »osTd»!.

I HAVE feen-her—I preft her t o my heart—I called her my Love—my Sifler. Tendernefs and forrow were in her eyes— How am I guilty, my friend—How is this tranfporta crime ? My love is the moil pure, the molt holy—Harriot beheld me with tears of the mod tender affettion—" W h y , " £iid ihe, " why, my friend, my dear Harrington,

OF

S Y M P A T H Y .

91

rington^ have I loved ! but in what manner have I been culpable ? HOW WAS I TO K N O W YOU W E R E M Y B R O T H E R

?—Yes F

I might have known it—how elfe could you have been fo kind—fo tender—fo affe&ionate !"—Here was all the horrour of conflicting paffions, exprefied by gloomy filence— by ftifled cries—by convulfions— by fudden floods of tears—The fcene was too much for my heart to bear—I bade her adieu—my heart was breaking—I tore myfelf from her and retired.

WHAT

is human happinefs ? T h e prize

for which all firive, and fo few obtain ; the more eagerly we purfue it, the farther we ftray from the objeit : Wherefore I have determined within myfelf that we increafe in

92

T H S

P O W E R

in mifery as we increafe in age—and if there are any happy they are thofe of thoughtlcfr childhood.

i

then

viewed the world at a diilance in

perfpedlive.

I thought mankind appeared

happy in the midft of pleafures that flowed round them.

I now find it a deception,

and am tempted iometimes to wiih myfelf a child again.

Happy are the dreams of in-

fancy, and happy their barmlefs purfuits ! I faw the ignis fatuus, and have been running after it, but now I return from the fearch. return and bring back difappointment.

I As

I reSeft on thefe fccnes of infantine ignorance, 1 feel my heart interefted, and become feniibly affefted—and however futile thefe feelings may appear as I communicate them to

or

s • ««»PATHY.

t o y o u — t h e y are feelings I v e n t u r e t o aflert w h i c h every one m u f t h a v e experienced w h o is pofieiled o f a heart o f fenfibility. Adieu !

l

e

t

t

e

H A R R I N G T O N

r

XLVII. to

W O R T H Y . BOSTON*

X N O

longer receive fat is faction

f r o m the enjoyments o f the w o r l d — f o c i e t y Is diftaileful t o m e — m y favourite authors I have entirely r e l i n q u i i h e d — I n vain I try to forget myfelf, or feek. f o r c o n f o l a t i o n — m y repofe is interrupted by diftrefling vifions o f the n i g h t — m y

thoughts

are

broken—-I

cannot even think regularly. U

2

HARRIOT

94

THE

POWERr

HARRIOT is very weak.—there is no hope of her life. Adieu ! — fttoocoeOQooooow— L E T T E R XLVIII. H A R R I N G T O N to W O R T H Y . BOSTON.

M Y

dear- friend, I have a gr»at

defire to fee y o u — I wiih you could come home fpeedily—I muft be i h o r t — I have fome ferious bufinefs to do. Farewel! P. S. T H E Y fay fife is a bleffing and it is our duty to improve 2nd enjoy it j but when life Becomes infupportable and we find no blefllng in it---have we not a right to r?fign it T Farewel ! J. E

T T

s rt

• r L

iyjip AtHr.

B T

T

I

R

qg

XtI3T.

The Hon. Mr. HARRINGTON to the Rcu* Mr. HOLMES. n t T O K .

A c c u m u l a t e d

fomws

continue to break over my devoted head» Harriet is at times deprived of her reafon, and we have no expectation of her recovery—my fon is deeply affected—he feetns ftrangely difordered.. REVOLVING

in my mind all thefe things*

and the unhappy affair that led to them* the whole train of my pail life returned freih upon my mind.

Pained with the difagree*

able pi&ure, and opprefied with the weight ef my affliction, I liink down to ikep : Thefe

q6

THE

» 0 WEIt

Thefe circumftances had fo Wrongly impreiT. ed my imagination that they produced the following Dream—My blood is chilled with horrour as I write. m e t h o u g b t ' I fuddenly found myfelf in a large, open field, wafte and uncultivated— here I wandered in a folitary oxanjier for iome time—grief feized roy heart at the awful appearance of the place, and I cried a loud—" How long lhall I travel here, alone and friendlefs—a duiky mift fwims before my fight, and the obfeure hori7wn feems only to inclofe this difinal wild !" Having advanced a few fteps, I thought a light at a diftance appeared to my doubtful view.

Faint

with fatigue, I approached it, and had the (atisfaiiion to behold a perfon of the moil benign

OP

S Y M P A T H Y .

97

benign afpe£t—a quiet ferenity was painted on his brow» and happinefs ineffable beam* •d from hi* divine countenance—Joy leaped in my bofom, and in the ecilacy of paffion I endeavoured to clatp the blefled fpirit to my heart ; but it vaniihed in my e m brace.

(
F

H U I A T B T .

047

A SAW my beloved—her eyes were yet keavy and fmarting with weeping for the death of Harriet—and this, once the houfeof joy and cheerfulnefe, is turned into the houfe of mouraing.

My unfortunate friend had

juft then fallen into a calm ileep, and it was impoffible to fee him—it was what I very much defired—but it was the wiih of the family that I "ihould defiit for the prefent— he had not flept the evening before—he had boeti heard walking acrofs his chamber all the night, with!tttl4 intermiifioo, oftentimes talking to hinafelf in a paflionate tone of voice. THIS

melancholy account deeply affe&erf

Hie—and I parted from my beloved,praying Heaven to give her confolation, and to be the fupport of my difordered friend. IT

C%8

T B I

I 9 V E 1

IT is with difficulty I bring myfeifta the 4crioifs and painfal empi&yment of being the informer of unwelcome tiding» my hesert feds the woand—vainly it tells me my fnend is no more—my hand refatfbuitly traces—my frienfl—my Harrington is no more. SAKVV

this morning I was lurpri&d with

4 vifit front a gentleman, whom I had formerly feen at Agw«'»—it was die £us< neigbboor whe iirfcrmed Harrington of hi« affinity to Harriet—he found a difficulty aft his utterance—he told me, with trembling Hps, my yoang friend Harrington was dead— « He has killed himlel^" Taid I—lie aiked me if I had heard the news—I told him my heart prefaged it. WHIR

«F

I T U f ATHTi

14)

WHtN any uncommon «vcnt hoppcns- to »», we often have a prefentimcht of it-^-Thc -«ircumitances of his deaih are thefe :—At midnight-the gentleman heard the report of the pift