Part 9

Thursday at home all day. In the evening walked in the garden. The evening was uncommonly fine. The moon shines brighter in Salem than anywhere else; here too is an elegant garden, full of fruit trees, the walks kept as nice as possible, and shaded on each side by plum trees; very handsome summer house where we sat an hour or two. Rambled in the garden all the evening, which was the finest I ever saw, so very light, that, as Shakespeare says, “’twas but the daylight sick, only a little paler.” There is something in a fine moonlight evening exquisitely soothing to the soul. I have felt as if I could melt away with the exquisite enthusiasm of my sensations. We were called into the house and found Mrs. West, a sister of Mrs. Derby’s; but more of her by-and-bye. Friday Dr. Coffin arrived, and Dr. Lathrop and Hasket Derby dined with us and set out for Boston.

The following letter, written by Martha Coffin, Eliza’s most intimate friend, and descriptive of a visit that she paid to Salem, will be found of interest.

June 29, 1800.

My dear Ellen:

I have never told you all about my visit to Salem. I passed my time as you may imagine very charmingly, and had I your pen or your talent at description I would endeavor to give you some ideas of the house, the gardens, and the farm; but it is _Impossible_.

_The Hermitage_ more than answered my expectations. It is everything which we see described in novels, and which I thought was not to be found in reality.

The garden beyond description beautiful, does indeed exceed anything of the kind I ever saw. Ten thousand different kinds of flowers from all quarters of the globe. Fruit of every kind in abundance. A delightful Summer house in the middle of the garden, furnished quite in the rural style; and from the chamber where they sometimes drink tea is the most beautiful prospect you can imagine.

M. COFFIN.

Salem, July 14, 1802.

Dear Mother:

I have just received my trunk with the letter and key. I perceive you have not received my letter by Mr. Jewett. Fear not, my dear Mother, tho’ gay and volatile in my disposition, I feel that I shall return home with the same sentiments with which I left it. True, I was in the midst of gaiety and splendor such as I never before witnessed, yet a something within whispers true happiness resides not here,—in this family all is calm contentment and peaceful pleasure. Mr. Derby is everything his best friends can wish him, and the whole family consider him as every thing good and benevolent; he truly is so, and appears one of the finest men I ever knew. How is Uncle Porter’s family? I cannot even now reconcile myself to the idea of leaving them so unexpectedly and so immediately, yet I know not how it could be avoided. I am in the midst of amusements and pleasure, they drive all melancholy reflection from my mind, but when alone, my feelings warmly pay a tribute to the merit of _our departed Moses_; yet I cannot,—do not realize, every thing contributes to make me think it a delusion, a mere dream; how is it possible I can realize it? Yet sometimes I feel it is, it must be true. How soon do we reconcile ourselves to the loss of the dearest friends; what would most distract us in anticipation we meet with calmness when it approaches; strange, unaccountable. I surely loved Moses with sincerity. I knew of no person so distantly connected whom I felt so interested in,—yet he is dead,—he is gone, and I can speak of it without emotion, and I am called. Adieu, I will write soon.

ELIZA.

JOURNAL.

Saturday, July 11, 1802.

We rode out, Ellen and myself, with the three boys, in a hack. Went to Danners—Parson Wadsworth’s, to see Mrs. Rickman’s children; took them in to ride; came down by the mills and went across to Hasket Derby’s farm,—all the cherries gone,—rambled about the gardens an hour and returned home,—charming ride; the country round Salem is delightful, altho’ ’tis situated rather in a plain, ’tis surrounded with beautiful hills, handsome trees, ponds, brooks, etc. We got home at dusk and found Mr. Coffin just returned from Boston. Mrs. Hasket Derby sent a great basket of cherries and her compliments, she would come over in the morning. I wished very much to see her, she had been gone 5 weeks to the Springs. I had heard Martha say much of her and wished much that to-morrow could come.

Next morning—Sunday—went to Meeting. Mr. Dana of Marblehead preached; very devout, unaffected young man; saw not a soul I had ever seen before, excepting Mr. Grey; thought I should not have known him as I scarcely saw his face before. Found Mrs. Hasket Derby on my return, was disappointed in her personal appearance; instead of finding the elegant, majestic, beautiful creature my imagination had pictured, I beheld a little, short, plump woman dressed in black, a coarse complexion and anxious eyes, yet I had not been in her company an hour without confessing to myself she was the most agreeable, fascinating woman I ever saw. She continually pleases and delights you; she appears to live for others, nor ever bestows a thought upon herself, yet so perfectly unconscious of it, that it seems inherent in her disposition, and to flow without any effort. She planned parties of amusement as I was a stranger, and we fixed upon Friday for a fishing party to Nahant; sent to Boston for some to meet us. Monday a small party at Mrs. Derby’s came to tea. I rode in the chaise with Mr. Grey. Mrs. Grey and a Mr. White, an Englishman, in her carriage. Mr. Coffin and Miss Grey in another chaise,—Mr. and Mrs. Hasket Derby. We walked on a hill near the house, where we had the most extensive prospect I ever saw—the whole world seemed spread before us covered with the richly variegated carpet of nature. We returned home in the evening with a fine moon, and all went to Mr. Grey’s to spend the evening. Most charming time; treated with great attention by Mrs. Grey, who is, in my opinion, a fine woman, domestic, fond of her children, and never so happy as in contributing to their amusement, and possesses fine sense, animated, unceremonious, and agreeable.—Tuesday, Doct. and Mrs. Coffin and Mrs. Sumner came down from Boston; dined together, and all went to Hasket Derby’s farm in the afternoon. Mrs. Grey and Miss Bishop of the party; glad to see Miss Bishop—one of my old school-mates. Had a most charming ride; went in the carriage with Mrs. Grey. All returned to Mr. John Derby’s and spent the evening. William Grey and his father came in the evening; walked in the garden.—Wednesday, large party of gentlemen to dine with Doct. Coffin. In the afternoon all went to Mrs. Grey’s; danced in the evening. Miss Bishop plays and sings charmingly. Thursday, Doct. and Mrs. Coffin went home, and in the afternoon went to Mrs. Hasket Derby’s with a party; every thing elegant and pleasant. Friday to Nahant, fishing—Mr. and Mrs. Hasket Derby, Mr. and Mrs. John Derby, Mr. and Mrs. Hersey Derby, Miss Bishop, Mr. Grey, Mr. Coffin, and myself, Miss Heller, Mr. Prince, who looks very much like Horatio, and several others. Met there some smart Boston beaux,—Mr. Amory Parkman, Turner, etc., etc. Spent a most charming day; caught but few fish, and very warm, yet pleasant notwithstanding—set out for home just as the sun was setting. I returned in the chaise with William Grey, Frank with Miss Bishop,—rode 2 miles on the beach, the tide down, sun just setting; ’twas charming and delightful. Saturday went out to Hersey Derby’s farm to tea, went to the bathing house, summer house—and saw the Rumford[28] kitchen—elegant place, beautiful children,—rainy afternoon, we could not enjoy the pleasures of the country so well. Sunday—went to meeting and to tea with Mrs. Hasket Derby; met company from Boston,—two beaux, Mr. Lee and Mr. Davis. Monday—a party of young ladies at Mrs. Grey’s; danced in the evening, went home at eleven, spent half an hour at Hasket Derby’s on my way; Ellen was there. Tuesday—rode out with Mrs. Grey after dinner, returned and drank tea with Mrs. Lambert, found company at Ellen’s on my return—Mr. and Mrs. Hasket Derby, Hersey Derby and wife, Mr. Prince and wife,—Patty Derby that was—looks like old _Madame Milliken_[29] very much. Mr. and Mrs. Hasket Derby wish me to go to the Springs with them; know not what to do. Ellen says go by all means, never will have such another opportunity; she thinks my Father and Mother would not object if I had time to write them, which would be impossible, they go to-morrow—what shall I do? I must go over after breakfast, I will consult Mrs. J. Derby. I would not go for the world if I thought my Father or Mother would not be pleased. Mr. and Mrs. Derby go alone in their carriage. I must think of it.

Wednesday, Salem, July, 1802.

What will you say, my Dear Mother, when you find I am gone with Mr. and Mrs. Hasket Derby to the Saratoga Springs? But I hasten to explain all. Mr. and Mrs. Derby were going in their carriage alone. Mrs. Derby says she never travelled without some lady, and urged my accompanying her. I thought ’twas only a compliment and treated it as such, but when I found she seriously wished it and her husband joined his influence, I began to think how it would do. I consulted Ellen and Mr. Derby, and they both thought I ought not to refuse an opportunity of seeing the country which perhaps may never again occur—a better one surely can never occur. To go with Mr. and Mrs. Derby is surely an advantage I can never hope to meet with again. Believe me, nothing would have induced me to think of going with them unless they had been very urgent. Ellen and Mr. Derby both say they doubt not you would approve the plan if you were here to consult. If I did not think so myself nothing would induce me to go—still I regret not having it in my power to wait an answer from you, but to-morrow afternoon we must set out. Ellen has lent me everything necessary for my journey,—indeed I can never repay her. She is the most generous being I ever saw. She has nothing in the house but is at my service,—all her handsome dresses she wishes me to carry, indeed everything that I can possibly want she has supplied me with. I am glad that I shall not be compelled to purchase anything that would be unnecessary after my return. I think I shall borrow some money of her, as it is impossible I can receive any from home, and if I do not need it, I need not spend it. You may assure yourself I shall remember to economise as much as possible. It seems as if Ellen and Mrs. Derby tried which should most oblige me. As I never determined to go till this morning, Mrs. Derby said ’twas impossible to make any new clothes, nay unnecessary, and insisted I should take any thing of hers I should want, but Ellen would not admit of that. I know not the route we shall take, but Mrs. Derby says we shall probably _go_ or _return_ thro’ _Leicester_.[30] I shall be gratified very much at an opportunity of seeing our relations there. Ellen promises to write. I never was treated with more attention in my life. Ellen heaps me with favors, and now I have thought of this journey, she thinks she can’t do enough. I intend keeping a particular journal while I am gone, which you shall all peruse on my return. We shall probably be gone four or five weeks, as it is two or three hundred miles from here. When you write me direct your letters to Salem and Mr. Derby will forward them as he will know where we are. Has Octavia returned? tell her I shall leave my Salem journal to be sent to her the first opportunity. If I go thro’ Newport I shall endeavor to find out Miss Crary and Miss Clarke, and wish I had a letter from her.

And now, my dear Mother, assure me you approve of my going and I shall have nothing to trouble me. My Father, I think, would not object to it if I could know his opinion. Mr. Grey (Wm. Grey) says he is sure he would not disapprove of it, if he knew in what good protection I was. By-the-bye, I have received every attention from Mr. Grey’s family, and Mrs. Grey is a remarkably fine woman. I rode out with her yesterday afternoon, and she sent for me to go to Wexham pond with her this afternoon; called to excuse myself and tell her of my projected journey; she regretted it as I was to have gone to Medford with her the next week, and she had planned several parties for me which would be frustrated; but she acknowledged I was perfectly right to go, and if ’twas her daughter she should be much gratified at the opportunity. Mr. and Mrs. Derby say I must tell you they will take good _care_ of me and they shall take the full protection of me. Write me soon, or request my Father or Octavia; but pray if you disapprove, do not tell me till I return, ’twill be too late to alter or retract, and I should be wretched if I thought you disapproved my going,—do write, or ask my Father, I shall feel uneasy. My love to all friends, and believe me, with great affection, Your

ELIZA.

Francestown (New Hampshire), July 26, 1802.

My dear Father:

My letter in which I informed you of my intended journey, my motives for it, etc., you will receive before this, I therefore think it unnecessary to say any more, but rest with full confidence on the indulgent heart of an affectionate Father, who I trust knows my heart too well to think me capable of acting in opposition to what I know to be his wishes. We left Salem on Thursday evening and slept at Ten hills in Charleston, breakfasted in Webrion,[31] and dined in Betavia.[32] We had a fine view of the celebrated Middlesex canal, which in future ages must do honor to our country,—such monuments of industry and perseverance raise our opinion of our countrymen; it will be 25 miles in length when completed, running from Deckel[33] to Medford river,—the river of Concord supplies it with water, boats pass every day, and parties of pleasure are always sailing on it. In my journal I have been more particular, here I say but little as we are in a miserable tavern and the horses almost ready. I cannot tell you the route we are going,—Mr. Derby’s motive is to see the most pleasant part of the country that he has not seen before. From Bilusia we came through Chelmsford, Inigsborough where old Irving lived and Miss Pitts, now Mrs. Brimby, the heiress of his fortune has a most elegant tasty country house on the banks of the Merrimack—which forms a most beautiful scene in front of the house and gives a full view of the river in each direction,—more of this in my journal. We are on a new turnpike road, from Amherst to Dartmouth. We shall go up to Dartmouth College as ’tis wholly a jaunt of pleasure, and Mr. Derby is determined to be in no haste, to enquire everything worth seeing and not to mind 6 or 7 miles from a direct road,—they are very attentive to me and have gone a mile from the direct road to show me something they had seen before. Mr. Derby has been such a traveller that he is now one of the most useful travelling companions in the world; his wife is the most engaging, unaffected, family woman in the world, and instead of feeling myself a burden to them, they make me feel of the utmost consequence. We passed thro’ several pretty villages on coming here—tho’ it is almost a new country, scarcely cleared up,—excepting a small village every 6 or 7 miles; the most hilly, mountainous, woody country I ever was in,—here as I look round me I see nothing but enormous high hills, covered with trees and almost mingling with the clouds. One of them in particular—Francestown[34] is about 12 miles from Amherst, a number of pleasant houses and a very elegant meeting-house,—how different from our part of the country!—here, if there is but one handsome house in town there will be a meeting house. I have passed but one on my journey, in these new back places, but what was painted and a steeple! From Dartmouth we go down to Northampton and then to Lebanon Springs, then to Ballstown and Saratoga, and return by the way of New Haven, Hartford, etc. I shall have a fine opportunity of seeing the country on Connecticut River. Mr. Derby does not know the route he shall go, but shall depend on what he hears; we shall go thro’ a part of the States of Vermont, Connecticut, and New York, so that in our tour we shall be in 5 different States. I shall write very often, and wish you, my Dear Father, to write me by the return of the mail, and direct to Pittsfield in Massachusetts,—or to Mr. John Derby in Salem. If we go thro’ Leicester I shall find out our relations. Tell Octavia and Horatio I shall write them soon, but as I keep a particular journal which they shall all see, ’tis not so material. I hear the carriage—love to all.

ELIZA.

Ballston Springs, August 22, 1802.

My Dearest Mother: