Table of Contents
Maria Done to Jenny Lightfoot, November 1771
Rowcliffe fifth day night (15th Nov’br 1771) [By ‘fifth day night’ she uses the Quaker term for ‘Thursday’; the Quakers disliking the pagan-inspired day and month names. MD was at this time 19 years old.]
forgive me this once, my Dear Jenny, tho’ I scarcely know with what face I can ask it or how I can reasonably expect it yet as no one is obligg'd to accuse himself, & every one is, or ought to be allow'd the privilledge of a free born Briton that of pleading their own cause. I will endeavor to excuse for my silence in the best manner I am able. I found on my arrival her Cousin Rutter & Sukrey James. The latter is still with us & the former only left us this after-noon, her amiable Brother fetch'd her, (O! Jenny how can thou be cruel to worthy & engaging a man) but I will take a nother time to talk to thee on these matters, for I must say, my heart reproves, & condemns thy invincibillity.
for allmost a week after I got here my time was so entirely took up with one thing or other that I never had a vacant half hour, and as my Sister Sally wrote the day after, & informed thee I was got safe & well to the end of my Journey, I thought I might on that account better defer it a few days, immediately after that there fell such excessive heavy rains, that the watters were no much out as to render it impossable for any person to get to Carlisle, is not this my Dear Jenny now sufficient appoligy. I think it is & will therefore proceed to give thee some account of my Journey .... my ................ master was well enough, nothing remarkable one way or other. it was near one o clock on third day when I arriv'd at the Kings Arms in Lancaster, where I found Isace [she has two goes at spelling this], who has got there the day before. We got that evening to Kendal, & the Land Lady inform'd me a little before we came in Mrs. Wakefield had sent & shou'd be glad to see me, I felt my Self exceedingly tired & not perfectly well, I therefore sent Isace down with my respects etc & she was so oblidging as to say she shou'd have been glad to have seen me but considering that I must be fatigu'd with my Journey, she excused me. I went to bed immediately after Supper. We were up early the next morning & intended to have rode as far as Shap to breakfast but unluckily we miss'd our way, Isace takeing the wrong turnpike road immediately after we came out of Kendal, we did tollerably well, however, got breakfast at a place Call'd borrow bridge (I think) & got to Shap to Dine, but I will sum up the whole account with telling thee that we arrived Safe at Rowcliffe a little after nine, & surpriz'd them greatly as they did not at all expect us till the night following. I was very much tir'd with so long a ride in one day, but it is now over, & I think of it no more. on Second day night my Brother's arrival occation'd an agreable Surprise. My Sister is quite her self now. He desir'd me to inform thee that Senhouse Jame is in a very good state of Health but said that either he or my Sister wou'd write in .......... time. John Graham & his Amiable Wife .................... day to dine & soon after dinner was over John Holmes made his appearance. I believe .... Sister Bewley wou'd be glad to engage me in th... Common Cause, but poor Sally has allready too many voices against her. what they will all of them make of it in time I know not.
I am not, my Dear Jenny, unmindfull of the half promise, you extorted from me with regard to the Poetry, but indeed, indeed my Friends you must excuse me, a desire of pleasing those Friends whom we greatly esteem & whose approbation we earnestly wish to obtain, can I then think of exposeing myself so verry foollishly. No, No my Dear Jenny thou must not expect it. I leave thee therefore to make every accknowlidgment for me, to thy Cousin Scott that Grattitude can dictate, or her kindness merrit, & doe it in such manner I entreat thee my D’r fr.d. as will let ..... I feell her goodness. Were I to speak my real se...... of that amiable Woman, it might appear to a stranger to border on flatt'ry, & yet, is it nor hard that the honest dictates of the heart shou’d be so miss:constru'd?
How oft in Silent sweet attention wrapt.
Have I with trancport, heard her tongue unfold.
With gracefull energy, the native Charms
Of heavenly Vertue, soft as morning Dews
On earth descends the pleasing Accents fell.
Whilst Radient Truth rose like a nother Sun.
& beam'd refulgent clear from passions mist
With Strongest influence on th' enlighten'd Mind.
Pardon the incorrecttness of these lines, my Dear Jenny & remember they are only fitt for the Eye of a verry Partial Friend such let me please my self in hope:ing my Amiable Cousin will ever be to her unalterably,
affect,
Maria....
Pray give my best respects to Cousin Scott & Cap'tn. Wragg. Shou'd be greatly oblidg'd to the former if he wou'd send my box, by Ashburn who I sopos will be in Liverpoole by this time, as I am at great want of my Cloathes. Adieu.
my Brother, Sisters & Inkey James beg they may be affectionatly remember’d, & Sister Sally desires she may hear from thee soon. I join in the same request.
Maria Done to Jenny Lightfoot, ~January 1772
Miss Lightfoot, (single) at John Scott's, Merchants, Liverpoole.
Rowcliffe, first day night [i.e. Sunday. Certainly before Feb. 21st 1772.]
Yes, my Dear Jenny, I own I have been too blame, that I am an idle correspondent, & scarsely deserving of the kind rememberances Thou has bestow'd on me in my Sister's letters. T accknowlidge at once thy goodness & my own unworthyness of it, yet let me not be more severe, then Just. Neither. The beginning of this lett[er] is so much like one of those Papers that sometimes make their appearance at our prepositive Meetings, that I cannot for bear smileing. The resembleance is indeed verry strikeing, & how shou'd it be otherwise? Their nature, & cause is the same, both intended as humble accknowlidgments of past faillings, & containing sinceare assurances(as far at least as we are able) of amendment for the future.
Will my Dear Jenny accept it, will she again ..... into favor, & Unity a friend to whom she is inexpressa...... Dear, who has her self been the greatest sufferer, & whose Crime (like many others) brought its punishment along with it. May I hope she will kindly forget the past, & rely on the merrit of my, future conduct.
This far, my Dear Jenny, was wrote sometime since. We are at present engag's with a peice of work, in which my Sister Bewley is so very earnest, that she will not allow me to spend so much time in writing as I wou'd gladly do. We are began of working Chair Bothams, but when they will be finish'd I know not. This evening however, John Holmes came, Mr & Mrs Bewley, are good natur'dly gone to Bed, out o'th way & I to my writeing, this is well contriv'd is it not? I dare say Johny thank'd me inwardly for my Complisance. Poor man I cannot say but I pitty, & think him deserving of a kinder return than he has hitherto mett with, but it seems my Sister Sally thinks otherwise, & whilst that is the case, I think it wou'd be much better if J. Holmes wou'd discontinue his visetts. My Brother I am greatly afraid is rather displeas'd at the Contents of thy last letter to my Sister. He never yet has said any thing seriously to Sally, but tis an easy matter to see hes warmly in his friends intrest, yet I am Convinced he wou'd not wish her to act Contrary to her own wishes, that wou'd indeed be a great tho’ an improper Sacerifice, but what the event will be I know not, & will therefore at present drop the Subject.
Today John Graham & his Brother W’m who has been at Brekenhill since the Death of his Father) din'd with us. We expected to have been favour'd with Nanny's Company but the badness of the roads & short days I beleive prevented her. Next first day we have fix'd for a viset to M. Butter, where I sopose we shall spend a week. I will remember my Dear Jenny's request of writing from her fav'rite place, & will then endeavour to be more perticular, & connected for at present I'm in no humor for writing.
We spend near a fortnight at Carlisle & F'rd Dockray neglected nothing that she thought cou'd render the time agreable. During the time we were there Mrs Irwin & Polly Tomson spend a week in town, she din'd and passed the day at Frd Dockrays & we often met in our afternoon Visets, as far as I cou'd observe I thought her a pleasing agreable Woman, but am not much took with the maner of her Husband. Her behavious to Polly Thomson is indeed extrodinary, so circumstanc'd many Woman wou'd doubtless, at time, feill uneasy sensations, probably she may, if so, how great is her merit! What horror dose it not reflect on her Charecter, to be so dayly reminded, & yet to appear so insensable of the faults & Missconduct of her husband is wonderfull.
She kindly press'd my Sister & I to spend a week with her at Moss Side. We gave a half promise, but know not when we shall fullfill it. I shall most sincerely rejoiced when inform'd that H. Hillory & M. Rathbone have got their approaching tryals well over, please to deliver my best respects & most sinceare wishes for their safety, in particular to M.R. I ought to have wrote, but I have been so much engag'd, that I cou'd not well. She however I think need not be inform'd how much I esteem & admire her.
And so you have yet heard nothing from my Cou Ed. neither have I, nor wrot to him since my coming to Rowcliffe but by a letter I rec'd the other day from Peggy Marriott (formerly Rain, Thy Couz Scott is accquainted with her), I am inform'd "that my Conduct has been Censur'd by some at Liverpoole" & further that Roscoe was Observ'd to be verry assidious", how far this is true. Thou art as well accquaint'd as I it seems however that She has been interrogated Concerning it tho' by whom I know not. This inteligence has given me some uneasyness, but not distroy'd my peace, which is not I hope all together dependant on the misstaken opinions of an illjudging World. How happy it is for us that our tranquility has, or ought to have a more permanent basis. Conscious of the rectitude of my intentions, however, my actions may be miss interpreted) I have done nothing in this affair, which now it is past, my heart does not approve. I wou'd be understood of late, at the Commencement of it I ought to have been more Cautious, more Circumspect then I was, if I had more early Consider'd, I might probably have miss’d many anxcious hours, which have since fallen to my lott in this I have Certainly been the greatest suff............
& so Roscoe it seems Calls on you now & .................. to hear it. He Continues to write sometime ................... entertains me in the manner he now dose I shou........ be .......... blame to lose so Valluable a Corrispondent, if there be any difference in his late letters to those I rec'd formerly, the expression I think appears more reserv'd. My Sister Sally pretnds to foretell, but I hope & beleive her predictions will prove falce.
Present for me, every good wish that Friednship & esteem can dictate, to our very Amiable Couz Scott, but my Dear Friends tho' I am ever ready to accknowlidge myself under infinite obligations to you both, yet you name & return which is impossable to be made, at least with any Creditt to my Self. It is my Desire to be excus'd I wou'd not willingly expose my own weakness, or forfeit your Esteem, to obtain any preserve which, will ever be my unceasing endeavour, it is impossable my Praise can add any thing to the merrit I admire, or confer any dignity on the persons I wish to imitate. However if I shou'd chance to write any thing half as entertaining or amusing as Fox & Geese, you may be Assured of having it. It was ten o clock when I came up to bed, & must now be pritty late.
Sally has not yet made her appearance. O! these Men adieu my Dear Jenny, & beleive me to be thy Unalterable affect’n.
Maria Done.
O here she is come. good night.
Maria Done to Jenny Lightfoot, February 1772
Miss Lightfoot at Mr Scott's Mercht in Liverpoole.
Single
Carlisle Feb’r 21st 1772
My Dear Jenny's silence shall not any longer deter me from writing, indeed if I were Conscious of having committed any fault, I shou'd supose & fear that she was displeased with me. I own since my coming to Rowcliffe, I have not been so constant in writing as perhaps I ought & as was my intention when I left Liverpoole, but permit me to say that if in that I was guilty of an error, my Dear Jenny wou'd have done well by a different example to have made me senciable of it, instead of that one single Letter is all I have had the pleasure of receiving since I came here be ingenious, my Dear Friend, & accknowlidge that I have at least as much room for Complaint as thy self.
I promis'd in a letter before I went to Wigton (& to which I have yet rec'd no answer) that I wou'd write again at my return. I intended it, but we were then so verry busy with the Chairs (which are not yet quite completed) that I may truly Charge my Omission on want of time. We had a most agreable viset to Wigton, indeed I cou'd (but for some ifs) wish to spend the remainder of my life there. Mr Clark & his Amiable Wife l was perticularly pleas'd with, likwise the two Mr Yates who dr[ank] tea with us there. Mr Brownsword shew'd us the House he had pitch'd on for our residence, when we thought fitt to Commence Old Maids; in form, but, my Dear Jenny, I have heard some wispers of late, which make me fear our intended scheme will never put in execution. I need not tell thee what these wispers are, if they be true it is unnecessasry - any how, be assured my verry best wishes will Constantly attend thee.
Thou will perhaps be surpris'd when I inform thee that I have found it necessary, for several reasons, to drop my Correspondence with Roscoe. I Gave him a hint of it in a former letter, & to the last in which I plainly told him my intention. I have rec'd, yet, no answer, this resolution was in part, oweing to some inteligence I have re'd from Peggy Marriot, - I found by her letter that many at Liverpoole had Constru'd the Attentions of a Friend into the Assiduities of a Lover, I was I own, & still am unwilling to give up so pleasing & at the same time so instructive a Corrispondent. - but in some Case'ss we are not at liberty to Consult the grattification of our own private inclination, & yet I am unwilling to think, that we ought to make our peace of mind entirely dependant on the Opinions of others, esspecially when those opinions are not founded on truth, nor are the result of a right information, many will Condemn, many will censure the actions of a nother, when they are utterly unaccquainted with the motive that influenc'd them. How unjust, & at the same time how ungenerous a proseeding, yet from what I have said I wou'd not have my Dear Jenny to imagine that I think we ought to pay no regard to appearances or to the Judgement of the many who think they have a right to interfere , both ought Certainly to have some weight but I wou'd wish their power were confin'd within proper limits. The Approbation of thousands & their descissions in our favour, will be found insufficient to establish our happiness, on any permanent bassis, if the internal Language of our own heart Contradicts their opinions, --- & yet even with this Consciosness of the right what numbers in the pathes of rectitude have mett with the thorns of perplexity? but we will hope they will not be permited to wound deep, from this reflection (of which we cannot doubt the truth) that no state or allotment in life is free from disquiatudes of one kind or other & that the imperfection of our Nature will not permit us to enjoy perfect happiness, - but I am I find, without design fallen into the morraliszing strain, I will endeavour however to stop e’er I intrude too far on thy patience.
I find by a letter from P. Marriott, that my Couz. E. Leadbeater is now at Liverpoole. Shou'd be glad to know wether he has enter into business there or if thou knows wether he intend it. I am greatly surpriz'd he has never deliver'd my letters to thy Cousin Scott as he knows his are in her posession - however I am not verry uneasy about them, if he was - but that I cannot beleive) but if he were ungenerous enough to expose them, I do not now remember any thing that need to allarm me. - does he ever visit you? - or are you still intire strangers. - I am rather inquisitive my Dear Jenny - perhaps thou will smile at it. My Curiossity is not, however, of the painfull kind.
My Brother & sister intend for the yearly meeting at Whitehaven, & soon after their return, my Brother will I supose set of for Scotland. My sister talks of giving him the meeting at Edenborough, & going from thence to Glassgow. After they get home my Sister Sally & I shall begin to think of our Lancashire & Cheshire Journey, so thou will see we are for moving about. We intend going by Watter —, of which I have not the least fear as the season will then be pleasant & agreable, shall we not see here before then? or are we to meet at Liverpool? If there be any foundation for some Cirtain report, I supose that will be the most likely - where ever - or whenever it be - to see her any where my Dear Jenny may be assur'd wou'd give me real pleasure
Part of a letter of thine to M. Rutter which she communicated when we were at Wigton, Concerning Jenny Griffies gave me a real Concern. had the invitation that verry deserving Girl rec’d proseeded from my self, it wou'd have been still greater, but as it was from my Sister Bewley I thought it proper to accquint her with it. However if I thought her visit wou'd be in any respect displeasing to my Brother, whatever pain it might have occation'd to my self or however difficult I might have found it I wou'd have endeavour'd by some means or other to have put it by. Her coming is however verry uncirtain, & what I scarcely expect, but if it shou'd happen so, I beleive & doubt not but her conduct will ever be such as will be no discredit to the familly she visets. Mr Griffies has met with miss fortunes (who is beyond their reach) but as far as I know, or ever heard his Charrector was allway good & his action uncensurable. He is a most affectionate Father, & as far as the Observations I have made will enable me to Judge, I never knew a familly live in more Harmony then theirs. My favorite Jenny to a good disposition has many excellent quallities which while merrit is Estimable will ever render her Amiable in th[ose] of true decernment. I will own my Dear Friend, I w......... & uneasy at Wigton - & even at this moment it is difficult[t for] me to restrain a tear - in a little a verry little time the [advan]tages and preheminec which fortune gives one man over a nother will be no more. - in fact what are those addvantages, but as they furnish the means & give us the power of doing good to others, and of receiving our selves the reward of our own benevolence in this light, & with this vien Riches are indeed desireable. In any other they are burthensome rather than usefull, & instead of a blessing are often the sourse of disquietudes (if not misery) to their posessor - such, at least, were the precepts of my Dear & Pious Mother (my father dieing before I was capable of receiving the benefit of his instructions). Such were the Sentiments she endeavour'd to incullcate by every gentle & persuasive argument, join’d to a Conduct Corrispondent to her words. What a pitty is it that that esteem which is due only to real merrit, shou'd ever be paid to a fancied importance, or that our opinion of what Confers true dignity on a Charrecter, shou'd be greatly misled.
The distinctions which are due to an ellevated station of Life are undoubtedly many, but there is no sufficient reason to be assign'd, why humble work shou'd be over look’d, or neglected, especially that root of retir'd Merrit which from an innate principle of Modesty, loves & seeks the Shade, but I have said more than I at first intended on this subject & have only now thy pardon to ask for the length of my letter
Be so kind my Dear Jenny as to present my Dear Love to thy Amiable Cousin Scott & respects to her Husband - my Sisters both Joining in the most affectionate regards to thy self & the whole familly with thy sincere & Oblidg'd
M: Done
Molly Rathbone has I find got a Son, please to give my best love & I most sincerely wish her all the Joy that a Mother ever experienced on such an event. --------
May I not expect to hear from Thee soon?-
Jenny Griffies to Betty Griffies, April 1772 (R.C.2765)
Miss Betty Griffies at Mr Thos Griffies’, Northgate Street, Chester
[note in another handwriting - “Letter from Mrs Roscoe before her marriage to her sister Betty afterwards Mrs Neiss - W.C.R.”]
Rowcliffe April 30th 1772
Soliloquy to Sensibility [by Maria Done]
Dear Sensibility, tis thou and thou alone
And thy soft influence in the human breast
That opens every avenue to bliss.
And ev'n to Grief thou gives a pleasing charm
The tear that falls for others woe – exalts
The feeling Soul, and lifts it up to Heaven!
Tis here we trace thee - Fountain of delight.
And see and feel thy origin divine.
Did not some generous Joys, & generous Cares
Beyond ourselves, for other weal or Woe
Call forth soft Pity, & awake to Life
The beauteous blossoms of humanity;
What were we? Beings without a name.
Savage, revengeful, cruel, and Untam'd. -
to Thee thou great Sensorium of the World,
Thou heavenly particle of Love divine,
We owe the noblest feelings of the mind
Friendship & Love. Two beauteous Sister-twine,
Recieve from thee, their most engaging charms.
Tis thy soft power within Eugenious breast
That heaves the Sigh sincere, when secret grief
Disturbs my Soul; or when the tedious hand
Of lingering Sickness has oppress’d me long
He draws my curtain, hears my piteous tale
Of pains & sorrow: then with softest art
And gentlest skin, pours in the healing balm
Of kind concern & Consolation dear.
Of thee, the parent of all good has given
A portion to the roughest Swain; ev'n he
Bred up to hardship and enur'd to toil
Who never by the pale & Glim'ring lamp
Held converse with the Sages, neer explor'd
The depth of Nature, or trod with painful steps
The paths of Science; he untutor'd rode
Unpolish'd, unimbelish'd, Unimprov'd
By Educations kind in forming hand.
Yet thou sweet power, array'd in all thy charms
Art thron'd within his breast - observe him yonder
As he traverses the bleak Mountains side;
A vagrant Lamb, stray'd from his neighbours fold
Lies dead before him: - doth he still pass on
Unfeeling and unmoved at such a sight;
Ah! ho! soft sighing on his brook he leans
And see behold into his moisten'd eye
Compassion steals - around with anxious care,
He looks for help - "Oh! cou'd I succour thee
Poor harmless creature" then he sighs aloud
In vain the wish - it bleeds - it bleeds to Death
His heart bleeds with it - Peace be to thy Lambs
And to those pastures where they skip and play
May no fierce Wolf invade thy little fold
But still exempt from danger may they feed. —
Happy, thrice happy are thy tender babes
Thy consort too - their Farther - & their friends
Is rich in heavn's most estimable gift
A tender generous sympathizing heart.
--
To convince my dear Betty of my readiness to oblige her have sent the above which I need recommend in no other manner than naming the Author, our dear Miss Molly [Maria Done]. The subject will I know be pleasing, as you have a heart endow'd with a very large share of Sensibility. ‘Tis Essential for our happiness, and yet I don't know - we may possess too much of it, there are many pains attending it, which a Stoical disposition never experiences, but then you will say "is [no] t its pleasures an ample reward for all?" True my dear, I submit entirely to your opinion. I wait with impatience for a letter, but expect I shall hear from you before you receive this, I suppose 'twill meet you at Chester, and I desire if you can find time (from the hurry & Dissipation of the Race week) you will write, but on second thought I will not deprive you of a moment's pleasure that you can enjoy at Chester: you will have dull time enough on yr. hands, writing will then be amusing [and] you can plead no excuse for not writing to me very often. I would have you by all means to spend a fortnight at Parkgate; I’m sure it must be agreeable & will be serviceable to your health. If the weather be warm enough to bathe don't 'often; it will be fine bathing here which we intend before we leave this place. I don't know when that will be as Mrs Bewley says we shall not go with Pee the next time he sails to Liverpool. [Pee was captain of a sailing-vessel which plied regularly along the coast between Liverpool and the Solway Firth. His ship was often used by passengers in preference to travelling by stage-coach, which was expensive, uncomfortable (especially for the ladies, who could not sit outside) and not much quicker.] We shall perhaps come by land. Miss Molly talks of making a very short stay as she goes thro' Liverpool. Try if your persuasions will have any effect, for I find even she can be stubborn. Indeed, my dear Betty, I often wish you were here, to partake of the pleasure I enjoy at this sweet place. I always return to it from Carlisle with pleasure, we was there yesterday and walk'd it, spent the day at Mrs Dockrays a Widow Lady. ‘Tis a pretty long walk but rode home in a one-horse carriage, a very snug one, that just held Miss Sally, Miss Molly, & me. A gentleman passed a pretty Compt on us "that we were the best Zoo. - he had seen in the whole country", so guess the name of our carriage. I think were I to live constant with Miss Done I shou'd learn Humility (you will say a Qualification I stands very much in need of): when I first view her, then take a inward view of myself, I sink into nothing. That I cou'd ever arrive at half the good sense she is Mistress of - but I think you some times tell me Humility is a necessary Ingredient. Well then, I must first learn to be humble & when that Essential point is gain'd shall let you know; but I think it must be the work of time. Remember me to all my Uncle's family & Miss Towsey I wou'd have wrote to her but have not time: let me know have you bought the china.
Adieu my D’r Betty beleive me to be yr. affectionate Sis’t.
J. Griffies
Mrs. Bewley & Miss Dones Comp’ts.
William Roscoe to Maria Done, June 1772
[Roscoe at this time was 19 years old. Maria was 20. The original copy of this letter was formerly among the Barton papers but was presented to the Roscoe Collection in 1962.]
To : Miss M. Done at Mr. Bewleys, Rowcliffe
To be left at the Bush in Carlisle
Liverpool June 5th 1772
You tell me, my lovely friend, that "If I would assure you my silence on a particular subject occasioned me no pain, you would be satisfied" – but this is rather too much. Bodily pain must be born and often is with resignation, but to declare in the midst of it that we are at rest, seems rather too hard a task. It is the same in the mind, and we still find relief in bewailing our miseries which are always redoubled by being obliged to disown them. Do not then pursue your triumph too far, do not tempt my sincerity too often. To add to the happiness of Maria, is the sole of my ambition, the purpose of my life; but at present I can only lament my inability of doing it.
I dare not enter into an argument in the event of which I am so nearly concerned [but] it would however be shameful in me to relinquish my assertion at the first word. I have therefore employed a councellor on my side who I know is a favorite of yours; this is Mr. Thompson, who in many places in his seasons supports what I have advanced. I am confident too Maria has read a little ode of his which ends,
"True Love and Friendship are the same."
If the opinion of an author so skilled in the human heart as Thompson was cannot succeed, how needless it will be for me to attempt it - though if my memory was not rather defective I would bring authorities from other writers.
Your venerable admirer is indeed a laughable character. The short list of his writings mark him for an oddity - "A letter to Mr. Wilkes in the Kings Bench, another to a Friend in Town and a third addressed to a Lady!" We can conclude no less, but that he perfectly understands Politics, Morality and Love.
When Maria only advances a maxim as one that may be controverted, I sometimes venture to dissent from her opinion, but when she asserts it, it is with me sacred and undeniable. For this reason if she thinks proper I will acknowledge that Rowcliffe is nearer London than Liverpool is - that the poems of Miss Pris. Poynton are superior to Milton, or even that the lines quoted by you in your last letter are superior to Collins picture of Mercy.
Flattery! my Maria. Yes, you might very justly be afraid of being accused of Flattery - to set Collins and me in the same page is the greatest absurdity I ever knew you guilty of - but though I am sensible of my own infinite inferiority, it affords me the greatest pleasure to know that I bear so high a place in the opinion of Maria - to merit in more than equal to the applauses of all the rest of the world.
It is you, my Maria, who continue to support me in my ancient occupation of scribbling. Had it not been for you, I might by a constant course of harsh criticism have been cured of a distemper generally thought to be incurable - but your letters have rendered me quite incorrigible. Maria and myself however are almost the only persons to whom my labours are known, and I am certain the only ones who find pleasure in them.
Yet to convince you that I am better than my word (which was to send you a piece on condition you sent me one) I shall copy a few lines I wrote one day when every thought was employed on its usual subject and it was impossible to avert them to choose any other to write on.
I have addressed these lines to a Gentleman and Lady who live near Rowcliffe and must beg Maria if she chances to see them in a dusky evening gliding through the thickets, to present them with my compliments - and from her hand they can hardly refuse to comply with my request – but should you not happen to see them soon, I think the best method would be to make two copies, one to be placed on the highest tree in Rowcliffe and the other thrown into the river.
How often do we take the pains to break a hard shell yet find a worthless kernel! How often do we wade through a tedious preface to arrive at a performance not worth the Labour!
Majestic Genius of the shades
Where oft Orinda’s steps are seen
Thou who protect’st the freshening glades
And spreadst with Brighter flowers the Green!
And Thou the nymph of Edens tide
Who leading slow thy mazy train
Pours't Health and Joy on every side!
O hear the verse, nor hear in Vain.
And when to meet the lingering day
Along your lawns Orinda treads
Then all your lovliest tints display
And bid sweet music chear the shades.
Let Azure hues the skies adorn
Let every flower it’s sweets exhale
All nature feel the favorite morn
And Health descend in every gale.
Or when to shun the sultry sky
She seeks at noon the cool retreat
Then let your Branches press more nigh
To screen her from the noontide heat.
Beneath the softening lunar beam
Should Eden's banks her steps allure
Then gentler swells the lucid stream
For her who boasts a soul more pure.
Yours be the task from every woe
To guard the breast where Vertues shine
To raise the Muse's kindling glow
And every opening thought refine.
So when your beauties charm no more
Shall she your generous cares repay
Her verse shall every scene restore
To bloom secure from all decay
You see my lovely Friend I have now left all manner of diffidence: I no sooner scrawl over a few verses but you have them however bad without any excuse. However at length I begin to tire of Poetry - we have such numbers in Liverpool to pursue the track, that bad as I am I must own I am rather ashamed to walk with them; beside, as the mind matures it quits the unsubstantial delights of the fancy to grasp at something more solid. I sincerely join with Shenstone (none few exceptions) when he says that poetry is entirely the companion of youth, but I cannot so well agree with him when he mentions some circumstances (I forget what it is) which he says will never fail to call to mind the days of Youth and Poetry and Love. He seems by this expression to think that these three die together but in my opinion he is greatly mistaken, as the last should have a much longer duration. Miss Jenny's flowers shall come by Capt. Pugh the next time - had I known what she meant she should have had them before. I'm afraid she'll hardly think them worth the labour when they do arrive. Please to give my sincere respect and tell her this.
I earnestly hope to see you at Liverpool very soon, but the uncertainty of this makes the time seem longer and more tedious. Let me know as near as you can in your next letter when you think to set out and by what method you intend to come. I would advise by land. Follow a good example and write again soon, once more I must bid my Maria
Farewell,
W. Roscoe
Frank Holden to William Roscoe (R.C.2054), extract
No date - from Glasgow
On dear happy ................... accept the Congratulations of thy Friend upon [thine ap]proaching Felicity untinctured with Envy - But .... , will thou not when thou art far more happy than tongue can tell, or Pen describe. Blest as th’ immortal Gods & fondly sitting by the divine Miss D.
When thou hast broke thy present Promise & made one more likely to last & when thy Goddess hears thee with Pleasure enlarge on the forbidden subject wilt thou not then utterly neglect the forlorn the abject Fr. H. from whose Memory no time can wipe off the fond idea of Pleasures equal to thine he once enjoy'd.
[showing how well he knew Roscoe. He is rebuking him for not writing.]
... I thought thou hadst quite forgot that ever thee & me had been reading Shenstone's Pastorals together - that they hadst no Gratitude for the great Mouthful I gave thee of my Welsh Rabbet - that thou hadst lost all Remembrance of our skeeting at 12 'o'clock by Moonlight, of our sleeping together & calling each other more names than Prince Henry & Falstaff cou'd ever think of.
[He also refers to lectures and they were evidently law students together.]
Maria Done to Jenny Lightfoot, June 1772
Miss Lightfoot, Calder Abbey near Whitehaven. (postmark Carlisle)
Single. Rowcliffe, June 5th 1772
At length my Dear Jenny I take up my pen with an intention to perform my promise, which indeed ought sooner to have been done, but a variety of little engagements have hitherto prevented.
In the first place we have been to spend a few Nights at Brekenhill & were all greatly pleas'd (as it was allmost impossable to be other ways) with the place & our Viset. We drank tea at the walk Mill & which tho’ I was prepar'd to admire greatly exceeded any idea I had form'd of it. The romantic Sittuation, the beauty of the rocks, woods, & watter are all beyond discription, but thou art accquainted with the place, & it is therefore needless to enter into any perticulers. Next week my Sister Bewiey & Nanny Graham intend for Wigton. I fancy their stay will not be long, as neither of their good husbands will know how well to want them —
I am not unmindful of thy request, my Dear Jenny, & was it in my power to furnish thee with an Agreable half hours amusment I wou'd not hesitate a moment Complying with it, yet as I think I cannot confide in a more Candid; or I flatter myself a more indulgent Friend, I will (to Convince thee how entire a relieance I place on it) give thee an Opportunity of exerting thy good nature, & that generosity of which I have receiv'd many pleasing tho' underrated proofs. yet remember I entreat thee 'tis only design'd for thy own eye. & that tho’ thy partiality will I hope overlook the numberless errors that are in it.
Yet I have no Claim to such indulgence from an indifferent Person ---- I have only to beg thy excuse for the gloomyness of the following, & I have done - as I begin to fear I have allready given thee more trouble in reading the preface, then the peice itself is worth.
A Night Peice
Hail Night & thy attendant silence hail!
To thee I bend whilst o'er a slumbering World
Thy Leaden Scepter's stretch'd to thee I bend
In low Obeysance
No stranger am I in thy dark dominion's
Thy aweful brown, & sable best delight me
Beyond the Sun, when wide around he spread's his
Bright effulgence.
But Thou fair Godess! soft ey'd queen of beauty
In borrow’d Charm adorn’d more sweetly pleasing
Than that great Orb, from whom thou steals unheeded
The unmist brightness.
Oft in thy Journey thro’ the Starry Concave
Hast thou beheld me not in downy Slumbers
But on thy charms, or heavens unmatch'd perfections
Enraptur'd gazing.
At this still hour, snatch’d from the Numbers wasted;
In soft indulgence Nature has no need of,
Short respite she demands, & then returns to her
Wonted functions.
How sweet the season, & how soft the breez'es
Half slumbering play, no ruffian blast in walking;
But Calm, & still great Natures rapid Motion
Seems half Suspended.
Forth from thy cave, Come Midnights awefull godess!
Come Contemplation, from thy sacred dwelling
Religious daughter, with thy fair Attendant
Peace Unmolested.
This is thy hour, here smile upon thy Votary;
Shed thy bright ray o'er my benighted bosem.
Exalt my soul, & lift her loftiest thoughts to
Pure Adoration.
And if on Earth one groveling wish but lingers;
One Sublanary hold, on low attachment
To these falce Joys, these gay delusive Shaddows
Of unreal pleasures.
Oh! fire my soul with thy sublimest beauties
And in thy Car to those all perfect regions;
Transport her quick, where in immortal Verdure
Blooms every Virtue.
Teach her from whence she drew her great Original;
E'en from the Sourse of all divine Perfection.
Her quarry heaven, her Glorious hopes extend to
Endless Duration.
Eternity! how swell's the raptur'd bosem
Humble Obeysance, & high exultations
Bows us to Earth, then lifts th’ immortal soul to
Joys Uncorrupted.
Unfading glories shine, infinite splendours,
Burst on her View - one unknown scene of wonders,
Uncomprehended – uninvestigated
By erring Mortals.
Systems, on Systems, the great chain of Causes
Unravel 'd all, & the Creators Justice
Shines forth, Conspicious, men & angels pour the
Loud Acclamations.
Till then descend from those Celestial Mansions
Where no discordant sound jarrs in the Chorus
Of Plausive Angels songs, thou Friend to Virtue
Fair Contemplation!
At thy approach, the gloom of Clouded Nature
Retires Abash 'd whilst each internal beauty,
Beams from thine eye, the dawn of light breaks on us
With dazling lustre.
Still is the soul, Collected to Attention
Each scatter 'd thought recall 'd awaits thy dictates
Divine Instructor! Oh! let all within me
Revere thy precepts.
Nor less inspire my Conduct, be my Actions
One Uniform Consistant Plan of duty
(Form'd by thy wisdom) let my heart aspire to
Unblemish'd Virtue.
In Conscious rectitude thro’ life still guide me
And whether long or short its chequer 'd seasons;
Oh! let that Peace which Scepter 'd kings bestow not
Still be my Portion.
I fear my Dear Jenny this verry incorrect Peice will scarsely be inteligible. I have Complied with thy request, because I well know I have nothing worth being ask’d a Second time for
But I have scribled all most to the end of my sheet, without assuring my Dear Amiable Friend that it is with a Sattisfaction of the highest kind that I see our late disagreable Miss understanding perfectly Clear 'd up. I trust for the future the efforts of ill nature, or what shall we call 'em? That may be employ 'd to distroy our Frdship will ever be found ineffectual & permit me to add the most Cordial good wishes for thy happiness that a sincere & lively esteem can inspire or dictate. I hope in little time every embarassment , every perplexing Circumstance, that may now be the sourse of disquietude, will be entirely remov'd, & that in the enjoyment of present felicity, thou may look back on past Sufferings without any mixture of pain or anxciety.
My Sister Sally intends writing in a little time. She is not wholly free yet from the importunitys of a Cirtain Person - but unless she mention it herself, thou may if thou think proper be silent on that head - my best wishes attend the Capt’n — he is a happy man, so tell him & beleive me to be my De’r Jennys Unalterably Affectionate -----
M. Done
Maria Done to Betty Griffies, June 1772 (R.C.1255)
Miss Griffies, Castle Street, Liverpool. (Single) (Carlisle postmark)
Rowcliffe June 26th 1772
I am really, my Dear Miss Griffies, asham'd to acknowledge the receipt of thy last letter, it has lain so long unanswer'd, that I scarcely dare hope any apology I can make will be deem'd sufficient, indeed to be ingenuous, therefore as my invention is so very unfertile, I think it will, on mature consideration, be the best way to throw myself entirely on that generosity & good nature of which I have often rec’d many pleasings proofs. Indeed, now it is past I am myself Amaz'd at the Neglect I have been guilty of. The time since the Arival of my D’r Miss Jenny, has stole from us almost imperceptably, & dont be angry my good Girl, if I confess that I at times regret, and wish for the return of every Day that is pass'd. Our departure is now so ; Near, (at, least I fear it is) that I heartily wish we cou’d prevail on old Father Time (as the saying is) to put on his leaden Slipers & move a little slower.
Yet by no means, my Dear Miss Griffies, emagen that this is the least slight to you, or any other of our verry good Freinds at Liverpool. These kind of reflections only come across our thoughts now & then, at other times do yourselves the Justice to believe that we wish our selves with you, what a pitty that one cannot be in both places at once? That wou'd be pleasing indeed - or that one cou'd with the same facillity make real as Emagenary Visits but this can not be, & we must therefore, as we are permitted to hope in the future, rest sattisfied with the present.
My Brother & Sister sometimes, when we are talking of returning attempt perswading us to spend the winter here & not leave them till the next Spring. What will Mr Griffies say to this proposal? Pray ask him and for a joke tell him we have consented to stay, but I think I hear my Dear Mrs. Willson [Mrs. Griffies had died when her children were infants and Mrs. Willson had acted as mother to them ever since.] immediately declare she will not spare Miss Jenny so long, well I believe she may make her self pritty easy, as I supose all our united persuasions wou'd not keep, her so long from Liverpool, yet I hope the short stay she has made with us has not been disagreable, or the time tedious, — Yet, wou'd thou think it my Dear Girl, this place is become so verry verry pleasing to me that I can scarsely tell how to quit it, & can even think of Norley without a sigh, this sweet air agrees with me extremely well, & seems to have already become almost Natural to me, so true it is that Happiness is Confin’d to no particular spot; 'tis an Inhabitant of the Mind, & to which nothing can possably give birth but Virtue, and a rectitude of intention. In vain therefore do we seek for it from external Objects, when 'tis only to be found within; --- My Brother & Sister (as 'tis no difficult matter to discover that I'm unwilling to leave them) both endeavour to persuade me to stay, & let them return without me. I am wavering - & irresolute - & what will finally be the event I know not. My sister Sally raises the most Objections to this plan, as she thinks the time at Norley wou'd hang heavy on her hands, if we do return with Pee the next time, you must not, at this time, expect us to make a long with you; not more then three or four Nights at Most - for many it will not now be Convenient, but we may perhaps before the summer be over, pay you a nother visit, & make a mends for it, - but of these affairs we will talk when we get to Liverpool.
I fancy Miss Jenny wou'd inform you we had been at Langholm in Scotland we went to bring my Brother that far on his Journey. The Day was a Sweet one & the ride - but if Miss Jenny has given you a description of it I may be silent & if she has not I had better - for I am sure I can say nothing equal to the beauty of the Country, & the delightful prospect. Indeed I question if Mr. Roscoe's descriptive Genius & lively imagenation, cou'd draw a picture equal to the Original, or give us a Just idea of its different beauties for how "Can Art paint like Nature"? & if even Mr. Roscoe wou'd find it too great a task, it were presumption in me to Attempt it, yet tell him not this, Neither lest it make him do what he never did yet that is overvalue his own Abillitys, & under rate mine. Thou smiles my Dear Miss Griffies at my fears, but it is good to be cautious, & we love to appear Consequential in the eyes of our Friends as long as we can. They are all gone to bed some time since. I believe Miss Jenny tho’ she does not Complain wants to go to sleep, & wishes [me] to go to bed; I will therefore, (rather than keep her waking) finish the remainder of my letter to Morrow. Goodnight. Goodnight.
You must not be surpriz'd my good Girl, if there be at our return a verry material alteration in our Dialect, in short you must not laugh at us, if you do not allways ken (know) every thing we say. we have been so long Borderers on the Scotch that we have imperceptibly Contracted many of their Phrases, perhaps you will say barberisms. but I say no, as I admire the Scotch Language for a Man verry much, but think it rather too Masculine for a Woman. — Please to deliver our most respectful Compts. To Mrs Griffies, Mrs Willson, Mr & Mrs Lace - & pray don’t forget mine to the Doctor; whose sperrits I can tell without the aid of devination, have been greatly ras'd by the return of a Cirtain Lady from Chester on whom Attend the best wishes of -
Maria Done
If you see Mr Roscoe soon, my Comp’ts await him.
Jenny Griffies to Betty Griffies, June 1772 (R.C.2766)
Miss Griffies, Castle St., Liverpool. Single. (Carlisle postmark)
Rockcliffe June 27th 1772
my dear Betty,
I last Tuesday received yours. I had begun to think you long in writing, but whatever pain your silence gives me, the pleasure I derive from your letters immediately compensates for all. [I] suppose I may welcome you to Liverpool - to that ever lively agreeable place, fitter for you, Madam, than Chester, where you tell me your time has passed but dully. It were actually necessary to send me there for a year or so, to take off a large share of that giddiness which shines conspicuous in all my actions, and place in its stead a little solidity. It's rather dangerous to be entirely divested of it so nigh Gretna, where I should love to go, but (sad case) I have no Gentleman to escort me, and one should look so simply by one's self - "You are a wild girl, Jenny. What a confession". True, my dear Betty, but don't look so grave, these Chester antiquated virgins, sanctified old creatures, are fit for nothing but mischief, and so must kindly bestow a little of their favours on you ...............
Pray, is Pee arrived at Liverpool yet, for a Gentleman told us yesterday he was still at Bonus [Bowness]; if so the time he will be here again, is I fancy a month too. I have already made a long stay and been troublesome enough at Rockcliffe [and] could for that reason wish it shorter, but have not the least cause to beleive I'm thought so, and am sure I never can make any return for Mr. & Mrs. Bewley's kindness, which with Miss Done's nothing can exceed. I had ever the tenderest regard for our dear Miss Molly [Maria Done], but 'tis by this visit much heightened. In her, my Betty, have we the happiness of finding the sincere friend, the agreeable companion, and the accomplish'd woman whose conversation ever conveys both instruction and pleasure - but how needless this to repeat a truth you are so well acquainted with. Yet I can asure you she has a very capital foible, that of having a stubborn temper and am afraid we shall feel the painful effects of it, as she declares still [that] they will make but a short stay at Liverpool. I shan't say much till we get there; we will then by force detain her captive nor allow her liberty for a month. Miss Sally has too much sweetness to be so obstinate as her sister. She shall be treated gently. Pray engage the Lawyer to plead my cause. I know he will undertake it with pleasure.......
Yr Affectionate Sister
J.G.
P.S. have heard since 'twas Pee staid at Bonus nor went this time with his Sloop to L----- , how sorry shall I be to leave Rockcliffe.
Maria Done to Jenny Lightfoot, July 1772
Miss Lightfoot, at Calder Abbey near Whitehaven. (Postmark Carlisle)
Single
Rowcliffe, July 3rd 1772
Conscious how much I am indepted to thy kindness, my Amiable Friend, I am at a loss for words to express the acknowledgment I owe, ever generous to the shaddow of Merrit in a nother, I find thee ready to make every Allowance I wish'd - yet scarsely dar'd to hope for. & tho' I am well convinc'd that my Dear Jenny has been more partial than just, & that her friendship has overlook'd numberless errors which her dicernment cou’d not but perseive; yet am I no less Delighted with her Approbation, which it will ever, I trust, be my Constant and Uniform endeavour to merrit.. Yet I must entreat thee for the future not to expose my incorrect fragments to those to whom I am Unknown, & from whom I have no right to expect that endulgance which the partial kindness of my friends are so ready to bestow. As to thy self, as I have every thing to hope & nothing to fear. I shall not hesitate in Communicating any little peice, however, imperfect, & if they afford thee a quarter of an hours entertainment, I cannot propose to my self a recompence more pleasing.
My sister Bewley, I am sorry to inform my Dear Jenny, has of late been far from well, indeed my sister Sally & I have been a good deal Allarm'd on her Account, her looks are verry much chang'd within this fortnight past, she has all most Continualy a pain in her side, & this join'd to the badness of her Appitite make us verry much fear a decline, but yet I hope if timely remedys are apply'd it may be prevented, she has not yet had the advice of any Phisician, neither seems inclinable to it, tho’ my Sister Sally and I frequently endeavour to persuade her. If she benot better we cannot both think of leaving her, for tho’ my Kind Brother is more then all the World to her beside, yet as business calls him frequently from home, she wou'd be verry dull in his Absence. their Mutual happiness seems to want no other Addition, than the re establishment of her health, an event which I am well assur'd, my Dear Jenny, joins us in wishing may be speedily Accomplish'd. - We are I beleive going to lose my Brother from the greatest part of next week, the Capital failures which have lately happen'd in London, he is apprehensive will affect some of his Friends in Glasgow, which will require his presence there, - he intends to set out on first day Morning & we shall not expect him at home before this day week.
I was sincerely glad to be inform'd that the Capt’n was so well recover'd from his late allarming indisposition, as to be able to pay you a Viset, from which I shall be pleas'd to hear in thy next that no bad Consequences ensu'd. All our best wishes attend him, & we hope soon to be inform'd of his perfect recovery – and – happiness.
Thou tells me, my Dear Friend, that Mr Roscoe "will be a delighted Man". Indeed I question it, our stay in Liverpool will be verry short, & during that short time it will I am persuaded be necessary for me to behave with that reserve which will not be pleasing to him, or agreable to myself. I have been, & am no little perplex 'd with this affair. - I do not mean that I am at a loss how to act, but I feel a real concern at being under the necessity of giving pain to a worthy heart, - but it is Unavoidable. - We still Correspond, tho’ I have inform 'd him more then once, that it is my intention to drop it, as the likeliest method of bannishing every unpleasing reflection, - but he pleads so earnestly to be, at least, still Consider’d as a friend, & promises to give up the most distant thought of every other pretention, that I know not how to persevere in my resolution. – tho’ I cannot but think he is acting Contrary to his own happiness in opposing it. To give up a Corrispondence which is at once pleasing & instructive is really mortifie'ing, but I wou'd much rather resign the addvantages, however great, that might have resulted therefrom, then wound the peace or embitter the happiness of a Friend. I told thee some time ago, that the intercourse which has subsisted between us has not pass’d uncensur'd, those censures & conjectures wou'd I beleive however, never have distroy'd it had there not been a more powerful Cause. I see no reason why we shou'd let our tranquillity be dependant on the Caprice of others, if we are Sattisfied ourselve of the Propriety of our Conduct, & the motives that influence our Actions, it is sufficient since if that be the case we shall experience a Conscious self approving sattisfaction which is what the World can neither give nor take away. —
I had heard by several hands my Cousin E. L. --- was in Liverpool, but was ignorant in what manner, from thy letter I suppose he has not yet begun business, in which I most sincerely wish he may meet with the success he merrits. -----
I wish not to see him. ----- but shall allways hear of his happiness with pleasure & his establishment in what ever is truely good which can only be Attain'd by a steady Consistancy of Conduct.
I have suffer'd, my Dear Jenny, more anxiety from this really perplexing affair than I wou'd wish to fall to the lot of any one – but it is now past. ---- I am well assur'd I never us'd him Ungenerously, & tho’ I doubt not I have been greatly blam'd by several, yet it is some consolitation to reflect th[at] I have not merrited it. My Aunt Leadbeater, in particular wou'd I dare say have a great deal to say. She is a warm friend but if she thought a Slight was intended to herself or familey is, if I mistake not, of a temper that wou'd not readily forgive or forget it. ----- however I cease now to think much of it. ---- I am glad I have my letters once more in my own posession - & this is a sattisfaction amongst many others, for which I am indepted to my Dear Friend. When we shall meet again I know not, as I think we shall scarsely return out of Cheshire before the Spring, how distant soever that time may be assur'd my most Affectionate good wishes will Constantly attend thee, & that thy Happiness in an important Affair will give an heart felt sattisfaction to thy Unalterably Affect.
M. Done
my sister Sally intends writeing in a few days. my Brother & Sister Bewley both join in D’r Love.
Maria Done to Betty Griffies, October 1772 (R.C.1256)
Rockcliffe October 25th 1772
I am determin'd no longer to defer the performance of the promise I made my Dear Miss Griffies (in my last two letters to Miss Jenny) of writing in a little time, indeed that I have not done it sooner is wrong, but forgive it & I will if possable behave better for the future. Scarse a day has past since I wrote last to Miss Jenny, in which I have not remember'd my promise & purpos'd the fulfilling of it - but engagements of various kinds have continually happen'd to prevent me & I do not, at present, see any prospect of being more at leasure, my friends therefore must excuse me if for a few months I depart from my usual punctuality.
It is Sunday & Mr. Holmes (I might have said my intended Brother) is now here: he came last night, & will spend the remainder of the day with us, By him I intend sending this, indeed I have oppertunities frequent enough as we seldom miss seeing him twice or three times every week. I have the greatest reason to believe that my Sister will find in him all that she could wish in a Husband: he has (if I may be allowed to judge of merrit) a good and valuable heart with an understanding equally respectable. These will, I trust, be a sufficient security for the enjoyment of as much rational happiness as the infelicity and insecurity of human Nature will admit of. To hope for or expect more is a dangerous error, since the event will most assuredly terminate in disappointment, as we shall at last experimentally feel the truths which we were before unwilling to Assent to. It will not be - it is not in the nature of things, or consistant with the Wisdom of an all-directing Providence - that we should enjoy, whilst here, an unembitter'd, uninterrupted series of agreeable events. Perfect happiness was never meant to be the portion of imperfect beings. That is reserv’d as the reward of patient persevereing Virtue in a better World. Our present state of existance is wisely & graciously diversified with good and ill pleasure & pain. The pathes of Life are various, and in passing through them, we shall assuredly (in whatever station we may be placed, or whatever Character we fall up) find many unthought - of difficulties to encounter. Many tryals of our patience & not a few of our Virtues will occur, and even in the discharge of our duty, in the paths of rectitude, the thorns of perplexity will sometimes be permitted to wound us, but then, it is in order to be productive of a great good: it is to accomplish the most benevolent purposes of that Being who never afflicts any of his dependant creatures in vain, of such injustice we cannot suspect him who is all-just & all-wise. This wou'd be a bare exertion of power only & He is endeared to us by the superior attributes of mercy & goodness.
I know not, my Dear Miss Griffies how I am unintentionally got upon these grave subjects, though I am well assured that an excuse for their solidity is not necessary. To endulge serious reflections at times is just & right, but what led me to them now I know not. - On recollection, I am surprised to find it was Matrimony. Well, it is a subject that requires serious & attentive consideration & was it approaching me would I am sure render me sufficiently grave. But I will quit it for the present as I have another Quit to come on. But I think I will employ the Lawyer, & intend writing to him for that purpose. I must not be refused, I cannot take a denial, and know not one that has got the art of persuasion more perfectly than he. Therefore I shall insist on him exerting all his powers of pleasing & prevailing and I hope success will crown his endeavours, which I will take care to second to the utmost of my power, my small Abilities will not I fear be able to effect much, but from him I expect such forcible & irresistable reasoning, as shall determine the cause in my favour. So tell him. The request I would make, my dear Miss Griffies is only a secondary one to my Sister Bewley's in her last letter to Miss Jenny. Indeed we must not be refused. Mr. Griffies & my Dear Mrs Willson will not, I am sure, be so unkind. I cannot think of thee coming to Kendal without paying us a Visit. I will not think of it - Hear my Scheme, which is this:
We shall, I believe, all be at, Kendal in April (it being our yearly Meeting there then). Give us the meeting at that time and return with us to Carlisle from there. After as long a stay as we can prevail on thee to make with us here, thou may return to Kendal & from there go to Mr. Hetherington's.
I flatter myself my Dear Miss Griffies cou'd spend a month or two at Rockfcliffe, and as long a time in Carlisle without thinking it tedious or disagreeable, come at least & make a trial. I will be answerable to Mr. Griffies & give Mr. Dawson what security he thinks proper for the dangerous risk of a Gretna Green excursion -
This grand point settled I hope every other objection wou'd vanish, shou'd any other arise, I commission the Lawyer to use his utmost efforts to remove them.
Pee has sailed this morning which was sooner than we expected, and & Sister Sally has been prevented writing to Miss Jenny as she intended but will do it in a little time.
Mr. Hugh James from Edinburg is now at Carlisle, he din'd with us not long since, is remarkably hansome & very agreeable. We had likewise last week the canny a engaging Cap’tn Willson (Miss Jenny will know who I mean) he has been some time since return'd from Abroad & is I think more agreable than ever, he has not any intention I believe of again quitting his native Country, as I do not hear that he has left his heart either among the russian or Danish ladies.
Tell Miss Jenny I saw the politely ceremonious Doctor Losh the day before yesterday & that he enquir'd after her health, as did Miss (?) Peaz, who is now return'd out of Scotland.
I have scribled a long letter & will therefore expect one in return very soon. Adieu! my Dear Amiable girl, let my best love & good wishes be presented to all round your fireside & believe me unalterably,
Thy Affect
M. Done.
Comp’ts to Mrs & Mr Lace etc, etc as usual
Mr, Rhodes was here on Friday night but I cou'd not possably get time to write by him, he will be in Liv’l I suppose on Thursday. my Comp’ts to the Lawyer must not be forgot. Adieu. ---
Frank Holden to William Roscoe (R.C.2056), extract
No date - from Glasgow
I congratulate thee on thy good success in falling out of love with Miss D. I know it will not hurt thee much even at present & will no Doubt do thee good hereafter, more than thou canst imagine - Nothing, My dear Lad, cramps a premising Genius so much as particular Attachments in such a case improvement can only flow fm one or two sources. Whereas when unconfined every Company entertains & instructs you - Ay, & this I cou'd prove by instances (as Snacho says) crow to tire thy Heart out.
Frank Holden to William Roscoe, April 1773 (R.C.2058), extract
April 22nd, 1773 - from Glasgow
It is impossible to inform thee how much I have been pleased with thy Poetry :- Compliments in Verse repaid in Humble Prose have so vast odds in the Exchange that what you can comprehend in one Stanza wou'd take up my three Sides, besides that my Roscoe's Praise wou'd be a much more copious Subject than what he had to write upon. Of this we will have more when I come to Liverpool which will be soon. I am sorry I can't in return send thee any of my Brats, the muses as well as Graces detest a metaphysical land & never came nearer Glasgow than to the Banks of Eden nore cou'd any Votary but Maria prevail on them to come so far, much less I that am confin'd to Studies so different & even Diversions.
...
I hear your Love Affair with Miss D_e is quite over tell something of it in your next. I do assure you I think it much better to be so - Senior my present friend had a very dangerous Amour which I will relate to thee when I come over - he is gotten better of it again.
Maria Done to Betty Griffies, September 1773 (R.C.1257)
Miss Griffies, at Mr. Hetherington's, Park House, near Kerby Lonsdale. (Carlisle postmark)
Rowcliffe Septb’r 6th 1773
I shou'd, my Dear Miss Griffies, think my self inexcusable in having so long omited writing, did I not hope that with the agreable family thou art now with thy time passes pleasingly on. Yet I acknowledge even this does not all together set me from the imputation of neglect, but I can assure my Dear Girl, that my silence has not proseeded from idleness, but from a cause exactly oposite, viz - industry. I have been at Rowcliffe ever since thou [lef]t us, & Mrs Bewley & I have been extreamly busy in the shirt making way, but these matters properly belong to the domestic province, & therefore I dismiss them.
When I inform my Dear Miss Griffies, how much, how very much, I miss her, I wish I do not become absolutely mope'd - is there no remedy – no releif for disorders of the Mind - or are these not of consequence enough to be attended to? Surely they are - & infinitely more so than bodily complaints. Are there then no restoratives of peace, as well as of strength, is art here ineffectual - or is the attempt never made, but I believe in these cases, we had better apply to a Friend than a Phisician, the cordial of pitty & the gentle alliviations of sympathy & affection wou'd be found the most powerful & efficatious of all other Medicines. It is not Phisical, but moral, or at least mental and that we then stand in need of.
I had a letter a few days ago from Miss Jenny, & she tells me that the travellers are return'd from Buxton [perhaps taking the spa waters?], & that Mrs. Lace & Mrs. Kelly have receiv’d a good deal of benifit from their journey.
She tells me likewise that Mr Roscoe was at Lancaster Azizes, Pray my Dear Girl was thou there? Did thou see him? What said he, & how did he look? Let me have a long letter speedily. Remember, Betty, former engagements.
He was, it seems to have been at Carlisle but prevented (though by what I know not) the day before he propos'd setting out — ‘Tis perhaps better as it was; sometimes "Our very wishes, give us not our wish".
My Brother & Sister Holmes was here yesterday. Her appearance now plainly betrays her, & in spite of her self the secret can no longer be concealed. I have, with much ado, brought my Sister Bewley & her to understand each other, by removing that unnatural reserve & silence between them. I thought 'twas really cruel, considering all circumstances & therefore broke the ice my self, and led her by degrees to talk with tolerable ease on a subject which she at first could not mention without visible emotion. She has confessed her self more than half advanced - Oh my Dear Miss Griffies, how I do tremble for her. What a teriable hour is Approaching! from the dangers of which may we be happily exempted except the Hand of Heaven (for no other hand can bestow a gift so invaluable & uncommon) will be pleased to allow us such a partner of our sufferings as will render them sweet, or in other words turn them into pleasures. So prays most truely & ardently, my Dear Betty's real
affect. Fr’d
M. Done.
My Brother & sister unite in D’r love, pray give my Comp'ts to all the Miss Hetheringtons tho' I have only the pleasure of know’g one. adieu.
Maria Done to Betty Griffies, September 1773 (R.C.1258)
Miss Griffies at Mr. Hetherington's at Park House, near Kerby Lonsdale (single; Carlisle postmark)
Carlisle, Sunday even’g Septb’r 26th 1773
I should more early have accknowledg'd the receipt of my Dear Miss Griffies's last kind favour (agreable to her request & my own inclination) if I had not been hitherto prevented by continual & almost unavoidable engagements; & at present I see no likelihood of having more leaisure, much as I wish for it - for in oppinion that time is only Valuable which is well spent, & I know not (for an Unconnected indevidual like me) a more pleasing method of employing it than by such a just & equal devision as Reason & inclinations wou'd jointly make between society & solitude, business & leaisure.
But it is not, believe me, now in my power to .......tion & divide my time just as I please, or some .......it of it, my Dear Miss Griffies, wou’d 'eer now have been allotted to the tenderer concerns of frdship & affection.
We are extremely busy in preparing for an event, which fills my heart at once with both hopes & fears, & which will most assuredly be productive of infinite care , though at the same time, I trust, of infinite pleasure - so blended are all our enjoyments in this world that Joy seldom, if ever, comes entire, nor do we often suffer pain without feeling likewise some alleviating circumstance - a something which administers consolation & cheers, and supports the heart under every callamity. Yet the present cause of my silence is surely rather a Joyful than a Melancholy Occasion, Pleasure, I'm well assured, it will diffuse (if ev’ry thing terminates according to our wishes) through both these good families, and I will rejoice with them, and endeavour to share in a happiness which is none of my own. It is a selfish heart & I would despise it, that cannot take a part in the good of others & for a while consider them as its own property. Yet trust me, Betty, there is a great deal, on these Occasions, in having a heart free from sorrows of its own. For when this is not the case, we may endeavour as much as we please, but all our efforts shall scarse be able to obtain for us more than a Negative kind of Joy, which is only the shaddow of happiness reflected from others, & no indication of its being an inhabitant of our own breast.
My Sister continues well as can be expected. Her situation has for sometime past been plainly discoverable, nor will thou wonder at it when I tell thee she wants little more than two months of her time. We are yet only in the beginning of our work which I fear will not be accomplished long before it may be necessary - I sometimes wish my Sister had less exactness, or that I had the advantage of stronger sight.
My Dear Miss Griffies requests she may know every thing that passed amonst us, but indeed I cannot promise to be very copious in the narrative way, nor indeed have I much to relate - As to my progress in Shorthand, I am just where I was seven years ago, having never opened my Book of Instructions since Mr. J. James went to Penrith (where he still continues) - nor have I time now to bestow a single thought on it. It would at this juncture be of much more service to me if I could learn the method & art of short stitching.
Last Sunday Mr & Mrs James, my B’r & Sister Holme, & self din’d & drank tea at Rockcliffe - we are now become pritty intimate & as far as I can on so short an acquaintance judge, I take Mrs James to be in every respect a very amiable woman. I sincerely wish the future conduct of her husband may be such as will render the Names of Wife & Mother ever grateful & pleasing - but indeed his very great degree of sencibility makes me fear a thousand things for her.
I wrote long agoe to Miss Jenny & wonder at her silence - sure all is well with her - with yr. family - & with all my friends - for whom as my d... Betty says "my Fears are but too apt to be ever on........ " - perhaps often without any reason.
Let me hear from thee soon, & I may then I suppose, expect to be informed when thou purposes leaving Park House & I shall in idea attend thee to Liverpool. - & imagine to my self a part of that pleasure which my Dear Girl will then in reality enjoy - when ever that time comes fail not to present to them all the good & affectionate wishes of a heart too grateful & sincere ever to forget their kindness or their Merrit.
My Brother Bewley is now in Scotland & not expected back this fortnight; so that my sister is truely left like a turtle "to droop & mourn the absence of her mate" [a quote from Thomas Otway’s The Orphan, lines 324-325] - but we have her now with us at Carlisle & do what we can to keep her Cheerful - we all write in love & good wishes - & ever believe me, my Dear Miss Griffies, truely affect
M.Done
Compt’s to Miss Hetheringtons.
Maria Done to Betty Griffies, ~1774 (R.C.1259)
Miss Griffies, at Mr. Browning's, Cheese Monger, in Orchard Street, Portman Square, London
Single (Carlisle postmark. No date) [Not before 1773 or after 1775]
Why does my Dear Miss Griffies make a request which I must tho’ reluctantly, refuse to comply with. The remaining part of this summer will be a busy one to both our families. My Brother Holme has a house wholly to build & my B’r Bewley one to fit up for their reception before the commencement of Winter. Everyone no doubt will be employ'd, & even I it is likely may be some sort of consequence on this account cheifly, I have refus'd my dear Mrs Marriott a visit, notwithstanding her repeated solicitations. I have so small a prospect of being useful in this world that I must not slip the Oppertunity when it offers - besides the time thou mentions staying wou'd really be so short that it wou'd be scarce worth while - & indeed, except the pleasure I shou'd enjoy in the company of my Dear Miss Griffies there is not any thing in London that wou'd, at this time, be temptation strong enough to draw me there - strange! nothing to attract you? no Amusements in London worth seeing? there may, my Dear Girl, but at present I want that inclination which is necessary to give them a relish. Without this they wou'd be the shaddow of pleasures, not the reality - but enough 'tis a jarring string & we will touch it no longer.
Amidst the numerous pleasures & amusements in which I will suppose my Dear Miss Griffies now to share, I cannot reasonably wish much of her time to be given to me or expect to receive long letters during her stay in London. The gay scenes there will no doubt be sufficient to fill up vacancy of time but when thou returns to Livp’l I will expect a verry circumstantial account - tell me then all & evry thing - no matter how triffling - it may help to pass over a solitary hour, & such I sometimes have - my health has for several months past been much better & my appetite is greatly mended, but I am not within these few days past in extraordinary spirits - there is a heavyness about my heart, at times, that I cannot get the better of - but I intend to spend a good part of the summer at Rockcliffe & if I cannot there forget it, I will endeavour to think of till it ceases to be painful - but is not that a wrong method says my sage penitrating friend? is not solitude the Nurse of ev'ry pensive pleasure? I believe it is often found so - Dr. Parnel was of the same oppinion when he tells us
The silent heart that greif assails
Threads soft and lonesome o'er the dales,
See's daises open, rivers run
And seeks (as he had vainly done)
Amazing thought: but learns to know
that solitudes the Nurse of Woe —
I have indeed ever thought, that no person ought to fly to retirement that was not perfectly freinds with themselves - if we carry with us the seeds of discontent, they will spring up, & meeting with nothing to impede their growth, they will embitter ev'ry hour, & render us utterly incapable of enjoying that happy serenity of temper, which is the natural result of conscious virtue, & inward rectitude. I have often been pleas’d with the idea which the ancient Philosophers must have entertain'd of solitude, who represented it by a mirror - 'tis beautifully expressive of its use & advantage - for such I have frequently thought it - a faithfull mirror that reflects our minds they really are - softens no ungracious feature - gives no false couloring, but is true to the original, be it beautiful or deform’d? "Few are the faults we flatter when alone".
The Soul then conscious of her own dignity, feels the superiority of an immortal being & the whole world is too little to sattisfy its unbounded wishes, which greatly rise & grasp at something more - but I forget my self - this is now an impropper subject. To preach up seasons of morality at this time was ev'ry any thing so redicilous - but I know my Dear & good girl, can lisen with patience to serious reflections & allow them their full force & uttility.
We have now Mr & Mrs Mene, & brother of Mrs Jame’s in town. The old People are remarkably agreable, & as to the young Gentleman, I can yet Judge of little more than his person, which is pleasing rather than hansome. The D’rs conduct is regular & good, & I hope he has a prospect (in consequence of it). We expect in a few weeks the accomplish’d Mr. Walker who intends giving a course of lectures on Natural Philosophy, he is reckon'd to have the finest Apparatus of any person in England, or perhaps in Europe. The subscription when open'd was nearly fill'd up in a week - proof is it not, that we have some People in town of taste, & genious? The Clergy, indeed, & the Gentlemen of the faculty are a considerable boddy - but excepting them I think the greatest number will be ladies.
"Roscoe is good, & worthy as ever" - I will believe it my Dear Girl – for "what we wish, we readily believe-" I hope he will be happy thro’ ev’ry vicissitude in life - for trust me my Dr Miss Griffies, a great part of our felicity [depends] wholly on our selves, on the rectitude of our own conduct [and] intentions. Misfortunes may come - but [it] is not in the po[wer] of ev'ry accidental calamity to which our nature is incident to render a good Man Miserable - most certainly we know that
"No smiles of fortune ever bless’d the bad, neither can –
Its frowns rob Inocence of Joy"—
Adieu - adieu my D’r good girl - we have company today to dine & I cannot enlarge - our families best comp’ts ever attend you & believe me with the sincerest good wishes
Most affectionately etc.
M. Done
Frank Holden to William Roscoe, January 1774 (R.C.2060), extract
10th Jany. 1774 - from Port Glasgow
Your unsuccessful Correspondence with Miss D has cost me many anxious thought - however I hope you will now regain gradually your usual flow of spirits & hope I shall frequently hear from you.
...
My love to Ned Rogers and All Friends.
...
P.S. ..... Mr. Burrows seems very full of getting a Camera obscura. Pray is that Machine of any use in taking Draughts of Houses Castles etc. - As I remember Rogers has one & therefore must know.
Frank Holden to William Roscoe, March 1774 (R.C.2061), extract
21st March 74 - from Pt Glasgow
You have my warmest Congratulations on your recovery from that critical situation, to which if I may judge, your penchant for Miss D_e has long confin'd you, the Description you give of your present feelings is very natural & discovers some excellent symptoms of returning tranquillity of Mind. Why I must own I was for some considerable time rather unhappy about M M_s but some how Company, reflection, Dissipations etc have cured me and I now begin to see these things in a proper light, for it be owned that at first Coming into the World one has not the most just Notions of many such cases.
John Barton to Mr. John Bell, April 1775
[JB was aged 20. Maria Done, the object of his affection, was 23. John Bell was a Minister of the Society of Friends (Quakers). The original of this letter was sent in 1824 to Bernard Barton the Quaker poet (1784-1849) by Deborah Robinson, who sent a covering letter with it in which she praised its 'manly sentiments'.]
Carlisle 27th April 1775
I am going, my much esteemed friend, to take the liberty of addressing you upon, and to solicit your kind, your Christian, interpostion and assistance in, an affair wch most deeply and tenderly affects me. In doing this, I should perhaps, by some, be thought to assume a Liberty which the shortness of our acquaintance would hardly justify — and the mode of application I have made choice of, 'tis very probable, might be censured, by many, as singular and extraordinary. But the assurance I already have of the goodness of your heart, is sufficient to encourage me to hope, that, when you reflect on the importance of the subject I am going to address you upon, (for me it is truly important) you will consider it as a sufficient apology for the freedom I have ventured to take, & likewise for the manner in which I have taken it.
It is entirely needless, I presume, to inform you of my prepossessions in favour of Miss Done, as I have sufficient reason to believe that this is an attachment which you are by no means ignorant of. It is an attachment which I have long avowed, which I have ever warmly cherished and cultivated, and which has been attended with many pleasing, many happy consequences. But, alas, all it's consequences have not been pleasing! ---- some it has produced which have been far, very far, from contributing to that happiness which I had flattered myself such an attachment could not fail to promote.
By endeavouring to obtain the esteem and affection of Maria, (and to obtain these I always have, and ever shall, do everything in my power) I have unfortunately incurred the united opposition of almost all her relations - a circumstance which has given me much pain --- and which is rendered a thousand times more afflicting by this most unpleasg consideration, that She likewise has perhaps experienced the unmerited slights of those who were formerly zealous to show every expression of cordial affection — and whose approbation and regard are still essential to her happiness. It is this circumstance which has cast a melancholy gloom over a connection that, in other respects, has equally contributed to my honour and satisfaction - and in order to remove this it is, that I ardently desire, and earnestly request, you would exert your friendly endeavours to put an end to their opposition —and to restore us, if possible, to the general esteem and friendship of one another. The particular part you act in that society to which all my opponents belong ---- your years, your character, your intimacy with the family, and in particular your well known esteem for Maria -- all these point you out as the man who, of all others, in best qualified for the important task I wish you to engage in. And surely that task is far from being an unworthy one ---- There can be no character wch as Men, and more especially as Christians, we ought to be more ambitious of sustaining than that of a Peace-maker — and Peace, meerly for its own sake, and the sake of Maria, is all I wish for.
It is very possible, indeed, that even this character, amiable as it generally is, may sometimes be an unworthy one, -- and cases may be supposed, both in public and private life, in the affairs of Families as well as those of Nations, wherein dishonourable Treaties may be made. But in the present instance, I would gladly hope, this is not the case. If I thought it was ---- if I had reason to expect that this connection would, in any instance, deprive Maria of anything wch was necessary to her happiness; or contribute in any measure to lessen her in the estimation of any one impartial individual whose good opinion was worth caring for — if I thought such a connexion would be dishonourable to herself, or to her family — much and sincerely as I wish for it — I seriously and solemnly declare, I would not persist in my suit another hour.
From what motives has arisen the opposition of her relations, I am at a loss to understand. Extreamly sorry should I be to suppose that it rested on any reasonable or solid foundation — and I am well persuaded it would be equally unjust to imagine it is grounded on a selfish or illiberal one. Would they but exercise that candour upon this occasion which is so natural to them upon others, I trust a little examination would make it appear that their opposition only proceeded from groundless prejudice or gross misinformation. And were they but once, through your friendly interposition, convinced of this — I hope their present shyness and reserve would be changed into a very different and much more agreeable sort of conduct.
But why am I presuming to beg your assistance in removing the objections of others, when, for anything I know to the contrary, those very objections are equally your own — and you yourself a party in that opposition which I am thus earnesting soliciting you to endeavour to put an end to? To confess the truth, I am not without my fears that this has hitherto, in some measure, been really the case. But such is my opinion of your candour & benevolence, that I persuade myself if you have, indeed, any considerable objections to the connection in question, you will tell me of them with frankness and ingenuity, and give me a fair opportunity of pleading my own cause in a case wherein I am so much interested: --- And if upon an impartial examination, you should still think it your duty to oppose me -- I have then no right to expect either encouragement or assistance from you.
In the mean while, I think I may be allow'd to say, without the imputation of vanity, that my conduct is as irreproachable, and my circumstances by no means worse, than those of another who was so far from being objected to by my opposers, that they did every thing in their powers to forward and befriend him. — One circumstance there was, indeed, in which he certainly had the advantage of me --- I mean his being of the same Religious profession with the amiable woman he wish'd to be connected with. But if this has been a principle objection, it need not be one any longer. Convinced as I am, and as I have publickly acknowledged myself to be, of the superiority of the tenets & principles of your Society over those of the church in which I have been educated, I can have no objection to a change of profession — if that change shall be found practicable. ---- I say "if such a change shall be found practicable" for I have often fear'd, I have sometimes been told, that the Society would not be willing to acknowledge me as a member. They may perhaps consider such a change, not as proceeding from real conviction but as matter of interest or convenience; — and think themselves sufficiently justified in supposing, that some other Love than that of Truth meerly has induced me to take so unusual a step.
Should these be their sentiments, and should these sentiments lead them to reject me, all my hopes of a reconciliation with Maria's Relations may prove groundless - and I may still experience those slights and that opposition from which I have already suffered so much. But if you are convinced of the contrary, I make no doubt you will have it in your power entirely to remove the scruples of others. Permit me, then, to give you this assurance, that though I should probably never have thought of becoming a member of your society, had my attachment to Maria never existed - yet still, that no attachment, however endearing, should induce me to espouse any principles of the truth of which I was not firmly convinced, - or to give an outward and verbal preference to any thing unwarranted by the conviction of my understanding and the feelings of my heart.
But I fear you will begin to think an apology necessary for retaining you so long. I have only one more request to make, and will detain you no longer.
Should this application not meet with its wish'd for success should you, instead of favouring me with your assistance, think it proper to act a contrary part, I hope you will at least be content to let this Letter pass by without further notice --- so that if it cannot be subservient to any useful purpose, I may still have the satisfaction of knowing that my futile endeavours are bury'd in oblivion. ----------
Farewell.
Believe me, I ever am, with much respect,
Your very sincere friend
JNo. Barton
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1776
[Written five months after they were married]
Single (Carlisle postmark)
Mr. Barton to be left with Mr. Geo. Brumell, Pilgrim Street, N. Castle
Carlisle Sunday Afternoon
Previous to the writing of this, Barton I have form'd fifty resolutions, that mine shou'd not be the language of complaint, & what has been the result? That when I took up the pen, (my mind impress'd with this idea) I knew not what to say, strange! that this cou'd ever be the case, when addressing myself to Barton but thus it will ever be, when we attempt to act in contradiction to the feelings of the heart, or endeavour to assume a gaiety to w’ch it is a Stranger --- far hence, then, be all disguise, & all dissimulation whatsoever, if formerly we were Untinctur'd by it influence surely now it cannot be necessary. The heart, of w’ch Barton is the sole, the entire posessor, fears not to lay open all its tenderness, all it weaknesses to him, the former is indeed its glory, & the last sentiment with w’ch it wishes to part, and for the latter it entreats, & hopes for the kindest endullgence. I know this absence is indispensable and trust it will soon be over - why then am I thus anxious - or wherefore shou'd my heart, at time, be ready to sink with alarm ... apprehensions I know this is a weakness, of w’ch I ought to be ashamed, but cannot repent, since I wou'd not exchange even these anxieties for all the ease, w’ch indifference cou'd purchase - if the draught, be not too bitter, or too frequent, I will be content to taste of sorrow sometimes - esspecially if there be, one drop of comfort, one hope of future happiness infus'd in the potion. — and destitue of this comfort I trust I shall never be - it consoles, me at this moment, & is more to me than the whole world wou'd be without it; the first prayer of my heart, the first wish that it forms in regard to temporal good, is for the safety of my Barton, & the preservation of affection, But do I call these temporal goods? Surely they include all that is necessary to Happiness here, or essential to it here-after. On what does the continuance of Barton's affection depend, but on my perseverence in that path of rectitude, w’ch cannot fail at last to lead to everlasting peace? ----- Many, I fear, are the devious steps I may tread, but my aim I trust will ever be invariably the same can it possably be other wise? is there a motive that can animate to the performance of any duty w’ch I have not - No, my Dear Barton, the heart that is attach'd to thee by ev'ry tender tie, that is conscious of having rec'd ev'ry endear'g obligation, never can forget that it is a love of virtue alone, w’ch must strengthen the one, & an equal return of affectionate assiduities wch can ensure the other ----
But I have been repeatly interupted - surely this afternoon might have been spar'd to myself – Ah! why is the World so mortifieingly civil? "Mr. Barton is from Home I find, y’r Dull ... enough I suppose, come I'll sit with you an hour out of mere Charity" --- Ah! charitable visetor wou'd thou be truely so, leave me to myself, or rather to my pleas’g employment, the Pen, the ink, & paper is before me, surely this is sufficient to shew, that a viset now, is an intrusion" --- Yesterday even’g I had Company to Tea, & to Day, I with great difficulty excus'd myself from making one in a Party at Mr. Yeats - why must one be thus importun'd, thus almost compel'd to do what is little less than disagreable? — yet if it proseeds from a motive of kindness I may forgive - but cannot think myself oblig'd by it. -- do they think I am solitary, without company — mistaken idea! The happiest moments I enjoy while Barton is seperated from me, are those w’ch are spent alone, I am then most with him - I forget the present, in reflect’g on the past & realize the future by anticipating the moment of his return. ----
My Dear Barton is by this time I hope, safe arriv'd at N Castle - perhaps at this moment employ'd in writing to me, since on Tuesday Night he has bid me expect a letter. Thanks, therefore a thousand time, for when this arrives I hope to have rec'd it — but how poor is the accknowlegement of words? I feel it is, & will not therefore attempt what they never can Convey.
But what a letter is this? Two pages, wrote, & still on the same subject, why tis a mere love letter — the most unfashionable thing in the world between Husband & Wife - & after having been 5 months married too! ---- well be it so then — if the tenderist sentiments of the heart are lost, amidst the too prevalent levity of Modern Manners - may we ever remain uninfluenc'd, & uninfected by their fatal contagion! -----
One peice of intelligence I must not omit, because, on some Accounts I know twill be plea[sing]. My Sister Holmes was with me yesterday aftern[oon] and whilst we were at Tea, a verry kind, & civil m[essage] was sent from my B’r & Sister Bewley to request [our] Company at supper , & to spend the Even’g we went tho' not without some reluctance on my part, as I was rather apprehensive it might be my Sisters request, in w’ch my B’r had only comply'd - but I had the pleasure to find myself mistaken, - my B’r it seems, com’g in, & not find’g my Sister Holmes in the House, enquir'd for her, & on being told she was with me, propos'd send’g an invitation to us both, w’ch was instantly agreed to by my Sister, whose good, & grateful heart was so affected, that she shed tears of Joy – Ah! Barton, if the Man had one grain of sensibility, wou'd he not feel some Compunction on hav’g so long with-held this happiness from her? - after some little embarrassment, at first, his behaviour was the same as formerly - no notice was taken of former transactions - & I gave them both an invitation – assur’g him, on behalf of us both, that we shou'd be glad to see him, w’ch he made no objection but his general aversion to viset’g — but why did I begin with this affair? it has taken up all the room in my paper, & I have yet a thousand things to say to thee - let me therefore say them all, my Dear Barton, in one sincere assurance, of being ever invariably
Thy Maria
Monday night - This has been a dreadful day, Barton, but I wou'd gladly flatter myself, that y’r Newcastle Frds have kept you amongst them, to all of whom I beg my best Compts — but in particuler Mr. Moresby from whom I have had the pleasure of receiv’g a letter, & intend writ’g this week — Adieu! — Adeiu! — MB —
Maria Done to John Barton, February 1777
Single. (Postmark Carlisle)
Mr. Jno Barton, Care of Mrs Graham, Saracen's Head, Glasgow.
Carlisle Feb’ry 6th 1777
What a letter my Dear Barton? --- my whole heart thanks thee for it - this is indeed double kind, because unexpected, unrequested - but it was ever thy delight to oblige to the uttmost, to prevent, or go beyond all the wishes & the hopes of thy Maria — She can but thank thee, & that be assur'd she wou'd wish to do in ev'ry action of her life, in ev'ry ardent and affectionate endeavour to Contribute to Thy happiness, & while'st this delightful power, this invaluable privilige is left her surely she herself will ever be rich, & happy.
"Supremely happy in th'awaken'd power of giveing Joy"
For is it not true my Dear Barton, that in a tender intercourse of affection the largest, the Dearist share of happiness we enjoy is that w’ch is deriv'd from the Communication of it to another? The mind is then Conscious, as it were, of a double enjoyment, & feels all the delight arise’g from the tender unison of its interests, & its wishes, ---- But why attempt to discribe an Attachment to w’ch the heart can alone do Justice but its own feelings? — to my Dear Barton, I trust nay I am assurd, I need not discribe it, his generous heart entertains every sentiment w’ch does honer to its own sensibility, or can add to the Happiness of his Maria. Dear, inestimable blessing! whatever be my position, in this World, may I never never lose thee! ---- Nor will I fear it, if I continue to deserve that affection w’ch it is my glory, my interest, my duty to secure, by ev'ry wish, by ev'ry aim, & of my life.
Again let me thank thee for thy letter - nor will I fail to attend to, and I hope, profit by the Salutary Councel it Contains; I am sensible these are the dictates of Love, no less than those of reason; Our Universal Benefactor, no doubt, intended ev'ry tender, ev'ry ch virtuous affection w’ch he has implanted in our nature to Contribute to & make a part of our happiness, to render them injurious to our welfare by an impropper endullgence, must therefore be Conterary to his will, as well as diametrically opposite to our own interest & Happiness.
Is not this Cool, & dispassionate reason’g my Dear Barton?—but Ah! these are sentiments to w’ch my head, rather than my heart gives the assent. — however be assur'd that I will — I do, do ev'ry thing in my power to make myself easy & cheerful during this absence—& that I am more so than I expected to be — let not then any thoughts of me, that are painful, intrude on any pleasure thou mayst enjoy. Enjoy it all my Dear Barton, enjoy ev'ry thing that thy journey can afford of pleasure, or entertainment, & on Thy return we will share, & enjoy it over again together. — I promise myself no small degree of pleasure & Amazement, from my Brother Joe's Journal, if he persevere (as I hope he will) in the Continuance of it. Mrs. Brumell [the wife or mother of John’s business partner] was kind enough to sit an hour or two last night with us, & I have like wise had Mrs Irwin & Miss Thomson to Tea ---- I know it is of Consequence to a happiness dearer to me than my own that I shou'd be easy & cheerful — but why do I say "my own" I have - I can have no property of this sort — whoever pretends to self-derived & indeprivable happiness — I at least shou'd "forbear a boast so vain".
Nor ......... ever regret a Circumstance, w’ch in itself ....... the sourse of unspeakable delight, 'tis .......... w’ch renders sweet (& not painful) evry obligation w’ch the grateful heart receives.
I owe all? & I rejoice to owe ev'ry thing to Thee. ---- nay more I wish ever to remain, except in gratitude & affection, thy deptor.
'Tis a fine Afternoon, I must therefore lay down the pen, that I may reap the benefit of it. --- 'Twas one of Thy requests my Dear Barton ---- nay more Thy inductions & sure they will all ever be sacred to
Thy Maria
My Sister begs her best love. Forget not both our Comp’ts to my B’r Joe. —
Maria Done to John Barton, February 1777
Mr. Jno Barton, Care of Messrs. Jackson & Gourley, Linen drapers, Edinburgh.
To be called for. (Postmark Carlisle)
Carlisle Feb’ry 8th 1777
Thy second letter, my Dear Barton, is just rec'd, & if anything cou'd add to the tender, the inestimable obligations, w’ch my heart owes to thee, it wou'd be this generous, this affectionate solicitude for my Happiness. – Ah! why am I not more worthy of such an Attachment? The question Carry's with it a tacit self-reproach w’ch is almost painful - yet if ardent wishes have any influence, I shou'd soon my Dear Barton become ev'ry thing that might best reward thy goodness, & affection. - Formerly I can recollect, during such abscen'es, as these, Thy letters were all my hope, & my Consolation - ev'ry sooth’g expression was balm to my heart - & ev'ry painful sensation w’ch our seperation gave thee, afforded me a sort of melancholly pleasure, w’ch I lov'd to endulge, tho' it was at once a species of sorrow & delight. - But now they soften me too much - they sink too, too deep into my heart, & when I wou'd rejoice in these tender assurances of affection, I am ready to weep for the sufferings w’ch that affection may cause to the best, the dearist of Husbands. —
Think less of me, my Dear Barton, Or at least think that I am as well, & as happy - as in thy absence I can be. - beleive me I do all in my power to be as chearful & easy as possable, for I know thou wishes it, & is not that a Motive sufficient or rather, can there be any other of equal importance to thy Maria? ---
I am delighted with the assurance that thou wilt not delay thy return one moment longer than is Absolutely necessary, yet greatly as I wish for it, do not ride late in the Even’g, or do any thing.that may endager thy health - this wou'd not be to gratify thy Maria, my Dear Barton, but to over-whelm her with Affiction - if her peace, if her Happiness, if her verry existance be dear to thee, be careful of thyself.
I have had a letter from Moresby, who is impatiently expect’g thy arrival - he talks of thee spend’g some hours of leaisure with him – but does he know at what a price they wou'd be purchas'd - I wou'd allow something, nay a good deal to his friendship - but in this case, & particularly at this time, I cannot be so generous as perhaps he might wish me - however when he is a Husband himself, tell him, I will venture to trust my cause to the feelings of his own heart.
I know not when I am to expect another letter from thee, for thou does not mention it in thy last, however, I trust, & am assur'd that no opportunity will be omited, & this ought to make me contented & happy. - Adieu ! I am interupted, but will resume my pen e'er long. —
And art thou indeed a pitiful Philosopher, my good Barton? & is it Love that has serv'd to make thee so - well regard it not - thou hast lost nothing that is amiable in the eyes of thy Maria. & if I misstake not, thou wou'd’st rather give up the vain Parade of Philosopy, than the dear privilige of being belov'd. - But there is little danger, of this kind, to be dreaded - fashion & folly are greater enimies than Philosophy, in the present age, to married Happiness, & the dear delights of domestic peace. If the Alters of Hymen are forsaken, it will not be by the Pupils of Wisdom, or of Science, but by the Votary's of Pleasure, Misstaken Wandere'rs from real [hap]piness, & true pleasure! how do I pitty th.............. One half of the Pains they take to impose on ........selves, & others, wou'd be sufficient to make them happy" - is a remark (tho’ in a different case) I have some where met with. —
I think I shall not be able to deny myself the pleasure of writ’g on Tuesday night, tho’ I may have nothing material to communicate -however do not possitavely expect it - at least do not be uneasy in the disapointment - tell me in thy next when I may expect another letter, but above all (if it be possable) when you will return. Adieu. Adieu! my Dear Barton, All assurances of Affection between us are surely unnecessary, let me then in one word only say that I am ever thy
Maria
Maria Done to John Barton, February 1777
Mr. Jno Barton, Care of Mr. Ja’s Campbell, Linen Draper, Alnwick.
(To be called for) (Carlisle Postmark)
Carlisle 11th Feb’y 1777
Tho’ I did not positavely promise write’g to my Dear Barton, by this opportunity yet, as I wou'd ever make it an invariable rule to do ev'ry thing that I think he wishes me to do, I cannot be easy without scribling a few lines, & tho’ I have nothing of Consequence to say, yet I hope the pen of his Maria will never be deem'd an impertinent intruder. — Cou'd I fear that this was, or wou'd ever be the Case, I shou'd indeed be too unhappy to complain, & too, too deeply affected to be troublesome. --- but I cannot, I will not fear it — in the affection, & goodness of my amiable Barton, my heart, rests with a sweet & tranquil Confidence. — it is the prop on w’ch all my Hopes lean -- the point in w’ch all my wishes are Center'd - Indeed, my Dear Barton, I bear this Absence (to w’ch I have often look'd forward with more fear & apprehension than I durst own) better than I expected. I will allow the time is tedious the hours are often dreary --- but they are less so, than my fears fancy'd they wou'd be — wou'd thou think it, in one of my dejected fits, I lately advis'd Moresby, to that kind of prudent indifference (whenever he enter'd into a Married Life) w’ch I thought, cou'd alone ensure his peace, but surely in this advice my heart was a truant to itself ---- indifference (were it attainable) cou'd never have made me happy, let it therefore forever be banish’d since if it gaurds the heart against the approaches of Sorrow, it shuts up likewise, ev'ry Avenue to Joy. ---- Hope! hope is a better remedy, even for evils w’ch it cannot Cure - it is a Cordial to the faint, and a Staff to the weary, or rather, in the emphatic language of Scripture "it is eyes to the Blind, & feet to the Lame," --Will it not be possable for you to reach Home on Saturday Night? Tell me so, in thy next, & I will indeed thank Thee for it, but let me not expect you without reason neither (remember that) let me be indebted for y’r com’g, perhaps, one day sooner to any extraoadnary fateigues you have undergone.
I am expect’g Company this afternoon & must therefore hasten to a Conclusion, but intend to write by the new man, accord’g to appointment, for this letter I Co ............ as rather by, the by ---- However, I tr ......... will not be entirely unwellcome - or, entirely unwish'd for --- Ah! Maria is it not Thy own self flatter’g heart w’ch Unites Congenial souls in the sweet Consciousness of each others affection. --- Adieu! my Dear Barton, I am ever all that ev'ry endearing tie can make me.
Thy Maria.
John Barton to William Roscoe, July & August 1779 (R.C.219), extract
My sister, I presume, will have informed you that Mrs. Barton was brought to bed of a fine Girl, some days ago, an event on which, I doubt not, you heartily congratulate me. I have the pleasure to inform you that both of them are now, I hope, doing very well, though I dare not hope with too much confidence since a few hours only are elapsed since we had given up our sweet little stranger for lost. She has indeed been extremely ill, and we have been kept, for three days, in a state of most anxious suspense; however she is now so much better, that we begin to flatter ourselves with her speedy and perfect recovery.
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1781
[not addressed - appears to have gone in an envelope]
Sunday Affternoon
I had intended to have wrote a long letter to my Dear Barton - & did mean to have spent this whole affternoon in a manner with him - but I am disappointed - our Dr. little Bettey is not very well, & she claims my care & attention so entirely that ev'rything else for the present does, & must give place - yet let me not allarm Thee unnecessarily - I hope she is not very ill - & will soon be better - the Dr. (James) seems to think little of it - & perhaps my own fears, are too apt to suggest the worst, 'twas only, I think on Friday that I first thought her not so well as usual - & she cirtainly does look something worse, & is rather thinner - but I will hope the best - & that I may be able to give Thee some better intelligence I will not seal this letter till near post time.
How greatly am I oblidg'd to my D’r Barton for the kind, the generous manner in w’ch he endeavours to reconcoile me to myself – if these separations are still interesting - still affecting to my D’r Barton - surely I may without a blush accknowledge, & avow my weakness - and yet shou'd I not be allmost asham'd to confess that such short separations as these are a greater draw-back on my happiness than I allmost dare to accknowledge? - sittuated as I am is it not ingratitude to heave one sigh? Thousands of women wou'd think my lot an enviable one - and so it, or ought to be - the fault is only in myself - I am too anxious - too solicitious about events w’ch I can no way alter – dure’g my D’r Bartons abscence my fears for his health & safety are in proportion to my wishes for them - ev'ry wet day sinks my spirits, & raises fears & apprehensions w’ch I can no way Conquer - Our dear little girls too, are the sourses at once of Joy & of Sorrow - all their Complaints allarm, & make me anxious about the consequences - in my D’r Bartons absence this seems a double charge - I want his advice - his sympathy - & encouragement. I am not ignorant that a great part of this anxiety, tho’ it is indeed mental suffering arises from boddily indisposition - without any severe complaints, my health has for some time past, my D’r Barton knows, been precarious - and indeed I seem, (as Young says) to have lost in a great measure
"All firmness of nerve & energy of thought. "
8.o clock - I must now finnish my letter, & tho I cannot tell my D’r Barton that our D’r little girl is much better, yet I hope she is no worse, therefore I wou'd not have him to be unhappy - or by any means to ride late after the receipt of this in order to be the sooner at Home - I hope she will by that time be a great deal better - she is now asleep & seems pritty easy - her cheif complaints are a gripeing & lax but neither of them has yet been voilent, or to any extreme. — Mary is in perfect health, & I never saw her in better spirits - she wants her Papa much, & bid me tell him so - My Sister Holmes return'd this evening from Scotby - she is a great deal better, & begs to be very ly affect’ly remember'd. —
Adieu! pardon the incorrectness - as well as shortness of this letter, it has been scribbled at several different times - and has nothing to recommend it, but the sincirity- of that affection w’ch will ever render me my D’r Barton's oblidg’d and truely
Affect. Maria Barton
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1781
Mr. Barton, Care of Messrs. Jackson & Gourlay, Edinburgh. (Postmark Carlisle)
Carlisle Friday Even’g.
I have defer'd writeing to my good Barton all this day, have’g had a very troublesome head-ach, & I was desirous of being better that I might write with that chearfulness w’ch I ever wish to do, when I address myself to him; but I must not wait any longer in the hope of being quit of my complaint, however, a nights rest may perhaps, (as it has often before) prove a cure. - a thousand thanks for the letter I rec'd this morn’g - indeed I began to think the time long, & yet I can not say that I expected to hear much sooner: but the weather has, with us, been so very indifferent that I was anxious to be inform'd of 'thy wellfare - Remember my Dear Barton of what consequence thy health is to our dear girls, & for their sakes, take ev'ry possible care of thyself - in this request I have not in view, alltogether, their present & temporary intrests – tho’ these are certainly of importance - yet there are higher claims - & I humbly trust & hope that they may long be bless'd with their fathers care & instructions - a better Tutor I cannot wish for, nor do I fear that my D’r Barton will think the task either irksome or unpleasing, —
"To rear the tender thought
"To teach the young idea how to shoot,
"To pour th’ enlivening spirit, & to fix.
"The generous purpose in the glowing breast. [John Thomson]
is indeed an employment which — I was going to say, requires -- but I will only add, that it is one worthy even of my Barton — my sweet Mary just now came to help me - I told her I was write’g to Papa & cou'd not spare the pen - she wou'd help me notwithstanding, & holding up her little face for a kiss, said I must send Papa another — & how must I send it Mary? "Wrap it up in the paper, & Papa will find it" — 'tis a sweet girl, & ev'ry day acquire’g some little improvement — Bettey is better I think than when thou left home — For the future, my D’r Barton, I will not consent to this Partner-ship of letters --- This morn’g I was in hopes I had got a long one - a half hours treat at least, Judging from its appearance - but behold! some 6 or 8 lines are all I can honestly call my own - however for those I thank thee again & again - for looking over the begining, I find a Compliment so delicate, so flattering - in being the first remember'd that I must, not only forgive, but thank thee for all the rest.—
My head is now much better - I think write’g has cur'd it - for the future (as I had in the course of the day try'd several other remedys to no purpose) — I shall therefore recommend & prescribe this.
Adieu! I hope nothing will happen to prevent thy return this day week - but I shall expect that from Edinburgh my good Barton will again write to his oblidg'd, & invariable
Affect.
Maria
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1781
(Postmark Carlisle)
Mr. Barton at Mr. Rob’t Faulders, Bookseller No.42, New Bond Street, London.
Carlisle Thursday Morn’g [Date probably 1780 or later]
There are sittuations, my Dear Barton, in w’ch, tho’ the heart feels, & gratefully offers up the tribute of thanks for infinite obligations, yet it feels at the same time many tender regrets — feels its happiness incomplete, & looks forwards either to some near, or remote event, for the full Completion of its wishes. Perhaps these are the claims of humanity only, the frailties incident, to our nature, & the signature w’ch must be stamp'd on all sublunary enjoyments — to endulge these regrets too far, is neither agreable to the dictates of reason or Concistent with the principles of that religion w’ch Reason, or religion can bring us, the heart will sometimes repine — tho' what is it to repine, but to rebel against the decrees of that Providence whose impartial laws are good, & wise, as they are benevolent & conducive to the happiness of all his creatures. I am some how, my Dear Barton, got seriously into this subject ---- but I wonder not at it — for it is one on w’ch I have often taken myself seriously to task ---- since I cannot help sometimes accuse’g myself either of having an ungrateful heart, or w’ch is quite as bad, a Peevish temper ---- have I not ev'ry reason to be happy? --- I frequently ask myself the question - & the answer is ever invariably the same, "Yes Cirtainly" --- I know these seperations are necessary—that they are indispensable — they are now become frequent, & yet I do not find that they are in any degree less irksome --- the days, & hours are as long - the time is as drear'y as ever --- and independant of our two sweet Pratler's, my heart knows no pleasure but what it derives from r the hope, & expectation of thy return — when I receive one of my D’r Bartons letters - when I behold in the assurance of unabated affection, the tender effusions of one of the best, & worthiest of human hearts my own is fill'd with emotions w’ch I cannot discribe - & I experience in one moment the mix'd sensations of Joy & of sorrow - these are feelings, I wou'd not exchange for all the ease of indifference, or the friv'lous pleasures of Amazement, for surely
"The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears
is — Less pleasing for, than virtues very tears. [Alexander Pope]
I hope therefore my D’r Barton that tho' I am weak, yet it is at least a pardonable weakness; --- but I am interrupted, as my Sister Holmes is come up to spend the affternoon with me, & I expect likewise Mr Brumells family to tea — all my Acquaintance in general are very charitable, & I do not spend much time alone but except’g the Company of my sweet girls I do not derive much sattisfaction from any other.—
I am glad the time allow'd Thee to pay a viset, tho’ a short one, to my worthy M. Marriott - she is indeed a most Amiable Woman, but I do not think that all her merit is discoverable in a first interview. I am glad too that her husband appear'd in a more favourable light than thou expected - he is a man posess'd of many good quallities - & is very well, & very Clever & so forth, & perhaps only falls short of what one wou'd wish him to be, when one thinks of him, as being the Husband of M.M.—
My sweet little Mary is so full of Chatter besides me, that my letter will, I fear, be very incoherent, however, my good Barton will think this the most pardonable cause I cou'd alledge - She is so full of what I must say to her Papa that I cannot very well make out the whole of what she wou'd say, "She wants her papa - he will bring her a book - & she wants him to mend one of her little chairs she has had the missfortune to break".—
My Sister Holmes begs me to present her best love. I will leave this letter unfinish'd till even’g as perhaps Mr. Brumell may have something to add.
-
They have just left us, but Mr. B. says he had nothing particular w’ch he wish'd Thee to be inform'd of, he beg'd his Comp’ts. & said he shou'd expect Thee to write on thy arrival in town — They are still, he tells me, block'd up with the ice at the dam side — my Br. Joe is siting besides me, & on that accout my good Barton will excuse an Abrubt Conclusion.
Adieu! take ev'ry care of Thy health - & ever beleive me
Unalterably
Thy Maria
[Footnotes by NJB:
1) John's sister Margaret, born on 5 Oct. 1755, married a Robert Faulder about 1785.
2) This letter has been endorsed by Lucy Fitzgerald: "Letters from my Grandmother to her husband - my Grandfather whose portrait they have at Thornhaugh L.F.G."]
Maria Done to John Barton, March 1782
Mr. Barton, Care of Mess’rs Jackson & Gourlay, Edinburgh
(Postmark Carlisle) Single
Carlisle March 16th 1782
"This will be but a short Journey of y’r. Brothers," said I to my sister Jenny, (as we sat at breakfast on the morn’g Thou had left us) "I expect he will be at home on Monday week — 'tis a mere nothing added I in comparison with six weeks" ---- so I reason'd — & so I then thought --- for like my D’r Barton, I view'd "the moment of departure & the moment of return as it were at one glance" — but allass! before the day was over & the succeeding one that follow'd it — I found the irksomeness of the hours as they pass'd over, when the mind had no present object in view - no occupation w’ch afforded either amazement or pleasure - but the anticipation - of a moment - at the distance - at (as it then seem'd) the immense distance of 9 or 10 days.
Shou'd a change of situation, my D’r Barton, ever take place - such a change I mean as wou'd give me, if not more of thy society - at least fewer of these tedious separations - surely then I shall have no farther views, respect’g ourselves at least, or wishes to grattify. -and yet we have so many & such a "luxury of blessings" to be thankful for - that all change, almost, strikes me with an idea of something to be fear'd, --- shou'd we ever, from being engag'd in the more busy scenes of life be depriv'd of that leisure, w’ch the time is now approach’g when they will more & more require - shou'd we not my D’r Barton, sometimes look back at the enjoyments we had lost - & if we endeavour'd to compare, or ballance them with any present possession - surely we shou'd find - surely we shou'd feel ourselves loosers in the Comparison.
Domestic happiness, & domestic enjoyments, if at least, they are of a refind & delicate nature - have a natural tendency - not to narrow the heart - but to confine its pleasures within cirtain bounds. - perhaps there may be a possibility of preserving "this sober sense of bliss", in the midst of the gayest circles, & in the busy & crowded scenes of life - but I fear it will much oftener be found that the mind w’ch has long contemplated - will at length be prevail'd upon to partake of those blandishments, w’ch are but too well calculated in the end, to make it a willing and vollantary captive.
I read over my D’r Barton's letter — & those regrets w’ch he obligingly says he feels in the want of my Company — with, shall I confess it? – heart-felt exultation — but I trust 'twas not gratified vanity - but, gratified affection w’ch caus'd the triumpth - & surely this is a pride w’ch may be safely endulg'd - since it never can be productive of any effects but such as I need not be ashamed of - new desires - & new endeavours of pleasing.
How happy that alotment, where duty is but another name for delight - & where the wish to please is as sincere, as the endeavour is successful. -- surely what is told to the votarys of wisdom, that, "Her ways are ways of pleasentness, & all her paths are peace" may with equal propriety be said to such
"Who is one fat .........
"Their hearty, their fortunes, & their being .........
To such "what is the world? —
Its pomp, its pleasures, & its nonsense all? —
Not one word yet of our darlings? - well, one line is sufficient to say they are in perfect health - & all the rest is better imagin'd than express'd — so likewise my D’r Barton, is that affection & those sentiments of esteem & tenderness w’ch will I trust, (excuse the homeliness of the phrase) ever make, & ever keep me.
Thy own Maria.
Maria Done to John Barton, March 1782
(Postmark Carlisle, M A 21)
Mr. Barton, Care of Mess’rs. Ja’s. & Alex’r. Carrick, Glasgow.
Carlisle March 19th 1782
I rejoice at the continued fineness of the weather, my D’r Barton, as I wou'd at ev'ry circumstance w’ch can in any degree contribute to Thy advantage or pleasure - I hope the Journey will be of considerable service - & that at Thy return we shall all see a visable improvement of looks etc - beleive me my D’r Barton tho' I hope I have no great reason to be anxious or uneasy about the matter, yet it wou'd give me infinite pleasure to see Thee look a little more robust - I shou'd look upon it as some better security of a life w’ch I hold invaluable. — but I trust - whatever afflicting dispensations, may be alloted me, I trust, & humbly hope I shall never have this greatest of all trials to suffer - or ever live to lament a loss w’ch wou'd indeed be erreparable. —
Our little darlings are in charming health & spirits - they are indeed a constant fund of the most delightful entertainment - even to an indifferent, to an uninterested Observer the gradual unfoldings of the human mind affords a pleasure of the most exalted kind- even the exuberances of a generous nature such as require the hand of careful cultivation - are not withstanding promisory of a good & fruitful harvest. The soil w’ch produces abundance will necessarily often require the weeders care, but the reward will assuredly be in proportion to his labour - to a Parent how delightful is the task!
Conscious of my own inability, my D’r Barton, & yet sensible of the important office - the talents - the temper - the unremiting vigillance - the patient perseverance - the acute discernment - in short such an exertion of abilities & zeal, as I fear are but seldom to be met with - I say, when I reflect on these things, I find no compensation for my own weakness & insufficiency - but the implicit confidence w’ch I have in that superiority of genius, & abillities, w’ch it is at once my pride & pleasure to accknowledge - if I am unequal, as I know & feel myself to be, to the important task of forming the infant mind - I trust those whom Providence has alloted to our care will never be sufferers there from - the constant attention - & affectionate exertions of an Amiable & excellent Father - a Father whose precepts will be secconded, by the most powerful of all perswasives - his example, these will I trust, do ev'ry thing for me. - beleive me, it is not my intention either to compliment Thee - or unjustly to undervalue myself - the affectation of humility is worse than even pride itself, - & however willing I may be to resign all claim to genius - & talents of ev'ry kind - I shall never give up my pretentions to that veraslty of character w’ch will ever stamp some degree of merit on its possessor.--
On Satterday Night - or rather Sunday morn’g Mr. Brumell had his parlour windows broken - today however, the Middlesex Millitia are in town being purposely sent for, & tis ........ they will at least intimidate them for a time. —
Am interupted - must therefore hasten to an abrupt conclusion - beleive me my D’r B—— ever to be invariably
Thy Maria.
Maria Done to John Barton, September 1782?
(Postmark Carlisle 12 SE)
Mr Barton, at No. 18 Milk Street, Cheapside, London.
Carlisle Sep’br
By this time I hope my Dear Barton is safely arriv'd in Milk Street - has din'd with his friends, & excepting the fateigue of his Journey, is I hope in good health & spirits. - to be assur’d, however of this, wou'd afford me a pleasure infinitely greater than what can arise merely from hope however probably. - but for this, I must wait - I suppose till Friday Morn’g - & in the mean time, as it will contribute no little to my case, & peace of mind, I will endulge ev'ry ch pleasing expectation w’ch my tenderist wishes can sugest.
Still, my Dear Barton, I know not what to think our purpos'd removal - & much of my thoughts & attention are employ'd about it - had we no family, the affair, tho’ then important, wou'd to me, appear much less so. - Their health - & what is of still greater consequence the preservation of their minds from ev'ry impropper taint - from ev'ry species of mental contagion, is I am sure to us both an object of equal importance - & even under our own immediate care & inspection who can answer for the success of those hopes & endeavours, on w’ch their own, as well as our happiness wou'd so entirely depend --- shou'd they happen in a short time, or even at any time before they have attain'd that maturity of Judgment & experience w’ch is necessary for the direction of their own conduct - shou'd they happen to lose either one - or both of us, - in what a dangerous, in what an expos'd sittuation wou'd they be left? - of such an event as this, we can neither pronounce that it is probable, or otherwise, - we know the general uncirtainty of human life, & we daily see striking instances that no period of it can please an exemption from that common lot, w’ch at one time or other, must be the portion of mortality - that this is an argument w’ch might deter us from engaging in many, even laudable pursuits, I am ready to allow - to dwell too much on the precariousness of life, might in some measure, perhaps, disqualify us for the purposes of living - but where - as in the present case - so much depends on the uncirtain tenure – it surely demands a thought in proportion to the dangerous situation in w’ch they may be left, a Parents life encreases in value & importance to his Offspring - but this is one event more peculierly in the hand of Providence than any other, (if it be right to say so of a Being whose power is alike equal & universal) - I shall therefore leave it - well convinc'd I am that my D’r Barton will weigh ev'ry thing maturely - & determine with caution -.
My Sister Bewley has this morn’g rec'd a letter from Mrs Gray to whom thou may remember she wrote sometime ago - she has consulted Mrs North - but neither she or Mrs Gray is of opinion that my Sister wou'd be likely to succeed in the plan she purposes - it seems Mr North has a relation lately married, whom he has endeavour 'd to put forward in the same way, but hitherto without much success - & that Mrs Gray has made some applications for boarders herself in w’ch, she has not succeeded - they are it seems, remov'd into a house in Bermondy Street – where Mr Gray has Wine Vaults etc - my sister seems much discourag'd - and as the risk & uncirtainty appear to be so great - she wishes greatly that my B’r cou'd be able to procure employ, w’ch might be a maintenance for himself, & she wou'd endeavour to obtain a place for a few years in some good family - but ......... a plan, I shou'd be greatly hurt to see her ........... necessity of adopting - as I think there is not the least probability that she cou'd procure any place w’ch wou'd be in any degree eligiable, or even tollerable - I shou'd be happy indeed to find that any of thy enquiries for them may afford a better prospect – I think Dr. Wesdale a likely Person to be a friend - if he wou'd but interest himself - look over the paper for Sep’r 2’d I saw an advertiz’mt w’ch in case of a removal it might be worth while to enquire about - 'tis in the upholstery way - at Bowkers Warehouse No. 128 opposite the india house - where are advertiz'd for sale marine 4 post beds at 6-6, cheney d’o at 3-18 and fine checks at 3-8 - wou'd it not be worth while to step in & see whether they are really good at the price - as it might determine ones future resolves. —
No letter from Roscoe - since thou left home. — My d’r little girls are perfectly well - & I am myself tollerable - the next time I will take a larger sheet & not so soon lay my self under the necessity of tell’g thee that I am most affectionately etc
Thy M.B
John Barton to William Roscoe, December 1782 (R.C.232), extract
I fear you will think me a very idle correspondent, or a very indifferent father when I now tell you for the first time that my wife was brought to bed of a Boy five weeks ago --- The good women have named him John, and thereby turned me into an old fellow at once. As some consolation for this indignity, however, I have the pleasure to inform you that young John is very likely to become, in due time, the Old Man in his turn, as (though he was in so mighty hurry to get into the world that he came a full month sooner than he ought - yet) he is in a fair way of doing well, & his Mother, of course, is prodigeously proud of him, & has already discovered many striking (and no doubt infallible) prognostics of his future genius, penetration and abilities ---
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1783
Mr. John Barton, at Mr. Jos. Waugh's, Merch’t., Dowgate Hill, London.
Single (Postmark Carlisle)
Carlisle Sunday Even’g 22’d
"Custom will reconcile ev'ry thing"---.this, my Dear Barton, is one of those common proverbial sayings w’ch we have allmost, ev'ry day the advantage of hearing, but that it will hold true in ev'ry instance I can by no means allow. Have I not been long accustom'd to these seperations? Do I not know that they are unavoidable - (another powerful reason to enforce submission) & yet my heart is in no respect better reconcil'd to them, than it was when the first trial of its fortitude was thus made. - but I will not complain - 'twou'd be ungrateful - it wou'd indeed, be almost impious - for of what shou'd I complain but of blessings w’ch are the happy allotment of (I fear) but a few. - if when my Dear Barton is abscent I felt no vacancy in my heart, surely I shou'd then be a stranger to that perfect & entire happiness w’ch when he is present fills up ev'ry wish - & is it self the best, & dearist part of ev'ry enjoyment. Sweet Solicitude! never let me part with thee in order to be at ease - we are not yet angels - & thou art the tribute w’ch frail humanity pays for those blessings w’ch at present are allmost above our nature. - who then wou'd complain of a temporary suffering - or wish to be without that sensibility w’ch occations it? - if we possess hearts susceptable of exquisite enjoyments we must lay our account for many tender inquietudes - perhaps indeed these little interuptions of our happiness may be necessary - they serve but to enhance its value and quicken our relish for its return – besides what reason have we to expect an exemption from some or other of those anxieties w’ch are attendant on ev'ry allotment in life? Were they indeed trials, & distresses w’ch call'd for the uttmost exertion of our fortitude & resignation, we shou'd share them but in common with thousands, & can have therefore no just cause to complain. Thus wou'd I endeavour to reason, & if possible, to bannish that uneasiness w’ch Thy abscence & my fears for Thy safety are but too apt to suggest, - tis my weakness alone w’ch renders this a difficult task, but how shall that weakness be conquer'd? - My Dear Barton, has told me, & I am not apt to forget any of his precepts, that to be compleatly happy, we must be sincerely virtuous; this I readily grant - but he adds - "& to be sincerely virtuous we must be greatly free; Masters of our own Souls, & able to say with composure & undisputed authority, even to the most amiable of our Affections,
"Thus far shalt thou go, & no farther"
— Allass! then my Dear Barton, I fear I shall never be either practically virtuous, or truely free. - but I will endeavour to be so - for however hopeless of perfection we shou'd aim at the arrival of it - and remember "That he who endeavours at the impossible shall often atcheive the extremely difficult". — of this at least, I am well assur'd, that if an ardent desire to become ev'ry thing thou wou'd wish me, that is, ev'ry thing I ought to be can have any influence, the attempt will not be altogether fruitless. —
The weather since you left us has been extremely stormy & tempestous — this wou'd I fear render your journey to day less pleasent - but however, in some cases it is wise to think less of the pleasure we miss than of the evil we excape - & you wou'd at least have a shelter from the rain. — I shall be impatient however to hear of y’r safe arrival, tho’ I mention not this to remind thee of writ’g as I am well assur'd my D’r Barton will with hold no pleasure from me he has in his power to communicate.
— But I must make an end - my little Mary has not yet learn'd that best part of pholo............ patience, puts in a claim – w’ch is errisistable —Adieu! my Amiable Barton, accept such for thy health & happiness as are the constant effusions of a tender, & a grateful heart. —
I am etc
Maria Barton
Maria Done to John Barton, ~1783
(Postmark Carlisle)
Mr Barton, to the care of Mr Jn’o Ballantyne, Merch’t in Kelso.
Carlisle Thursday afternoon
It has ever been the custom of my D’r Barton to present all my wishes - & tho’ perhaps his constant goodness has taught me to expect much from him yet in how many instance's has he exceeded even my expectations? a letter from Moffatt therefore tho’ unlook'd for - was not beleive me, unwish'd for, - or need I add unwellcome? Accept my thanks for it, my Dear Barton, as well as for ev'ry other proof of kindness & affection w’ch I am dayly, £ hourly receive’g if the dept of gratitude cou’d ever be discharg'd by the tenderist returns of --- sensibility, I might hope sometime to be less a deptor — But I am easy on that head - it is to my D’r Barton that I owe my whole stock of earthly felicity & I am content - nay I am happy in being oblidg'd. ----- Our D’r little girls are both well - & Mary very impatient for the return of her Papa - she often fancy's he is coming - runs to the Door to meet him, & returns with no small degree of disappointment in her face. — My own health is I think gradually, tho’ perhaps but slowly improv’g. On Monday & Tuesday I was not able to ride - not able I mean from the want of a horse - but yesterday even’g my B’r & I had an agreable ride of 6 miles - be assur'd I will neglect no opportunity when it suites my B’rs convenience.
Before I write again I hope to receive another letter from my D’r Barton, & by that time too I hope one half his Journey will be got over - be sure take ev'ry possible care of thy health - I beleive I have often said this before - but what matter - if the repetision will in any way enforce the request, I wou'd again - & again repeat it —
Adieu! my little cherub* -(for indeed it is almost one) has been these 2 hours asleep - & begins now to be importunate - adieu therefore without farther addition than that I am
Thy M. Barton.
[note by Lucy Fitzgerald:
"* The only mention of her son Bernard in any of these letters - this must have been quite one of her latest, as she died very soon after my dear Father's birth - L. F. G. Our Grandfather removed from Carlisle very soon after." Lucy is surely mistaken here: the 'cherub' in question is almost certainly Maria's first son John, who was born in November 1782 but died in 1784. (JB mentions him to Roscoe in the December 1782 letter above). Bernard was born on 31 January 1784, and Maria died only a few days later. She would not have been well enough to write about him.]
Martha Done (Bewley) to ?William Roscoe?, February 1784 (R.C.293)
[Written by Maria's sister. The recipient of this letter is nowhere mentioned, but given that the letter is held in the Roscoe Collection, I shall assume it was addressed to him.]
Clapham Feb’y 23’d 1784
My Dear fr’d
I delay not in answering thy request, but am at a loss almost what to say, when my Brother wrote to Liverpool we indeed expected every succeed’g day wou’d have been the last with my Dear sister, some of her most immeadiet alarm’g symptoms have since abated, but oh! my fr’d tis only I think for a short while, her complaints are now evidently a confirm’d consumption, her health has been gradually declining these several months and for the last three she has been in the country, which we vainly flatter’d ourselves wou’d have re-establish’d her health, and indeed she was considerably better, her cough much more moderate, and her other complaints greatly abated, in this promise’g state she remain’d until her dilevery, she had then a good time, and for three days her recovery exceeded our most sangwine hopes, - when all her......
......these were attended with a most violent Heethe(?) fever, and an unrett’g quick palsey, these all opporat’g at one time, brought on a strong delirium, which was not constant but behond description distressing during its continuances – but through the good providence of a merciful creator, she is now perfectly sensible, and has been so for nearly a week past – her fever is something abated and her pulse more regular, but her cough is harassing to the last degree – so that indeed my Dear fr’d we have but little to hope for, indeed it has been a time of the deepest suffering, I feel greatly for my Dear Brother [John Barton the Elder (1754-1789)], he certainly is one of the most deserv’g of men – as to my self – for some time I was almost stupid with grief – we both of us, with grief and fattague – are greatly hurt – we have satt up with my dear sister my Brother and I alternately for nerr three weeks, she being very ansill(?) to......
.....she wou’d not have seen the Morn’g – but she is (I think) better this day than she has been for these two weeks, take the whole day together – I have given my dear fr’d as particular an ‘count as I can – we must wait the event – and oh! may we learn true resignation to the alotments of unering wisdom – let none of us say “what doeth thou” – human nature must feel, and oh! tis hard thus to survi... one finder the after another, it loos.... us indeed from every hold we have her.... truly sympathise with three, my Dear fr’d; thy recent affliction indeed was a heavy stroke may thou find that fortitude and strength of mind which is found only in; intire submission to every dispensation of providence – my Brother desires to be very affectionately remembered, I am with kind regards for you both and the whole as if particularly mentioned – most affectionately thy Oblig’d
M. Bewley
John Barton to William Roscoe, March 1784 (R.C.235), extract
I hope my dear friend will not impute it to any want of respect or regard for him, that I have been thus long in acknowledging his very kind and much esteemed letter of the 29th Ulto; but will rather attribute my silence to the very afflicting & distressing situation in which I have been ever since that time. The very day on which my friend wrote to me, was the last which my late dear and excellent Wife was ever permitted to see. She was taken from me the next morning a little after three O'clock; when I was for ever deprived of the most inestimable blessing w‘ch this world ever did, or ever can afford me, and left to mourn a loss, the greatness of which I become every [day?] more and more sensible of. But, my dear friend, tho' this has been the greatest, it is not the only affliction with which I have been visited. My eldest little Boy, now near a year and a half old, is also taken from me. He has been ill about six weeks in the Hooping Cough, which last has proved fatal to him. He died this morning about ten O'clock. He was a sweet little child and but a few weeks ago in the full bloom of health, with every appearance of a long continuance of it; and I had fondly entertained the most flattering expectations concerning him. But alas! how little do we know what a day may bring forth; and how justly are we exhorted, in this mixed and uncertain state of things, to rejoice, (even when our prospects are the most engaging as tho’ we rejoiced not!