OBITUARY.
Died at Brookline, near Boston, on the 15th inst. Miss Hannah Adams, aged seventysix. Her literary labors have been long before the public, and have made her name known in Europe as well as in her native land. Her first work, the ‘View of Religions,’ was published at a time when this country had few authors, and when a book from a female hand was almost without precedent. She was not impelled by any desire of fame; and though the hope of usefulness was undoubtedly a strong motive to her literary exertions, yet this would not have availed, without the prospect of contributing by her pen to her own support, and the comfort of her nearest friends. It is gratifying to know, that she has left behind a simple and interesting memoir of her early life, which precludes the necessity of saying more of her literary history. Indeed, literary claims are perhaps among the last that, at a moment like this, present themselves to the minds of her friends. The virtues and excellences of her character, her blameless life, her sensibility, the warmth of her affections, her sincerity and candor, call forth a flow of feeling that cannot be restrained. To an almost child-like simplicity, and singleness of heart, she united a clear and just conception of character; to a deep and affecting humility, a dignity and elevation of thought, that commanded the respect and veneration of those around her. Amidst many infirmities she retained the freshness and enthusiasm of youth. Society never lost its charms. To the aged she listened with submission and gentleness; to the classic and highly gifted, with a delight almost amounting to rapture. The young, and there were such who felt it a privilege to ‘sit at her feet,’ she viewed as ‘ministering angels’ dispensing joy and gladness. Her love of nature was exhaustless. The first beam of morning, the glory of noon, the last rays of the setting sun, were objects which through a long life she never contemplated with indifference. Those who were in the habit of visiting her, will recollect how constantly her apartment was decorated by flowers of the field, or the garden. It was her object to gather round her images of natural and moral beauty. In many respects her mind seemed so truly constituted for enjoyment, that to those who knew her but slightly, she might have appeared to be exempted from that mental discipline, which is gradually leading the pilgrim on to the land of promise. But her friends knew otherwise; they knew how keen was her religious sensibility, how tremblingly alive her conscience, how high her standard of excellence, and how great her timidity and self-distrust, and they felt that this was not her haven of rest.
Though Miss Adams’s faith was fervent and devout, it partook of the constitution of her sensitive mind, rather than gave the tone to it. Yet amidst moments of doubt and despondency, a passage from scripture, or a judicious observation, would disperse the clouds that had gathered round her, and the brightest sunshine would diffuse itself over her mind and countenance. There are many who will sorrow that they shall see her ‘face no more;’ but those who knew the peculiar delicacy of her constitution, ought rather to rejoice that she has escaped from the present inclement winter; from the stormy wind and tempest; that her eyes have opened upon ‘one eternal Spring,’ a season that always awoke the enthusiasm of her nature, and which she said seemed to her ‘like the first freshness of creation.’
It was her happiness to have been conversant with some of the most enlightened and gifted men of the age. From many she received essential benefit; and the universal sympathy and respect, as well as the individual kindness which she excited, are testimonies honorable to human nature. Many in whom she delighted have passed away. To those she has gone, and to the Father and Saviour whom she loved.
The last tribute of respect is, however, yet to be paid to the honored subject of this notice. Her remains are to be removed to Mount Auburn, near Boston, the spot selected for a cemetery. Subscriptions for a monument to her memory have been raised, and it will be erected in the spring. There seems to be almost a poetical unity in this arrangement; that one who so devoutly
‘Looked through nature up to nature’s God,’
should be one of the first tenants of a spot, combining so much natural beauty; and which possesses that magnificence of wood and water, which bespeaks it ‘a temple not made with hands.’