DR. ZIMMERMAN’S DAUGHTER.
he name of Zimmerman has been familiar to me almost from my first being able to read. In catalogues of libraries, or of books for sale, the last entry is usually “Zimmerman on Solitude.” I do not like solitude, and I always fancied that a book about it must be very dull; so I never knew anything about Zimmerman and his book beyond the title.
But I have lately found, in an old book published at York in 1810, an account of Zimmerman’s daughter, which I have read with much interest. The title of this book is “True Stories and Anecdotes of Young Persons; Designed, through the Medium of Example, to Inculcate Principles of Virtue and Piety.” In fact, it is a little book of Christian biography, and among the examples of virtuous and pious young persons is the daughter of Dr. Zimmerman. The page is headed, “A Tribute of Paternal Affection,” and this tribute proves that, whatever else Dr. Zimmerman may have been, he was a most fond and devoted father. It seems that he lost this only and beloved daughter, a very amiable, accomplished girl, in the summer of 1781, when she was twenty-five years of age. Here is what her father says of her, a record well worth reproducing for the benefit of others, even now after more than a century has passed.
“May I be permitted,” says the sorrowing father, “to give a short account of one whose memory I am anxious to preserve? The world was unacquainted with her excellence; she was known to those only whom she has left behind to bewail her loss. Her sole pleasures were those which a retired and virtuous life affords. She was active, always gentle, and compassionate to the miseries of others. Diffident of her own powers, she relied with perfect confidence on the goodness of God, and listened attentively to the precepts of her fond parent. Though naturally timid and reserved, she disclosed the feelings of her soul with all the warmth of filial tenderness. For me she entertained the most ardent affection, and convinced me, not by her professions, but by actions, of her sincerity. Willingly would I have resigned my life to save hers, and I am satisfied she would as willingly have given up her own to preserve mine. One of my greatest pleasures was to please her, and my endeavours for that purpose were most gratefully returned.
“From her early childhood she had been the victim of ill-health; but, though of weak frame of body, and deeply afflicted, she bore her sufferings with steady fortitude and pious resignation to her heavenly Father’s will. Soon after our leaving Switzerland for Hanover she fell into a deep decline, which too soon deprived me of the comfort of this beloved child. From the knowledge I had of her constitution, I apprehended that the disorder would prove mortal. How frequently did my wounded, bleeding heart bend me on my knees before God to supplicate for her recovery! But I concealed my anxiety from her observation.
“Although sensible of her danger, she never discovered the least apprehension. Smiles played around her pallid cheeks whenever I entered the room. Even when worn by the fatal disease, and under most afflicting pains, she made no complaint. Her decay became evident to the eye, but to the last hours of her life she preserved a serenity correspondent to the purity and composure of her mind. Thus I beheld my dear, my only daughter, at the age of twenty-five, after a tedious suffering of nine long months, expire in my arms.
“During our short residence in Hanover, where she was much respected and beloved, she composed some religious pieces, which were afterwards found among her papers. About the same period she also wrote many letters, which were always affecting, and frequently sublime in the expressions of her feelings. The last words that my dear excellent child uttered were these: ‘To-day I shall taste the joys of heaven!’”
Such is the memorial tribute. The love of a father and daughter is always beautiful, and in this case is unusually touching. The perusal of what the good man wrote has made me think of him with softened feeling. I know nothing about his life or history, save what appears in this account of his daughter, after reading which I could even look at his book on solitude with complacency!