A Biographical Sketch of the Life and Character of Joseph Charless / In a Series of Letters to his Grandchildren

by Charlotte Taylor Blow Charless

Your grandfather did not at once accede to this proposal, without first consulting his wife, as to her views, and especially her feelings, and she could not have it in her heart to consider her own comfort and pleasure, or that of their daughter, when he so evidently felt that, for him, this was the path of duty. I cheerfully consented; but, looking back at the flesh-pots of Egypt (and there is no doubt a great deal of this kind of worldliness carried even into the Holy place), I requested that we should retain our pew, calculating, as soon as the young church was fairly established, again to occupy it. We both loved and admired, and, like everybody else, felt proud of our minister-for, without doubt, he stood among the first, if not at the head of the Presbyterian church in the West-and we knew that no Dr. Potts could be obtained for this poor little church, which seemed to be tossed upon the breakers, and ready to sink. But my husband, like the early disciples, would have been pleased to toil all night upon the sea of Galilee, and at early dawn would have been seen mending the meshes of the broken net, making ready for another day or night of toil, while I would have preferred to sit with the five thousand upon the green grass, to be fed. But I never could gainsay or resist the few, simply spoken words, that revealed the cherished purpose of his soul, adorned, as they were, with eloquence of his unobtrusive and devoted piety. Of the difficulties and hardships endured by that faithful little band before a flourishing church was really established, and what part the subject of this brief history took in it, I must refer you to others, who know the particulars better than I do, and will proceed to other matters.

Early in the fall of 1848 we placed our dear Lizzie at school in Philadelphia, under the care of Mrs. Gardell, who deservedly enjoyed the highest reputation as an instructress of young ladies, being untiring in her efforts to cultivate their hearts, no less than their minds and manners. From the letters of her father, written during that time, I will make but one quotation, merely to show how earnestly he ever longed for the spiritual good of his beloved daughter: Do you ever think on the subject of your souls salvation?-of its value-of the importance of giving the subject that attention its magnitude demands, in the morning of life, when the feelings and emotions of the heart are warm and generous-before the temper and disposition are soured by disappointment? It was for this reason our blessed Saviour desired the young to come unto Him. My dear daughter, you cannot tell how happy your mother and I would be to know that you had consecrated yourself, heart, soul, and body, to the Lord, to serve Him faithfully in this world, that you might be permitted to enjoy Him in mansions of peace in that which is to come. This is the tenor of our morning and evening prayers, and, we trust, of yours also.

It was our intention to keep our Lizzie at this school for two years, but, the cholera making its appearance in the United States-a more terrible epidemic than ever before, in the spring of 1849-determined us to bring her home at the expiration of the first year. Especially as this fearful disease had exhausted itself in St. Louis during that summer, while we were with her at Newport and Nahant, out of its reach, and as it had not yet swept through Philadelphia, we deemed it safest to bring her home, where she might still pursue her studies under the instruction of private teachers.

From the time we had solemnly vowed at the baptismal font to train our child, not for this perishing world, but for Heaven, and thereby could claim the rich promise of a covenant-keeping God-I will be a God to you, and to your seed-nothing had caused us more anxiety than to know how wisely and faithfully to discharge our duties towards her. Whether strictly to force her into measures, or, by a mild and firm treatment, to win her to love the religion of her parents, was often discussed by us when alone in our chamber. We observed, with pain, that many of the children of our beloved church, whose parents believed that they could do no better part by them than strictly to carry out the rules of the church concerning worldliness, and would not, for any consideration, allow them to learn how to dance, or to attend a dancing party, were by far the giddiest and most reckless of young people. Some, first uniting with the Church, and afterwards disgracing their profession, while still under parental guidance; others, waiting until they were married, and were countenanced by a worldly husband, before throwing off all restraint, and showing these long-faced Presbyterians how amazingly dashy and gay they could be. With what natural grace and ease they can now discuss the merits or demerits of the last play! What a keen relish they have for balls! How charming the masquerade was! What delightful sport, in masque, to tell disagreeable and sarcastic truths (or falsities, perhaps), to some luckless ones who very innocently, but ignorantly, preferred to look on at the droll sight with their faces uncovered! Oh, what a disgrace to the child, who, for the sake of a few years (perhaps days) of false and empty pleasure, can do such violence to the feelings of parents, who, whatever their errors, truly love, and would sacrifice everything, except their hope of Heaven, to bless their children and do them good.

Your grandfather, my dear children, who was no extremist, but was moderate in all things, thought it best to let his child enjoy everything that was innocent; that, while an act of disobedience-an untruth, or any direct breach of The Commandments-would cause his displeasure, and was followed by a look that penetrated your mothers soul, and was a far greater punishment than the rod of her mother, yet she might dance as much as she pleased, for dancing was childrens sport. But when she would gravely ask, if, like her school-mates, she might not go to a dancing school, she would be told that her papa and mamma had promised God to bring her up for Heaven, and that they would not be doing that if they fitted her for the gay world: that she must not forget that she was a baptized child of the Church. If she looked doubtful, or was inclined to urge the matter, we would ask her if she wanted us to break our word to God-which, like any other conscientious child, she would recoil from. When in her sixteenth year, however, while at boarding-school in Mobile, she expressed a greater desire than ever before to take lessons in dancing. They were given in the school, and confined to the pupils; not at night, but in the afternoon, when she required exercise instead of sleep; and we determined, after serious and prayerful reflection, to indulge her in this very natural wish, believing that longer opposition might be attended with a still stronger desire for the forbidden thing, which she could see no harm in, nor we, if confined to the social circle. We knew that God alone could make her a Christian-could turn her heart from the love of the world to that of holiness-and we did not believe that He would be less willing to do so because of our yielding to her wishes in this respect, which, our child clearly understood, was done, not from inconsistency on our part, or a vain desire to see her admired in the world; but from a conviction that, at her age, some consideration should be shown to her reasonable desires; especially as she was far from esteeming this indulgence as a license to unbounded worldliness; that the theater and the ball-room were to be conscientiously avoided, as the road that led directly away from all that was pure, holy and happy. And I am now gratified in saying that we have never had cause to regret the course we pursued in this matter -which ceased to be overrated as soon as its depths were sounded-our daughter finding, by experience, how empty and shallow this greatly overrated enjoyment is, compared to others, even of a worldly and social nature; how far it falls below the more refined joys of a less conspicuous but more reasonable and choice character, which the cultivated alone can appreciate.

The young lady days, no less than those of her childhood, your mother will tell you, were happy days. Restrained in that only which her parents, and her own conscience, deemed wrong, she was as free and joyous as the birds that carol in their native air. When her sprightly and impulsive nature inclined her to go beyond the bounds of propriety, she was checked. Readily indulged in every reasonable desire, and knowing that nothing worldly afforded her parents so much happiness as that of her own, she did not long mourn over occasional disappointments in personal gratification, which, if indulged in, might have reasonably reflected discredit, if not on her, at least on the religious position of her parents. She had to be reminded, now and then, that she was the child of an Elder of the Church; but never did she intentionally do violence to the feelings or views of him she so much reverenced and loved.

This reminds me of a circumstance, that I will relate: One evening, when your mother was dressing for a party, which was to be given at the house of a friend, a very serious accident occurred a few squares from us. A May-day celebration of school-girls, with their teachers, parents and friends, were suddenly startled with the sound and movement of a falling house, and, in a moment, from the giving way of the floor, they were precipitated from the second story of the house down to the first, and, after a moments pause, into the cellar. The alarm was soon noised abroad, and, in a very short time, the building was surrounded by persons-some, who had relatives there, in agony to know the worst concerning them, some from curiosity, and others to render assistance to the sufferers. Your grandfather rushed to the spot, and remained there as long as there was anything for him to do, in encouraging the sufferers, and in assisting them to their homes.

No one was killed-though I think one person died from the injuries received there, a few days after the event; but many were dreadfully bruised, and some had limbs broken. After learning who constituted the assembly, who was hurt, and how much, and finding that, although we knew two or three of the injured persons, and entertained a high respect for them, they were not among our particular friends, nor even in our visiting circle—daughter and I concluded that there could be no impropriety in her attending the party: the time of starting having been delayed for awhile, until we were fully assured of all the facts, and had recovered from the shock felt upon the first alarm.

In less than half an hour after she had gone, her father returned from the scene of the disaster, and, learning that Lizzie had gone to the party, was amazed and greatly excited, that, when our neighbors were dying around us, our child, knowing the fact, should be permitted to make one of a gay and thoughtless crowd! I was taken aback, for I had not realized the distressing condition of the wounded, and undertook to explain; but feeling condemned, mortified, and chagrined, I immediately proposed to send for her, which he promptly approved of, and, in a few moments, the carriage (which had just returned) was sent back, with an explanatory note from me. Lizzie had that moment taken her place in a cotillion, when the note was handed her. She read it, made an apology to her partner, an explanation to her hostess, bidding her good evening, and, in a few minutes more, she was handed into the parlor at home by her friend and escort, regretting, most of all, that she had wounded that kind and tender father, who so deeply sympathized in the sorrows and sufferings of others.

Our house was a gay one. It was thought too much so by some, and perhaps gave umbrage to the feelings of a few of them, who, judging from without, as they passed to and fro, and heard music, and could discern from the street the moving of the heads in the brilliantly lighted parlors, thought, and said, too, what a shame to reflect discredit upon the cause of Christ by revelry and dancing. How much better it would be to appropriate the expenditure of money in these costly preparations to the poor, etc., etc. But, could they have seen and felt the influence of a Christian light, of which he alone who reflected it was unconscious, as he moved about in congenial mood with the young and gay, or, quietly conversed with the grave, perhaps his own dear pastor; had they but known that the calls upon the benevolence of the Christian man were as sacred, and as cheerfully granted, as those of the indulgent father, perhaps more so, they would not, I am sure, have been so censorious. And then, had they known the facts in the case, that no instrument of music, excepting the piano and guitar, and occasionally a flute, and no professor to play on them, for the purpose of keeping up a dance, had ever been in our house, these worthy people, fastidious Christians as they may have been, could not have felt so grieved.