TO THE GRANDCHILDREN OF MR. JOSEPH CHARLESS.
My Dear Young Friends:
Your Grandmother has told me of the letters she has addressed to you, concerning the life of your Grandfather Charless, giving many incidents and recollections of him, which I doubt not will be of the greatest interest to you, and to those who will come after you; at her request, I will also add a letter on the same subject.
Before doing so, however, I wish to say, that as you are all, at the time I am writing, quite young, and as you will not probably read this until some years are passed, I shall not address you as small children, but anticipating a little, I will have you in my mind, and address you, as you will be a few years hence.
I wish very much that I could give you the picture of your Grandfather, as he was, and as he lives in my memory. And when I first undertook the pleasant task, so distinct was his whole character upon my memory, and so dear was the recollection of Mr. Charless to my heart, that I thought it would be easy to transfer to paper the image that was in my mind. But I have not found it so. I have once and again failed to satisfy myself in efforts I made to draw his moral and social portrait, nor do I know that I will succeed better now. But you may ask what is the difficulty? I will reply by an illustration from nature. When one is familiar with a landscape that is marked by bold mountains, prominent headlands, or rushing torrents, it is not difficult to describe such scenery so that it is at once recognized. Very different, however, it is when one attempts to tell in detail, what it is that makes a rich valley, in a bright spring morning, such an object of beauty and delight to the soul. There are a thousand objects too minute for detailed description, which, blended, charm the eye and please the fancy, and make us exclaim, How beautiful! The verdant grass, and modest flower, and budding tree, and singing bird, and genial sun, and balmy air, and light, and shade, all combine to make a scene, which he who sees it feels, but cannot easily reproduce in the mind of another. So it is with Mr. Charless. That which gave him his peculiar charm was not one or two striking characteristics which distinguished him from other men, but it was a beautiful combination of many noble and lovely traits, in proportions so just, and in harmony so pleasing, that when I have attempted to select this and that characteristic for description, I feel that I have succeeded about as well, as if I had collected a bouquet from the valley of which I just spoke, and should give it to a friend as a picture of the landscape itself. The truth is, my young friends, you will never truly know your Grandfather unless you are so happy as to meet him in heaven. And yet this is no reason that you should not desire to know something of him, and form some true idea of his character. And it is with the hope that I may add to your pleasure that I shall try and give you some account of him from my own personal knowledge and intercourse with him.
My relations to Mr. Charless were intimate for about eight years, I being, during that time, the Pastor of the Church in which he was a Ruling Elder. This official connection necessarily brought me in frequent intercourse with him, and as it was hardly possible to know such a man at all, without wishing to know him better, our intercourse soon ripened into friendship, which continued while he lived.
How well do I remember the first time I saw Mr. Charless, and the impression he made upon me. I had just come to St. Louis, from Virginia, to visit Westminster Church, with a view of settlement as its Pastor, if we should be mutually pleased. Being comparatively young and inexperienced, I felt much diffidence in undertaking the charge of a Church in a large city. It would have taken little to have discouraged me and made me abandon the thought; when I saw St. Louis, I felt so unfit to labor in such a place, that I was more than half regretting that I had listened to the invitation. As soon as he learned that I had arrived he called to see me. And there was something so cordial and winning in his manner, he was so frank and kind, that I at once felt that I could give him my confidence, and that with such men I would love to live and labor. It was Mr. Charless, more than all others in St. Louis, that induced me to make it my home. It would be easy for me to fill sheets with my recollections of personal kindnesses shown me. I never went to him discouraged or dispirited that he did not impart some of the cheerful hope, which was so characteristic of his own mind. I never sought his advice when perplexed, or in doubt, that he did not, by his wise counsel, throw light on the matters presented. But I will not dwell on these things, yet I can never forget them. I have had other friends who were very dear to me, but never such a friend as Mr. Charless; and what he was to me in our peculiar relations, such he was also to many, many others, in the various relations of life. But while so true and valuable a friend, I do not think I ever knew a man who made fewer declarations or professions of friendship.
You will get a very good idea of your grandfathers personal appearance from the excellent portraits of him in the family. He was slightly above the average height, well developed, without being corpulent, had a firm elastic step, and motions indicating vigor and health. His eye was bright, but mild, his features regular and unusually handsome, and his countenance was habitually lighted up by an intelligence and benignity which gave it a peculiar charm, and inspired even strangers with a confidence that such a face could not belong to any but a good and upright man. Mr. Charless was an exceedingly pleasant companion, and, without being either brilliant or witty in conversation, his society was courted and his arrival was always hailed with pleasure by the company in which he mingled, for he brought with him a bright face, a cheerful heart, a genial humor and hearty cordiality that seemed to diffuse itself through all around-children, young people and old people seemed alike to enjoy his society-yet he never seemed to me to make an effort to be agreeable, he only acted out his natural feelings and disposition, and this was agreeable.
I hesitate some in describing your grandfather as a very polished and polite man. I fear you might put a meaning to those words which would lead you into a wrong view of his character: there is a polish and politeness that is the result of art and painstaking-a thing on the surface-often a disguise, having its root in expediency, always self-conscious and often selfish-something that may please us because it flatters us, but does not win us because we cannot trust it. Nothing could be more unlike Mr. Charless than this. Yet there is a polish which flows from a nice sense of what is fitting and proper to be done in social intercourse, from ease and self-possession, from a kind heart and desire to make others happy; a politeness that is made up of a thousand little acts of self-denial for the comfort of others; that does not obtrude itself upon your notice, but is felt in making you easy; that flows, not from rules, but from good principles and a generous nature, in this sense Mr. Charless was eminently a polished and polite man. I have seen him with persons in humble life, he made them easy and treated them with kindness. I have seen him with men of eminent positions and great reputation, he was at perfect ease himself and commanded their marked respect.
Mr. Charless was not a learned man, and made no pretensions to learning, yet he was remarkably well informed; kept himself acquainted with the current literature of the day, and conversed with intelligence and good sense on all matters that came up in general society. On more than one occasion he surprised me, by showing an amount and accuracy of acquaintance with subjects which I had supposed lay out of the range of his investigation, and of which I should never have known that he had a knowledge had they not casually come up in conversation. I met him one day, and after some general conversation he gave me a book, remarking, Here is a work to which a friend called my attention. I have read it with so much pleasure that I sent for a copy for you. When I got home I was surprised to find it an elaborate and scientific treatise on the nature of the Church, a work which, I venture the assertion, not one layman in five hundred would have thought of reading, or would have finished if he had begun it.