"London, May 6, 1824.
"My dear Ann:—
"It was a great deprivation to me to be unable to write at sea. I hoped to have had a large packet for the many kind friends who aided and blessed my departure, expressing something of the gratitude which overpowered me. I have sometimes feared that you thought me insensible to it all, for I dared not try to utter even a word of what I felt lest I should lose my self-possession entirely, and trouble them more than my thanks would please them. God alone knows how fully I appreciated it all, and when I look back upon the period which elapsed after my father's death until I left you, I know not how to speak my astonishment that such a one as myself should have been so signally favored. For your Aunt Nancy I can only say her reward must be beyond this world; nothing that I or any one here can do, is adequate to it. Never was a human being so blessed with kind friends, and could I feel that I had been as grateful as I ought to have been, I should be happy. But the entire absorption of every thought in self, during the past winter, is now a subject of much reproach.
"I had time to think of all this during the long days and wakeful nights on the voyage, and I do assure you I took a new view of every thing connected with it. Whether it was the absence of every thing else to interest my mind, or the natural increase of our attachment to all objects when we are going from them, I know not, but there were moments of acute agony, when I thought of the return I had made for the kindness manifested towards me. How often I longed to be for a little time on the little stool in the drawing-room, giving utterance to my spirit! There was so little in the monotony of sea-life to interrupt the train of one's thoughts, that I could not sometimes get rid of an idea which possessed me, and I often woke up, wearied with the continuation of one and the same dream, night after night. But I did enjoy a great deal at sea, there was so much to elevate the mind in the very situation; and the want of confidence which I felt from the first evening in the head of the concern tended most powerfully to raise my thoughts above all second causes, to the One Great Cause and Supporter of all things. Never did I so deeply feel our entire dependence upon the power of God, never did I so fully realize the impotence of human skill, as when I saw it contending with the winds; and yet there was something ennobling in the idea, that human skill had contrived and taught to guide such a vehicle as a ship upon the trackless waste of waters; and while we trace all this power to the original source of it, we cannot but feel that He has given to us a noble nature. Often when the sea was rising in immense waves on every side, and the ship tossed about as though it were but a little shell which the waters would soon overwhelm, have I felt as I never before did the immense value of that religion which was able to calm all fears, and raise the mind to a state even of enjoyment, under such terrific circumstances. What but a firm confidence that, whether we live or die, or whatever event befall us, it is in Infinite Wisdom that it is so, can give this composure? Shall we not then hold fast and cherish such a faith? shall we not seek to understand its nature, and endeavor with our whole hearts to ingraft its principles upon our characters?
"Tell me as much about Mr. Channing and his sermons as you can. I went to chapel on Sunday with Mrs. Kinder, but heard very poor preaching, to very poor houses. But Mr. Channing told me just what to expect, therefore I was prepared for it. Poor as it was, however, the delight of finding myself once more in a place of public worship overbalanced all, and when I heard the same tunes sung to the same words which I had heard in Federal Street, it was a little more than I could bear firmly. I am charmed with the whole Kinder family; they are too literary to make me feel able to communicate the least pleasure, on account of my ignorance upon all literary subjects, but they are every thing that is kind, and very agreeable, and I find a good lesson for my humility when I am there.
"Mary."
"London, May 26, 1824.
"My dear Friends:—
"For the first four weeks I resisted all the entreaties of my cousins to go to them, because Dr. R—— was so depressed and ill, and it was so bad for Mrs. R—— to be left alone. But the third week Dr. R—— improved very much in health, and somewhat in spirits. And though he offered me many great inducements to accompany them to Leamington, I could not think it quite right to do so, as my society would not be as necessary to them as it had been, and they were going to a fashionable watering-place. I had seen nothing of my own friends, and as Mrs. Bates and Mrs. Morton had asked me to stay with them when I first arrived, I took the liberty of accepting their invitation for a few days.
"I believe I told you I had a kind letter from Uncle Ben, and have since had a visit from his son, who heard of our arrival, and came up the next day, in true Lovell style, to take me home with him to Waltham Abbey, near Enfield.
"Through the kindness of Mr. Kinder's family I have had many privileges. By their intercession I have been admitted to Newgate, and though Mrs. Fry was not there, I was very much gratified. I met with a young Quakeress, who was rather handsome, was very intelligent and kind, and has been very attentive to me. Mrs. Fry is too much out of health to go often, but I am to be informed by my little friend when she next goes.
"Walking to Newington with the Kinders, to return a call, they asked me if I would go with them to see Mrs. Barbauld. To be sure, it made my heart beat, but I could not say no. It was indeed a privilege, and I wish I could tell you all about it. She spoke with great feeling of those of our ministers whom she had seen,—Buckminster, Thacher, and Channing. Having never seen Mr. Thacher's sermons, I had the honor of sending them to her, and of writing her a note. A note to Mrs. Barbauld! What presumption! Yet I was asked afterward to dine with her. She is remarkably bright for her age, speaks of death with the firmest hope, and I really felt as if I were communing with a spiritual body. Though now eighty-two, she possesses all her faculties in full perfection. Her manner is peculiarly gentle, her voice low, and very sweet.
"I went with the Kinders to see some rich Quakers, who are very active in the school concern, and also to a meeting of the British and Foreign School Society, where I saw the Duke of Sussex, and heard some fine speaking. They go upon the Lancaster and Bell system, and truly wonderful is their success and usefulness. I have heard Madame Catalani, and some of the finest singers, at a concert at the Opera House, and was as much amazed as it was possible to be, notwithstanding all I had heard. But some of those with less power pleased me more. No one can equal her, or be compared with her. Braham sung with her, with a full band, and her voice was heard above all; it is tremendous, for the house is immense, and she entirely filled it. At a meeting of the Sons of the Clergy at St. Paul's, I heard some very fine sacred music. About thirty little boys sang the high parts, and chanted the responses. The church was very full. The Duke of Clarence, Lord Mayor, and a goodly company of the dignitaries of the Church, filled the seats of honor. Nothing could be more solemn than the whole scene, and when at parts of the service the whole congregation joined in the chant, the dome rung with the sound, and one almost looked to see if the statues around were not roused.
"Do you fear that my head is growing giddy, with all this variety? At present there is no danger. My thoughts turn too often homeward, to be very much engrossed by any thing here, and my heart will feel sad when I think of the time which must elapse ere I see it again."
"Broadwater, Worthing, June 11, 1824.
"My dear Cousin:—
"On Saturday, the 29th, I received a letter from Dr. R—— saying that Leamington did not agree with him, that Mrs. R—— was quite unwell, and they begged, if possible, that I would come to them the next day, with some plan of proceeding for them, for he felt wholly unable to decide what to do. After some debate with Mrs. S—— I concluded that it was a duty to give up all my own views, and do what I could for him, as there was no one else who could assist them in this land of strangers. Accordingly I wrote him that I would join them on Tuesday, as it was not in my power to make such an entire change in my arrangements before. I had just prepared on Monday to start, when another letter arrived, saying they should be in London at night.
"We propose going from here to the Isle of Wight, and round to the western part of England, Bristol, Bath, and Wales. I hope on the way to have a peep at Mrs. McAdam, who is now at Plymouth, for it is rather tantalizing for us to be kept so long separated. I would not have believed that any thing would have kept me so long from my friends after I had found myself in England. But it is well to be obliged to control our selfishness in England, as elsewhere. The little I have seen of my relations has only increased my desire to know them and be loved by them. My reception at Uncle Ben's was more like that which I hope to have at home, than any thing I could have expected in this strange land. He is a warm-hearted old man, with all the best of the Lovell feelings in full vigor. He was very much attached to my mother, and retains a stronger interest in his Transatlantic relations than I could have thought possible after an absence of fifty years. He was very much overcome at seeing me, and wept over me like a child. They demand three months, at least, from me, but I am afraid I shall not have half that time for them. You don't know how delightful it was to be among people who seemed so like my own home friends."
"Broadwater, June 11, 1824.
"My dear Ann:—
"You have been sorely afflicted indeed, doubtless for some good purpose. I am rejoiced to find by your letter that you are disposed to view it so, and improve by the chastisement. I hope it will lead the way to a more free communication with our good minister. It is a great privilege, and one which ought to be improved. I have learned since I have been here to estimate our advantages in this and all other religious affairs, as I could never have done at home. In London, it seems to me that there is no more connection between minister and people, in the Established Church, than if they had no influence whatever to exercise; and among the Dissenters I have met with, the case is not much better. They are so scattered, and wander about so much, that it is difficult to have much intercourse, or keep up much interest among them....
"I have heard but one sermon since I have been in this country which made the least impression upon my mind, and that was from one from whom I expected nothing that would satisfy me. This was Mr. Irving, whom Mr. Channing mentioned as the popular favorite in London. He is a most singular-looking Scotchman, a pupil of Dr. Chalmers, and now so much the fashion, that tickets of admission are sold, to enable those who wish to hear him to go in before the hour when the doors are thrown open. Even in this way it is like the theatre of a Kean night, and for two hours before the service commences the crowd is immense. His manner is very like Kean's, most impassioned, and when he commenced I turned from him in disgust. But there was that in the subject and substance of the sermon which made me forget the manner in which it was delivered. It was, I understood, one of the least flowery of his productions. I shall never forget it, I think; but I would not be obliged to go to such a place for the best sermons that ever were written. It was just like the theatre or some great exhibition.
"You cannot think how I long, when the Sabbath comes round, to have an ear in Federal Street. I find, as Mr. Channing warned me, that travelling is a sad enemy to the cultivation of religious knowledge and improvement; it does so derange the regularity of one's habits of thinking and acting. The day is too confused, and the nights too wearied. But there is much in the experience of every day to excite a strong sense of gratitude to that Providence whose care is extended over us in all places; in the consciousness which we must have, even when the idea of separation from those we love presses most heavily upon us, that there is One, ever present, whose love for us is infinite. Yet it is not of feelings that I ought to speak; I could fill volumes with the variety of thoughts which every day suggests, but I am learning to do without the communication of them."
From Broadwater the party of four went to the Isle of Wight, and made the usual circuit, in their little open carriage, through that charming region, "with nothing wanting but health, and with that deficiency all was a blank." Dr. R—— was too unwell to enjoy any thing, and Mary herself, for a wonder, speaks of suffering from a cough which she had had a month. But it did not prevent her from making what she calls "a break-neck excursion" up a precipice of about four hundred feet, at the southern part of the island. Of the country she gives a glowing description, for which we have not room. On leaving the island, Dr. R—— found it necessary to return to Broadwater for medical advice, and Mary, who had arranged to meet some of her relations at Plymouth at this time, readily, though not without regret, gave up her own plans, and went back with the family to Broadwater. The place had little interest for her, and she writes of "useless idleness" as a new thing to her, and uncomfortable. But others did not think her presence useless, nor did she fail to find employment. From the wife of the clergyman, who had lately established schools in the parish on a new plan, she learned a good deal of the national system of education. After a short time, Dr. R—— determined to go to Paris, and she accompanied him. But of Paris itself she saw very little, being chiefly devoted to the care of her friend. And except for him, she had no wish to be there. "It may seem strange," she writes, "that I should not wish to see Paris, but the pleasure of every thing depends upon the circumstances which immediately surround us. Yet I am very glad I came, for, though I cannot be of much use, any one is better than none."