“But she is gone! and young though she was, she has accomplished much. She has done much to lay the foundation in our midst of a mode of social life more kind, genuine, and cultivated than most of what is called society; and she has left behind her the example of her life, which, though most private and retired, will always be a blessing to her friends, and through them, we trust, to a wider circle for many coming years.
“Farewell!
“Forgive our tears for one removed,
Thy creature whom we found so fair,
We trust she lives in Thee, and there
We find her worthier to be loved.”
XIX.
JANE APPLETON PIERCE.
There are two classes of ladies of whom the biographer is compelled to write, and both are alike interesting. One includes those whose lives have been passed in the sunshine of prosperity and allurements of fashionable society, who have been widely known, and who have mingled with the leading characters of this country. The lives of such women include innumerable incidents of public and private interest, and are, in fact, necessary to a perfect history of their time. They are a part of the great world about them, and it as easy to gather the facts of their careers, as of the great men with whom they have been associated nearly or remotely.
The other class is composed of those of whom the world knows little; whose perfect seclusion even in a public position has given but little evidence of their abilities, and the world, with its eager curiosity, has been but imperfectly apprised of their merits. Such natures, howsoever cultivated and developed, receive but a small portion of that admiration awarded to the first-mentioned class. Their lives are known only to the inmates of their homes, and though cherished there as a beautiful harmony, and their memory as a holy, sealed book, the inquirer after facts and incidents is dismayed by the small amount of material to be gathered from such an existence. Such an one was Jane Means Appleton Pierce, who was born at Hampton, New Hampshire, March 12th, 1806. She was but one year of age when her father, Rev. Jesse Appleton, D. D., assumed the presidency of Bowdoin College. Reared in an atmosphere of cultivation and refined Christian influences, the delicate child grew in years, unfolding rare mental qualifications, but fragile and drooping in health, developing year by year the most exquisite nervous organization. Naturally inclined to pensive melancholy—the result, partly, of her physical condition, she was from her childhood the victim of intense sensibilities and suffering, and was during her life the unfortunate possessor of an organism whose every vibration was wonderfully acute and sensitive. The world of suffering locked up in the hearts of such persons it is impossible to estimate; but happier by far is the day of their deaths than the years of their lives. Blended with a naturally strong mind, Miss Appleton possessed a quick appreciation of the beautiful, which in the later years of her life was of priceless value to her own heart. Thrown by her marriage into the political arena, and much in the society of public men of note, she yet soared to a higher theme, and, when not incompatible with politeness, discovered to her company the natural elevation of her nature. Politics, a theme most generally uninteresting to woman, was peculiarly so to her, and it was in her presence impossible to sustain a conversation on the subject. In 1834, at the age of twenty-eight, she was married to Hon. Franklin Pierce, then of Hillsborough, and a member of the lower house of Congress. The match was a pleasing union of kindred natures, and was a source of deep and lasting happiness. The wealth and tenderness of Mr. Pierce’s nature, appreciated to its fullest extent by her, had its reflex in the urbanity and courteousness with which his conduct was ever characterized toward others. He is spoken of in a recent publication as the most popular man, personally, in the District of Columbia, who ever occupied the position he filled.
To a person organized as was Mrs. Pierce, public observation was extremely painful, and she shrank from it always, preferring the quiet of her New England home to the glare and glitter of fashionable life in Washington. A friend has said of her: “How well she filled her station as wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend, those only can tell who knew her in these private relations. In this quiet sphere she found her joy, and here her gentle but powerful influence was deeply and constantly felt, through wise counsels and delicate suggestions, the purest, finest tastes and a devoted life.”