152 REMARKS ON THE THIRD ERA. Jesus Christ, whose life and lessons were a stern rebuke of the selfishness, licentiousness, and unbelief of men, and the true witness and tender encouragement of the disinterestedness, the purity or penitence, and faith of woman, Jesus Christ gave the first mission of his Gospel to his female disciples. These were sent to make known to the apostles the great doctrine they were to preach to all the world that Christ was risen from the dead. (See St. Mat. xxviii. 9, 10.- St. John, xx. 17.) Does it not seem impossible that men, the appointed teachers of this Gospel, should ever have sought to disparage and degrade the sex whose faithfulness and devotion the Saviour had thus publicly honoured? But so it has been. The Roman Catholic church degraded women, when it degraded marriage by making the celibacy of the priests a condition of greater holiness than married life. From this falsehood against the Word of God, came those corrupting sins which, at the close of our Second Era, seemed about to dissolve the whole fabric of civilized society, and spread the most polluting crimes of heathen nations over the Christian world.* How the powers of darkness must have triumphed, when their machinations had drawn on their poor, deluded servants to destroy the then most noble and wonderful exemplar of female purity, patriotism, and piety, the world contained! The fire that consumed Joan of Arc seemed to have reduced to ashes the hopes of that progress in morality, which regard for its development in the female character can, humanly speaking, only ensure. But God's good providence again baffled the powers of evil. In the same year, perchance at the very moment this meek martyr patriot laid down her life, there was a poor, persecuted exile in Strasburg, carving those little wooden blocks, destined to open an Art which would ensure, to the end of time, the means of improvement and moral influence to the female mind. The art of printing holds the next place to the Gospel, in the emancipation of women from the power of wicked men. When the great Reformer threw his ink-stand at the demon on the wall, he used the most potent weapon of exorcism against the powers of darkness which divine Providence had then put into his hands. It was by reading the Word of God that the nine nuns of Nimptsch discerned the contrast between the Christian life, and the daily routine of the cloister. They left their superstitions and returned to the duties God imposes on the sex. Among these nuns was Catharine Bora; and when Luther made his declaration of uniting himself with her in the true and holy marriage ordained by the Creator as the state good for man, then the Reformer gave a surety for the moral progress of humanity, which the enemy of good has never been able to overcome. But this improvement is only where the Bible is read, and its authority acknowledged. The Chinese nation cannot advance in moral culture while their women are consigned to ignorance and imbecility: the nations of the East are slaves to sensuality and sin, as well as to foreign masters; and thus they must remain till Christianity, breaking the fetters of polygamy from the female sex, shall give to the mothers of men freedom, education, and influence. The last fifteen hundred years hardly add a leaf to our record from the life of heathendom; but the Era is remarkable for the development of genius and talent in a new race of women the Anglo-Saxon. Hitherto, the great nations of antiquity, with those of Southern and Western Europe, have furnished nearly all the names recorded. Now the sceptre of female power, always founded in morals, has passed to the British Island, and from thence to our United American nation. The reasons are obvious. No other nations have the Bible in their homes; or the preached Gospel on every Sabbath; or a free press; and no other nations have guaranteed the personal freedom of subject and citizen. As men reach a higher standard of Christian civilization, their minds are lifted up to understand the moral nature of woman; then their estimate of her fitness to aid in the great movements of humanity and religion is exalted, and the wife goes forth to help her husband in the most lofty and holy mission human beings can hold,—that of conveying the light of the Gospel to the world that is still in darkness. This Third Era bears the names of illustrious queens, who have ruled their people with a wisdom above that of kings; of good and gifted women who have won the high places of genius, and performed noble deeds of philanthropy. But the name which, concentrating the attributes of genius with the excellencies of female character, brought out in the heroism of acting or suffering in the greatest cause, is that of Ann H. Judson. "Such was the almost universal corruption of the clergy during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, that the priestly office had fallen into almost general disrepute: the isolated virtue of a few faithful servants of God had not sufficed to redeem it from contempt. The Reformation, by abolishing the celibacy of the ecclesiastics, restored the sanctity of wedlock. The marriage of the clergy put an end to an untold amount of secret profligacy. The Reformers became examples to their flocks in the most endearing and important of human relationship,-and it was not long before the people rejoiced to see the ministers of religion in the character of husbands and fathers."-D'Aubigne's History of the Reformation. THIRD ERA. FROM THE YEAR 1500 TO 1850.* A. ABARCA, MARIA DE, A SPANISH lady, distinguished herself, in the middle of the seventeenth century, by the peculiar excellence of the portraits she painted. She was contemporary with Rubens and Velasquez, by whom she was much esteemed. The time of her death is unknown. ABINGTON, FRANCES, AN eminent English actress, whose maiden name was Barton, was born in 1735. Some part of her earlier life she is said to have spent in great poverty, and when about fifteen, she joined a company of strolling players. In 1752, she was engaged at the Haymarket, London, where she was received with great applause. In 1755, she married Mr. James Abington, and in 1759, she left London for Dublin, where she was long the chief theatrical favourite. Her forte was in comedy; and as the finished lady, or romping chambermaid, she was equally at home. In 1761, Mrs. Abington left her husband to reside with Mr. Needham, who bequeathed her part of his fortune at his death. In 1799 she quitted the stage, and died at London in 1815. ACCIAIOLI, MAGDALEN, A NATIVE of Florence, celebrated for her beauty and genius. She was a great favourite of Christina, duchess of Tuscany, and wrote poems in a very pleasing and elegant style. She died in 1610. ACCORAMBONI, VITTORIA, Was born in 1585, of a noble family, in Agudio, a little town of the duchy of Urbino. From her infancy, she was remarked for extraordinary beauty and loveliness. Her father established his residence at Rome during her early youth; there she became the "cynosure" of the neighbouring nobility, as well as that of Rome. Her father married her to Felice Peretti, nephew and adopted son of the cardinal Montalto, afterwards Pope Sixtus V. In the family of her husband she was adored, and all her desires anticipated; when, in * Including the names of all the distinguished women who are deceased. the midst of seeming prosperity and delight, Peretti was entrapped into a solitary situation, and murdered. Rumour attributed this assassination to the prince Paolo Orsini, who was madly enamoured of Vittoria; nor was she free from suspicion of having consented to this crime. She certainly justified her accusers, by speedily uniting herself in marriage to the prince. From this step, sprang her melancholy catastrophe. Orsini was not young; he had grown enormously stout, and was afflicted with complaints that menaced him with sudden death. In order to provide for the possible widowhood of his young wife, he made a will, which, by endowing her largely, awakened the cupidity and animosity of his natural heirs. After his death, which happened as had been anticipated, at the conclusion of an inordinate feast, the duchess took possession of her inheritance. She was not allowed to enjoy it long; her palace was entered by forty masked assassins, who cruelly plunged a dagger in her heart, and besides, murdered her brother, who resided with her. She takes a place among the literary women of Italy, having been admired for her poetical talents during her life. And there exists in the Ambrosian library at Milan, a volume of her sonnets, full of grace and sentiment. ACKLAND, LADY HARRIET, WIFE of Major Ackland, an officer in that portion of the British army in America under the command of General Burgoyne, accompanied her husband to America in 1776, and was with him during the disastrous campaign of 1777, which terminated in Burgoyne's surrender at Saratoga. Accustomed as she was to every luxury, she shrank from no hardship or danger, while allowed to remain with her husband; and her gentleness and conciliatory manners often softened the bitterness of political animosity. Major Ackland being taken prisoner at the battle of Saratoga, Lady Harriet determined to join him; and obtaining from Burgoyne a note, commending her to the protection of General Gates, she set out in an open boat, during a violent storm, accompanied by the Rev. Mr. Brudenell, a chaplain in the British army, her own maid and her husband's valet, to the American camp. Here she was kindly received, and allowed to join her husband. After Major Ackland's return to England, he was killed in a duel, caused by his resenting some aspersions cast on the bravery of the British soldiers in America; and the shock of his death deprived Lady Harriet of her reason for two years. She afterwards married the same Mr. Brudenell who had accompanied her to the camp of General Gates. Lady Harriet outlived her second husband many years, and died at a very advanced age. In a work by Madame de Riedesel, who was also at the battle of Saratoga, (her husband, Major de Riedesel, was one of the German officers employed by the English government in the war against the American colonies,) she makes this mention of the subject of our memoir: 'Lady Ackland's tent was near ours. She slept there, and spent the day in the camp. On a sudden, she received the news that her husband was mortally wounded, and taken prisoner. She was greatly distressed; for she was much attached to him, though he was rude and intemperate; yet a good officer. She was a very lovely woman. And lovely in mind, as in person." ADAMS, ABIGAIL, WIFE of John Adams, second President of the United States, was daughter of the Rev. William Smith, minister of a Congregational church at Weymouth, Massachusetts, and of Elizabeth Quincy. She was born Nov. 22d, 1744, and, in Oct. 1767, married John Adams, then a lawyer, residing at Weymouth. Mr. Adams was appointed minister plenipotentiary to the court of Great Britain, and, in 1784, Mrs. Adams sailed from Boston to join him. She returned in 1788, having passed one year in France and three in England. On her husband's being appointed Vice President, in 1789, she went to reside at Philadelphia, then the seat of government, with him; as she also did when he was chosen President, in 1797. After Mr. Adams' defeat, in 1800, they retired to Quincy, where Mrs. Adams died, Oct. 28th, 1818. Her letters to her son, John Quincy Adams, were very much admired. She was a woman of true greatness and elevation of mind, and, whether in public or private life, she always preserved the same dignified and tranquil demeanour. As the mistress of a household, she united the prudence of a rigid economist with the generous spirit of a liberal hospitality; faithful and affectionate in her friendships, bountiful to the poor, kind and courteous to her dependants, cheerful, and charitable in the intercourse of social life with her neighbours and acquaintances, she lived in the habitual practice of benevolence, and sincere, unaffected piety. In her family relations, few women have left a pattern more worthy of imitation by her sex. Her letters have been collected, and, with a Biographical Sketch by her grand-son, Charles F. Adams, were published some years since. We will give a few extracts, first, from a letter to her son, John Quincy Adams, the sixth President of the United States. "Your father's letters came to Salem, yours to Newburyport, and soon gave ease to my anxiety, at the same time that it excited gratitude and thankfulness to Heaven, for the preservation you all experienced in the imminent dangers which threatened you. You express, in both your letters, a degree of thankfulness. I hope it amounts to more than words, and that you will never be insensible to the particular preservation you have experienced in both your voyages. You have seen how inadequate the aid of man would have been, if the winds and the seas had not been under the particular government of that Being, who 'stretched out the heavens as a span,' who 'holdeth the ocean in the hollow of his hand,' and rideth upon the wings of the wind.' "If you have a due sense of your preservation, your next consideration will be, for what purpose you are continued in life. It is not to rove from clime to clime, to gratify an idle curiosity; but every new mercy you receive is a new debt upon you, a new obligation to a diligent discharge of the various relations in which you stand connected; in the first place, to your great Preserver; in the next, to society in general; in particular, to your country, to your parents, and to yourself. "The only sure and permanent foundation of virtue is religion. Let this important truth be engraven upon your heart. And also, that the foundation of religion is the belief of the one only God, and a just sense of his attributes, as a being infinitely wise, just, and good, to whom you owe the highest reverence, gratitude, and adoration; who superintends and governs all nature, even to clothing the lilies of the field, and hearing the young ravens when they cry; but more particularly regards man, whom he created after his own image, and breathed into him an immortal spirit, capable of a happiness beyond the grave; for the attainment of which he is bound to the performance of certain duties, which all tend to the happiness and welfare of society, and are comprised in one short sentence, expressive of universal benevolence, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.' This is elegantly defined by Mr. Pope, in his Essay on Man.' Remember, man, the universal cause "Thus has the Supreme Being made the good will of man towards his fellow-creatures an evidence of his regard to Him, and for this purpose has constituted him a dependent being and made his happiness to consist in society. Man early discovered this propensity of his nature, and found Eden was tasteless till an Eve was there.' "Justice, humanity, and benevolence are the duties you owe to society in general. To your country the same duties are incumbent upon you, with the additional obligation of sacrificing ease, pleasure, wealth, and life itself for its defence and security. To your parents you owe love, reverence, and obedience to all just and equitable commands. To yourself,-here, indeed, is a wide field to expatiate upon. To become what you ought to be, and what a fond mother wishes to see you, attend to some precepts and instructions from the pen of one, who can have no motive but your welfare and happiness, and who wishes, in this way, to supply to you the personal watchfulness and care, which a separation from you deprived you of at a period of life, when habits are easiest acquired and fixed; and, though the advice may not be new, yet suffer it to obtain a place in your memory, for occasions may offer, and perhaps some concurring circumstances unite, to give it weight and force. "Suffer me to recommend to you one of the most useful lessons of life, the knowledge and study of yourself. There you run the greatest hazard of being deceived. Self-love and partiality cast a mist before the eyes, and there is no knowledge so hard to be acquired, nor of more benefit when once thoroughly understood. Ungoverned passions have aptly been compared to the boisterous ocean, which is known to produce the most terrible effects. Passions are the elements of life,' but elements which are subject to the control | of reason. Whoever will candidly examine themselves, will find some degree of passion, peevishness, or obstinacy in their natural tempers. You will seldom find these disagreeable ingredients all united in one; but the uncontrolled indulgence of either is sufficient to render the possessor unhappy in himself, and disagreeable to all who are so unhappy as to be witnesses of it, or suffer from its effects. 66 You, my dear son, are formed with a constitution feelingly alive; your passions are strong and impetuous; and, though I have sometimes seen them hurry you into excesses, yet with pleasure I have observed a frankness and generosity accompany your efforts to govern and subdue them. Few persons are so subject to passion, but that they can command themselves, when they have a motive sufficiently strong; and those who are most apt to transgress will restrain themselves through respect and reverence to superiors, and even, where they wish to recommend themselves, to their equals. The due government of the passions, has been considered in all ages as a most valuable acquisition. Hence an inspired writer observes, He that is slow to anger, is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.' This passion, co-operating with power, and unrestrained by reason, has produced the subversion of cities, the desolation of countries, the massacre of nations, and filled the world with injustice and oppression. Behold your own country, your native land, suffering from the effects of lawless power and malignant passions, and learn betimes, from your own observation and experience, to govern and control yourself. Having once obtained this self-government, you will find a foundation laid for happiness to yourself and usefulness to mankind. Virtue alone is happiness below;' and consists in cultivating and improving every good inclination, and in checking and subduing every propensity to evil. I have been particular upon the passion of anger, as it is generally the most predominant passion at your age, the soonest excited, and the least pains are taken to subdue it; -'what composes man, can man destroy.' "I do not mean, however, to have you insensible to real injuries. He who will not turn when he is trodden upon is deficient in point of spirit; yet, if you can preserve good-breeding and decency of manners, you will have an advantage over the aggressor, and will maintain a dignity of character which will always insure you respect, even from the offender. "I will not overburden your mind at this time. I mean to pursue the subject of self-knowledge in some future letter, and give you my sentiments upon your future conduct in life, when I feel disposed to resume my pen. "In the mean time, be assured, no one is more sincerely interested in your happiness, than your ever affectionate mother." From another letter to this her favourite son, of a later date, we will add a few sentences which breathe the true mother's heart. "After two years' silence, and a journey of which I can scarcely form an idea, to find you safely returned to your parent, to hear of your health and to see your improvements! You cannot know, should I describe to you, the feelings of a parent. Through your father, I sometimes heard from you, but one letter only ever reached me after you arrived in Russia. Your excuses, however, have weight and are accepted; but you must give them further energy by a ready attention to your pen in future. Four years have already passed away since you left your native land and this rural cottage; humble indeed when compared to the palaces you have visited, and the pomp you have been witness to; but I dare say, you have not been so inattentive an observer as to suppose, that sweet peace and contentment cannot inhabit the lowly roof and bless the tranquil inhabitants, equally guarded and protected in person and property in this happy country as those who reside in the most elegant and costly dwellings. If you live to return, I can form to myself an idea of the pleasure you will take in treading over the ground and visiting every place your early years were accustomed wantonly to gambol in; even the rocky common and lowly whortleberry bush will not be without their beauties. 'My anxieties have been and still are great, lest the numerous temptations and snares of vice should vitiate your early habits of virtue, and destroy those principles, which you are now capable of reasoning upon, and discerning the beauty and utility of, as the only rational source of happiness here, or foundation of felicity hereafter. Placed as we are in a transitory scene of probation, drawing nigher and still nigher day after day to that important crisis which must introduce us into a new system of things, it ought certainly to be our principal concern to become qualified for our expected dignity. "What is it, that affectionate parents require of their children, for all their care, anxiety, and toil on their account? Only that they would be wise and virtuous, benevolent and kind. "Ever keep in mind, my son, that your parents are your disinterested friends, and that if, at any time, their advice militates with your own opinion or the advice of others, you ought always to be diffident of your own judgment; because you may rest assured, that their opinion is founded on experience and long observation, and that they would not direct you but to promote your happiness. Be thankful to a kind Providence, who has hitherto preserved the lives of your parents, the natural guardians of your youthful years. With gratitude I look up to Heaven, blessing the hand which continued to me my dear and honoured parents until I was settled in life; and, though now I regret the loss of them, and daily feel the want of their advice and assistance, I cannot suffer as I should have done, if I had been early deprived of them." "MY DEAREST FRIEND, "The family are all retired to rest; the busy scenes of the day are over; a day which I wished to have devoted in a particular manner to my dearest friend; but company falling in prevented it, nor could I claim a moment until this silent watch of the night. "Look, (is there a dearer name than friend? Think of it for me,) look to the date of this letter, and tell me, what are the thoughts which arise in your mind? Do you not recollect that eighteen years have run their circuit since we pledged our mutual faith to each other, and the hymeneal torch was lighted at the altar of love? Yet, yet it burns with unabating fervour. Old Ocean has not quenched it, nor old Time smothered it in this bosom. It cheers me in the lonely hour; it comforts me even in the gloom which sometimes possesses my mind. "It is, my friend, from the remembrance of the joys I have lost, that the arrow of affliction is pointed. I recollect the untitled man to whom I gave my heart, and, in the agony of recollection, when time and distance present themselves together, wish he had never been any other. Who shall give me back time? Who shall compensate to me those years I cannot recall? How dearly have I paid for a titled husband? Should I wish you less wise, that I might enjoy more happiness? I cannot find that in my heart. Yet Providence has wisely placed the real blessings of life within the reach of moderate abilities; and he who is wiser than his neighbour sees so much more to pity and lament, that I doubt whether the balance of happiness is in his scale. Let "I feel a disposition to quarrel with a race of beings who have cut me off, in the midst of my days, from the only society I delighted in. 'Yet no man liveth for himself,' says an authority I will not dispute. Let me draw satisfaction from this source, and, instead of murmuring and repining at my lot, consider it in a more pleasing view. me suppose, that the same gracious Being, who first smiled upon our union and blessed us in each other, endowed my friend with powers and talents for the benefit of mankind, and gave him a willing mind to improve them for the service of his country. You have obtained honour and reputation at home and abroad. Oh! may not an inglorious peace wither the laurels you have won. "I wrote you by Captain Grinnell. The Firebrand is in great haste to return, and I fear will not give me time to say half I wish. I want you to say many more things to me than you do; but you write so wise, so like a minister of state. I know your embarrassments. Thus again I pay for titles. Life takes its complexion from inferior things. It is little attentions and assiduities that sweeten the bitter draught and smooth the rugged road. "I have repeatedly expressed my desire to make a part of your family. But 'Will you come and see me?' cannot be taken in that serious light I should choose to consider an invitation from those I love. I do not doubt but that you would be glad to see me, but I know you are apprehensive of dangers and fatigues. I know your situation may |