Life of Harriet Beecher Stowe | Page 3

NEW ENGLAND CITIES.--A LETTER FROM
MAINE.--PLEASANT AND UNPLEASANT READINGS.--SECOND
TOUR.--A WESTERN JOURNEY.--VISIT TO OLD
SCENES.--CELEBRATION OF SEVENTIETH
BIRTHDAY.--CONGRATULATORY POEMS FROM MR.
WHITTIER AND DR. HOLMES.-- LAST WORDS.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PORTRAIT OF MRS. STOWE. From a crayon by Richmond, made in
England in 1853
SILVER INKSTAND PRESENTED TO MRS. STOWE BY HER
ENGLISH ADMIRERS IN 1853
PORTRAIT OF MRS. STOWE'S GRANDMOTHER, ROXANNA
FOOTE. From a miniature painted on ivory by her daughter, Mrs.
Lyman Beecher.
BIRTHPLACE AT LITCHFIELD, CONN.
PORTRAIT OF CATHERINE E. BEECHER. From a photograph
taken in 1875
THE HOME AT WALNUT HILLS, CINCINNATI. [Footnote: From
recent photographs and from views in the Autobiography of Lyman
Beecher, published by Messrs. Harper & Brothers.]

PORTRAIT OF HENRY WARD BEECHER. From a photograph by
Rockwood, in 1884
MANUSCRIPT PAGE OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN" (facsimile)
THE ANDOVER HOME. From a painting by F. Rondel, in 1860,
owned by Mrs. H. F. Allen.
PORTRAIT OF LYMAN BEECHER, AT THE AGE OF
EIGHTY-SEVEN. From a painting owned by the Boston
Congregational Club.
PORTRAIT OF THE DUCHESS OF SUTHERLAND. From an
engraving presented to Mrs. Stowe.
THE OLD HOME AT HARTFORD
THE HOME AT MANDARIN, FLORIDA
PORTRAIT OF CALVIN ELLIS STOWE. From a photograph taken in
1882
PORTRAIT OF MRS. STOWE. From a photograph by Ritz and
Hastings, in 1884
THE LATER HARTFORD HOME
CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD, 1811-1824.
DEATH OF HER MOTHER.--FIRST JOURNEY FROM
HOME.--LIFE AT NUT PLAINS.-- SCHOOL DAYS AND HOURS
WITH FAVORITE AUTHORS.--THE NEW MOTHER.--
LITCHFIELD ACADEMY AND ITS INFLUENCE.--FIRST
LITERARY EFFORTS.--A REMARKABLE
COMPOSITION.--GOES TO HARTFORD.
Harriet Beecher (Stowe) was born June 14, 1811, in the characteristic

New England town of Litchfield, Conn. Her father was the Rev. Dr.
Lyman Beecher, a distinguished Calvinistic divine, her mother
Roxanna Foote, his first wife. The little new-comer was ushered into a
household of happy, healthy children, and found five brothers and
sisters awaiting her. The eldest was Catherine, born September 6, 1800.
Following her were two sturdy boys, William and Edward; then came
Mary, then George, and at last Harriet. Another little Harriet born three
years before had died when only one month old, and the fourth
daughter was named, in memory of this sister, Harriet Elizabeth
Beecher. Just two years after Harriet was born, in the same month,
another brother, Henry Ward, was welcomed to the family circle, and
after him came Charles, the last of Roxanna Beecher's children.
The first memorable incident of Harriet's life was the death of her
mother, which occurred when she was four years old, and which ever
afterwards remained with her as the tenderest, saddest, and most sacred
memory of her childhood. Mrs. Stowe's recollections of her mother are
found in a letter to her brother Charles, afterwards published in the
"Autobiography and Correspondence of Lyman Beecher." She says:--
"I was between three and four years of age when our mother died, and
my personal recollections of her are therefore but few. But the deep
interest and veneration that she inspired in all who knew her were such
that during all my childhood I was constantly hearing her spoken of,
and from one friend or another some incident or anecdote of her life
was constantly being impressed upon me.
"Mother was one of those strong, restful, yet widely sympathetic
natures in whom all around seemed to find comfort and repose. The
communion between her and my father was a peculiar one. It was an
intimacy throughout the whole range of their being. There was no
human mind in whose decisions he had greater confidence. Both
intellectually and morally he regarded her as the better and stronger
portion of himself, and I remember hearing him say that after her death
his first sensation was a sort of terror, like that of a child suddenly shut
out alone in the dark.
"In my own childhood only two incidents of my mother twinkle like

rays through the darkness. One was of our all running and dancing out
before her from the nursery to the sitting-room one Sabbath morning,
and her pleasant voice saying after us, 'Remember the Sabbath day to
keep it holy, children.'
"Another remembrance is this: mother was an enthusiastic horticulturist
in all the small ways that limited means allowed. Her brother John in
New York had just sent her a small parcel of fine tulip-bulbs. I
remember rummaging these out of an obscure corner of the nursery one
day when she was gone out, and being strongly seized with the idea
that they were good to eat, using all the little English I then possessed
to persuade my brothers that these were onions such as grown people
ate and would be very nice for us. So we fell to and devoured the whole,
and I recollect being somewhat disappointed in the odd sweetish taste,
and thinking that onions were