Life of Harriet Beecher Stowe | Page 5

large room, on one side
of which stood the bed appropriated to her and me, and on the other
that of my grandmother. My aunt Harriet was no common character. A
more energetic human being never undertook the education of a child.
Her ideas of education were those of a vigorous English woman of the
old school. She believed in the Church, and had she been born under
that regime would have believed in the king stoutly, although being of
the generation following the Revolution she was a not less stanch
supporter of the Declaration of Independence.
[Illustration: Roxanna Foote]
"According to her views little girls were to be taught to move very
gently, to speak softly and prettily, to say 'yes ma'am,' and 'no ma'am,'
never to tear their clothes, to sew, to knit at regular hours, to go to
church on Sunday and make all the responses, and to come home and
be catechised.
"During these catechisings she used to place my little cousin Mary and
myself bolt upright at her knee, while black Dinah and Harry, the
bound boy, were ranged at a respectful distance behind us; for Aunt
Harriet always impressed it upon her servants 'to order themselves

lowly and reverently to all their betters,' a portion of the Church
catechism that always pleased me, particularly when applied to them,
as it insured their calling me 'Miss Harriet,' and treating me with a
degree of consideration such as I never enjoyed in the more democratic
circle at home. I became proficient in the Church catechism, and gave
my aunt great satisfaction by the old-fashioned gravity and steadiness
with which I learned to repeat it.
"As my father was a Congregational minister, I believe Aunt Harriet,
though the highest of High Church women, felt some scruples as to
whether it was desirable that my religious education should be entirely
out of the sphere of my birth. Therefore when this catechetical exercise
was finished she would say, 'Now, niece, you have to learn another
catechism, because your father is a Presbyterian minister,'--and then
she would endeavor to make me commit to memory the Assembly
catechism.
"At this lengthening of exercise I secretly murmured. I was rather
pleased at the first question in the Church catechism, which is certainly
quite on the level of any child's understanding,--'What is your name?' It
was such an easy good start, I could say it so loud and clear, and I was
accustomed to compare it with the first question in the Primer, 'What is
the chief end of man?' as vastly more difficult for me to answer. In fact,
between my aunt's secret unbelief and my own childish impatience of
too much catechism, the matter was indefinitely postponed after a few
ineffectual attempts, and I was overjoyed to hear her announce
privately to grandmother that she thought it would be time enough for
Harriet to learn the Presbyterian catechism when she went home."
Mingled with this superabundance of catechism and plentiful
needlework the child was treated to copious extracts from Lowth's
Isaiah, Buchanan's Researches in Asia, Bishop Heber's Life, and Dr.
Johnson's Works, which, after her Bible and Prayer Book, were her
grandmother's favorite reading. Harriet does not seem to have fully
appreciated these; but she did enjoy her grandmother's comments upon
their biblical readings. Among the Evangelists especially was the old
lady perfectly at home, and her idea of each of the apostles was so

distinct and dramatic that she spoke of them as of familiar
acquaintances. She would, for instance, always smile indulgently at
Peter's remarks and say, "There he is again, now; that's just like Peter.
He's always so ready to put in."
It must have been during this winter spent at Nut Plains, amid such
surroundings, that Harriet began committing to memory that wonderful
assortment of hymns, poems, and scriptural passages from which in
after years she quoted so readily and effectively, for her sister
Catherine, in writing of her the following November, says:--
"Harriet is a very good girl. She has been to school all this summer, and
has learned to read very fluently. She has committed to memory
twenty-seven hymns and two long chapters in the Bible. She has a
remarkably retentive memory and will make a very good scholar."
At this time the child was five years old, and a regular attendant at
"Ma'am Kilbourne's" school on West Street, to which she walked every
day hand in hand with her chubby, rosy-faced, bare-footed, four-year-
old brother, Henry Ward. With the ability to read germinated the
intense literary longing that was to be hers through life. In those days
but few books were specially prepared for children, and at six years of
age we find the little girl hungrily searching for mental food amid
barrels of old sermons