The Coquette | Page 4

We know
"Through lacerations takes the spirit wing, And in the heart's long death
throe grasps true life."
One little remark which has been suffered to creep into his Memoirs is,
however, of peculiar significance. I quote it here.
In speaking of Connecticut to a friend, he says, "My place was there; I
always wished that state to be my home; but Providence has directed
my line of duty far away from the place of my first affections."
He also--as one who had every means of knowing the fact has informed
me--was deeply affected on reading the "romance" here following, and
at the time remarked that, had the author been personally acquainted
(not knowing that she was) with the circumstances of his engagement
with Elizabeth Whitman, she could not have described them with more
graphic truth.
The Hon. Pierrepont Edwards, to whom was given the preference and
precedence above referred to, and who is made to assume in the
chapters of the novel the name of "Sanford," was the son of Rev.
Jonathan Edwards, president of Princeton College, New Jersey. His
maternal grandmother was Esther, the second daughter of the Rev.
Solomon Stoddard, and sister to the paternal grandmother of Elizabeth

Whitman, the wife of Rev. Samuel Whitman before mentioned. A Mr.
Burt has by some been identified with this "Sanford," the rival of
"Boyer," yet without the least pretension in history to authenticity. Nor
can we place much reliance upon the letters here introduced as his in
point of originality, as there is sufficient reason for believing that these
are, for the most part, of the author's invention, founded upon the
current reputation of his after years. And we may be happy in so
considering them, since they would betray a character, even in earliest
manhood, too depraved and debased for honorable mention, although
his errors were no doubt altogether beyond the palliation of a woman's
pen. Yet we would fain look at him, in youth at least, as undebauched
and uncorrupt, however stained may be the record of his manhood.
Between him and Elizabeth Whitman there was, notwithstanding, over
all and under all, a close affinity of spirit; and there is no question,
aside from the frailties and objections which the writer of the romance
has introduced, that there was a marriage of the soul, superseding all
after ties which worldliness and depravity might have consummated,
that overshadows sin, and may not pass into our reckoning. Not only
such a marriage, but one, though secret, actually sanctioned by the laws
of the land, she is known to have declared a fact previous to her death.
Question this who may, that deep down under the impulses of surging
passion there existed a purer and holier affection for her, is in history
sufficiently clear. They had been set in family connection, intimate by
kin, intimate in earliest life by every outward tie, and especially
intimate by the subtile affinities of their spiritual natures. Yet he who
can, under any circumstances, entreat the love of woman, and then take
advantage of her weakness or her confidence, is an anomaly in nature,
and should have a special, judiciary here and in heaven.
Since so much of the romance here following is truth, veritable truth, it
is to be regretted that any error of historical character was suffered to
assume importance in the narrative. Yet this is so often the case in
works of this kind, that it is not remarkable here. More surprising is it
that truth was so carefully and conscientiously guarded and preserved.
In conflicting statements, it is difficult to determine the precise year of
the marriage of Mr. Edwards, whether before or after the death of
"Eliza Wharton," although it may have been long before, even as one of
his biographers has it, and that recklessness and extravagance may have

lifted him to a too fearful height from the calm Eden of love and honor,
till he at length compromised the influence of both to baser avarice.
That he married Frances Ogden, of Elizabeth-town, New Jersey, for his
first wife, is the fact, and the date given is 1769. Yet the ciphers may be
questioned, I think, as it would make him but nineteen years of age at
the time of the event, besides other considerations which make it
appear more doubtful still.
He was, however, as has been already stated, the eleventh and youngest
child of Rev. Jonathan Edwards, and was born in Northampton,
Massachusetts, Sabbath. His biographer has been particularly faithful
in thus recording it, as if the hallowed influences of the Sabbath upon
birth have a bearing on subsequent life, and were in his case either
strikingly marked or missed. He was born, then, Sabbath, April 8, 1750,
and was cousin, in good or evil, to the notorious