Catharine Maria Sedgwick Online Letters

Stockbridge March 24th 1807

Your letter to Mama, my Sister, if I had been culpable enough to neglect you, would have stung me to the heart; but so conscious am I of not having deserved it, that it only excited something very like indignation. A tacit reproach of the kind conveyed in your letter, is a a thousand times more poignant, than clamorous upbraidings. Could I omit any evidence of affection towards a Sister, who has endeared herself to me, by every exercise of tenderness, that the warmest, and best affections of her heart could prompt; you might stigmatize me as a Monster of ingratitude, and depravity. I am willing, indeed I am anxious to beleive, your letter was written in a moment of vexation; when domestic cares, and consequent fatigue oppressed you, and you had neither spirits, nor time, to reflect upon the quantity of letters, you had received from me this winter. Of their quality I say nothing; for although self-love often blinds me, yet in this instance I am confident that I am as sensible as you can be, of the total absence of every thing that is pleasing, or instructive, vivacious, or gay, from my letters. In a dispassionate moment I know my dear Frances will regret, having excited emotions so painful, and drawn tears from me (not tears of penitence for penitence implies previous offecence) impelled by a conviction of my inferiority, for was I not the most insignificant Being on earth 2 my letters would be remembered, if not acknowledged. This is humiliating my Sister, but I will endeavor to cultivate every good affection that I may secure to myself your love though I cannot your admiration . . . The roses of health still bloom on the cheeks of our dear little cherub. Although his Grand papa is absent, yet in his unvaried sweetness of temper, I perceive the effects of my constant discipline. Never was there love more strong, more lively than he evinces for his Unworthy Aunt Catharine. If I mention our approaching separation, he bursts into a passion of tears, throws my his little arms around my neck, and exclaims, I won’t leave my Aunty; Aunty can’t live without me; I wont go to New York without Aunty -- -- -- Dear boy: you have chased away the sadness of many hours, when absent from you, I should have been envelloped in gloom; How often your innocence, your more than earthly sweetness has brightened, and dissipated our solitude; Oh! may Heaven my love, shower down upon you his richest, purest treasures . . . . .

I have written constantly since early yesterday morning, & now it is 12 Oclock Wednesday night; my hand is cramped and pained excessively from remaining such a length of time in one position; & my ideas which you well know at the best are bad enough, entirely exhausted & finally my pen so worn out, that without the precious guessing faculty of a Yankey, I should never suspect what it had been 3 in its better days. Poor thing, I will bury it with funeral honors, and venerate its memory for the good it has done essential services it has rendered me -- -- You have ere this acknowledged the truth of my prediction in relation to our Brother. His prudence for a short time triumphed over his love, but the latter, aroused a second time, by the intreaties of his friends has (I think) finally prevailed; & he is now meditating not if, but how, he shall surrender his heart, and its “clayey tenement” 1 . . . . . .

Mama continues very comfortable, more we cannot expect, & for this I hope we are sincerely grateful. She was very much gratified with your letter, the first I believe that you have written her this winter: I do not mean to reproach you my dear Frances, but merely to intimate, how much happiness, such a favor from you confers upon her.

Remember me most tenderly to my ever dear Brother; and tell my little Theodore that if we send his Brother to New York, he must come to Stockbridge, for without either of them we cannot exist. My sweet interesting little Cate will I hope learn next Summer to love her Aunty. . .

Adieu my dearest Frances; that every felicity of life may be yours, is the sincere prayer of

Your affectionate Catharine -- -- -- -- 4

Letter

Massachusetts Historical Society

Sedgwick Family Papers VI

Wax blot and tears; the address area includes a return address of Stockbridge/March 26

Mrs Frances Watson/No 118 Liberty Street/New York

C M S. 1807

C M. Sedgwick

1

Likely a reference to "Epitaph on the Lady Mary Villiers," a 1640 poem by English Poet Thomas Carew.