The Female Prose Writers of America/Harriet Farley
HARRIET FARLEY.
Soon after the commencement of the present century, a young minister, named Stephen Farley, was settled in the beautiful town of Claremont, New Hampshire, his native State; and, as the rich soil on the banks of the Connecticut was full of good things for the present, and good promise for the future; as the lively falls of Sugar river could be induced to turn their active energies to the accumulation of comforts and wealth; the new preacher was easily persuaded to bring a young bride to alleviate his cares and heighten his joys. She was born in Massachusetts, the child of a father who had derived so rich an inheritance that, in her early childhood, it might not have been supposed the daughter would ever be called upon to eke out a frugally genteel subsistence by school teaching. Such, however, was her employment in Maine, where she went to reside with her mother, after the sudden death of her father. That mother was of the celebrated “Moody” family, so well known once throughout New England, and not yet extinct, being still, whether on the high seas, or near the forests of their native State, or in the metropolis of that section of the country, or at the capital of the Union, or away in the new cities of the far West—being everywhere distinguished for cultivation, urbanity, hospitality, family pride, patriotism, and all those qualities which distinguish the gentry of the “old school.”
“Father Moody,” so often quoted in the provincial history of New England, was the ancestor of this family. “Handkerchief Moody,” his son, the hero of Hawthorne’s story of “The Minister’s Veil,” is embalmed in many memories for his piety and affliction. He committed an accidental murder, and ever after covered his face from his fellow men. “Master Moody,” the celebrated preceptor of “Dummer Academy,” wished that his niece had been a man, that he might have given her a collegiate education. She was remarkable not only for intellectual qualities, but for the graceful dignity becoming to any woman.
After her husband’s death, she went with her children to the old town of York, in the District of Maine, and thither the young New Hampshire minister repaired to find, in her daughter, his future helpmeet. She was a beautiful and very animated woman, with fine taste, much wit, and unusual conversational powers. Among her rejected admirers were those who have since become Judges, and otherwise “potent, grave, and reverend seigniors.” The calm, studious, sober minister, was her choice; and, in an humble country cottage, she reared her little brood of children.
But afflictions came. Ill health and mental disquiet, the conflict of a speculative mind with venerated creeds and cherished belief, impaired the energies of the father. And then the dark cloud, that had cast its gloom over Handkerchief Moody’s life, and settled in blackness over the close of her father’s, cast its fearful shadow upon the mother’s mind; and, through her, a sombre shade upon her family. Some years after, the mental sun broke through this cloud, and shone for a long time within the homestead; then again came the sad eclipse which, in this world, may never pass away. During the interval of brightness, came the tenth, and last, of the household band, more than half of whom have been taken away.
Harriet Farley was the sixth of these children. She was born amidst the beautiful scenery of the Connecticut valley, but educated, principally, in the quiet town of Atkinson, New Hampshire, where her father was both pastor of the parish and preceptor of the academy.
Prior to her fifteenth year, her advantages were good for obtaining an English and classical education. But she often expresses her regret that these advantages were not duly appreciated; that she was deprived in a great measure of a mother’s influence, and gave to light literature and social enjoyment too much of the golden hours that should have been devoted to more solid intellectual acquisitions.
At the age of fifteen the truth came home to the poor minister’s daughter, that upon herself she must henceforth depend for her subsistence. School teaching, sewing, straw plaiting, and shoe binding, were successively tried, but none suited; and so she went to the factory. Here she perseveringly laboured for several years, returning home when the sick or dying required her presence, and once leaving the mills for several months to attend school.
In 1840 the “Improvement Circle” was established, to which she became a constant contributor. Soon after, the establishment of the “Lowell Offering” disseminated the knowledge of these mill-girls’ efforts throughout our own and other countries. Though the work first attracted attention as a mere literary novelty, it was not destitute of intrinsic merit; and the writers were stimulated by praise and patronage. Miss Farley was invited to edit the third volume, a task which she combined with mill-labour. With editorial labours she combined the care of the “Home Department,” in publishing the fourth, fifth, and sixth volumes. The seventh volume she edited and published alone, charging herself with all the duties of editor, publisher, and agent. The book-keeping, mailing, canvassing, and all else, devolved on her. Since that time she has employed an assistant, to mail the numbers, keep office, and accounts, and do the stitching and folding.
She has contributed but little to other publications. Her literary claims and history are pretty much confined to that of the “Offering.” This work has gained kind notices, in Great Britain, Germany, and France, from eminent literati. Compilations from it have been published in England and Scotland, and there have been some translations in foreign tongues.
The first article, written expressly for publication, was “Abby’s Year in Lowell,” a story which was reprinted in Edinburgh, by the Messrs. Chambers, in their series of cheap publications for the million. It is, perhaps, as good a specimen of her style as can be given.