Letter to Susan Walker Morse

after the painting, “Portrait of Susan Walker Morse,” ca 1820

Part 2

July 3, 2009

Dear Susan Walker Morse,

You do not know me, and probably never will.  In reality, I do not know you that well either.  I know you are now in heaven, and will never receive this letter, but I feel like I should write you because I am intrigued by a picture of you as a baby.  I also think I might have discovered a dark, hidden secret about your life that was probably not all that different from any other nineteenth-century woman.  Before I reveal my findings, though, I want to briefly tell you about myself.

My name is Bethany Hunt and I am a student at Marshall University in Huntington, West Virginia.  One day, while visiting the Huntington Museum of Art, I was drawn to a painting of you as a small child.  I must admit that my initial reaction was one of horror because you did not resemble any other twenty-first century infant that I have ever seen.  Of course, that is obviously because you are not a twenty-first century child, but rather a product of the 1800’s.  I went over to the picture and attempted to read about you, but did not because I had a task at hand:  I needed to write about you in my journal so that I could go back and share my writing with others.  So, you see, I really don’t know much about your life, although I still think your painting reveals something about you.

I will be blunt:  did you grow up too soon?  You may not understand what I mean, so let me explain.  In my twenty-first century world, normal children spend well over four years of their life as a child.  Parents do not expect that their young children will acquire impeccable manners, the ability to listen to other people’s opinions rather than their own, or dress in adult-like clothes.  Americans in 2009 do not assume that their infants or toddlers will have the manners of a mature adult.  Yet your portrait in the Huntington Museum of Art reveals that you may not have had the luxuries that modern children enjoy.

For instance, I noticed that you were wearing what we call “blush” (but you almost certainly knew it as “rouge”) on your plump cheeks.  Your lips are also outlined with red lipstick.  At the age of one year, a child is not really old enough to wear makeup.  After all, I didn’t wear makeup until I was eleven or twelve years old.  Why, then, are you wearing makeup at such a very young age?

Secondly, I see from your picture that you were wearing a burgundy, brick-red gown with slightly draped sleeves when the artist drew your portrait.  There are small puffs at the shoulders and a green ribbon loosely tied at your breast.  Once again, I am struck by the maturity that your dress adds to your small frame.

All of these observations have led me to the conclusion that you probably grew up too soon.  I surmise that you didn’t get to enjoy being a child, and that you were introduced to the hardships of life at a shockingly small age.  Several questions arise, and I yearn to know the answers.  What sort of childhood did you lead?  Was it lonely?  What was expected of you?  Did you know the death of a loved one at an early age?  Where you exposed to disease too soon?  What was your life like as an adult?  Did you have children of your own?

I know you will never be able to reply to this letter, but it is still therapeutic to ask you these questions anyway.  I sincerely hope that your childhood was a happy one and that you did not, as I put it, “grow up too soon.”

Sincerely,

Bethany Hunt

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