Maria Mitchell: Life, Letters, and Journals — Context and Discussion

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Mitchell, Maria, 1818-1889, Kendall, Phebe Mitchell [Compiler] Project Gutenberg 2003
Astronomers -- United States -- Biography; Mitchell, Maria, 1818-1889; Women astronomers -- United States -- Biography Readers of public-domain and historical texts
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Words: 83,653
Reading time: 364 min
Text sections: 8
This compilation of Maria Mitchell's letters and journals reveals the astronomer's sharp observations on science, society, and travel, with particular attention to the movement between observatories, the recurring image of Galileo, and the structural contrast between domestic Nantucket and European intellectual circles.
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e was the third child of William and Lydia [Coleman] Mitchell.

Her ancestors, on both sides, were Quakers for many generations; and it was in consequence of the intolerance of the early Puritans that these ancestors had been obliged to flee from the State of Massachusetts, and to settle upon this island, which, at that time, belonged to the State of New York.

For many years the Quakers, or Friends, as they called themselves, formed much the larger part of the inhabitants of Nantucket, and thus were enabled to crystallize, as it were, their own ideas of what family and social life should be; and although in course of time many "world's people" swooped down and helped to swell the number of islanders, they still continued to hold their own methods, and to bring up their children in accordance with their own conceptions of "Divine light."

Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell were married during the war of 1812; the former lacking one week of being twenty-one years old, and the latter being a few months over twenty.

The people of Nantucket by their situation endured many hardships during this period; their ships were upon the sea a prey to privateers, and communication with the mainland was exposed to the same danger, so that it was difficult to obtain such necessaries of life as the island could not furnish. There were still to be seen, a few years ago, the marks left on the moors, where fields of corn and potatoes had been planted in that trying time.

So the young couple began their housekeeping in a very simple way. Mr. Mitchell used to describe it as being very delightful; it was noticed that Mrs. Mitchell never expressed herself on the subject,--it was she, probably, who had the planning to do, to make a little money go a great way, and to have everything smooth and serene when her husband came home.

Mrs. Mitchell was a woman of strong character, very dignified, honest almost to an extreme, and perfectly self-controlled where control was necessary. She possessed very strong affections, but her self-control was such that she was undemonstrative.

She kept a close watch over her children, was clearheaded, knew their every fault and every merit, and was an indefatigable worker. It was she who looked out for the education of the children and saw what their capacities were.

Mr. Mitchell was a man of great suavity and gentleness; if left to himself he would never have denied a single request made to him by one of his children. His first impulse was to gratify every desire of their hearts, and if it had not been for the clear head of the mother, who took care that the household should be managed wisely and economically, the results might have been disastrous. The father had wisdom enough to perceive this, and when a child came to him, and in a very pathetic and winning way proffered some request for an unusual indulgence, he generally replied, "Yes, if mother thinks best."

Mr. Mitchell was very fond of bright colors; as they were excluded from the dress of Friends, he indulged himself wherever it was possible. If he were buying books, and there was a variety of binding, he always chose the copies with red covers. Even the wooden framework of the reflecting telescope which he used was painted a brilliant red. He liked a gay carpet on the floor, and the walls of the family sitting-room in the house on Vestal street were covered with paper resplendent with bunches of pink roses. Suspended by a cord from the ceiling in the centre of this room was a glass ball, filled with water, used by Mr. Mitchell in his experiments on polarization of light, flashing its dancing rainbows about the room.

At the back of this house was a little garden, full of gay flowers: so that if the garb of the young Mitchells was rather sombre, the setting was bright and cheerful, and the life in the home was healthy and wide-awake. When the hilarity became excessive the mother would put in her little check, from time to time, and the father would try to look as he ought to, but he evidently enjoyed the whole.

As Mr. Mitchell was kind and indulgent to his children, so he was the sympathetic friend and counsellor of many in trouble who came to him for help or advice. As he took his daily walk to the little farm about a mile out of town, where, for an hour or two he enjoyed being a farmer, the people would come to their doors to speak to him as he passed, and the little children would run up to him to be patted on the head.

He treated animals in the same way. He generally kept a horse. His children complained that although the horse was good when it was bought, yet as Mr. Mitchell never allowed it to be struck with a whip, nor urged to go at other than a very gentle trot, the horse became thoroughly demoralized, and was no more fit to drive than an old cow!

There was everything in the home which could amuse and instruct children. The eldest daughter was very handy at all sorts of entertaining occupations; she had a delicate sense of the artistic, and was quite skilful with her pencil.

The present kindergarten system in its practice is almost identical with the home as it appeared in the first half of this century, among enlightened people. There is hardly any kind of handiwork done in the kindergarten that was not done in the Mitchell family, and in other families of their acquaintance. The girls learned to sew and cook, just as they learned to read,--as a matter of habit rather than of instruction. They learned how to make their own clothes, by making their dolls' clothes,--and the dolls themselves were frequently home-made, the eldest sister painting the faces much more prettily than those obtained at the shops; and there was a great delight in gratifying the fancy, by dressing the dolls, not in Quaker garb, but in all of the most brilliant colors and stylish shapes worn by the ultra-fashionable.

There were always plenty of books, and besides those in the house there was the Atheneum Library, which, although not a free library, was very inexpensive to the shareholders.

There was another very striking difference between that epoch and the present. The children of that day were taught to value a book and to take excellent care of it; as an instance it may be mentioned that one copy of Colburn's "Algebra" was used by eight children in the Mitchell family, one after the other. The eldest daughter's name was written on the inside of the cover; seven more names followed in the order of their ages, as the book descended.

With regard to their reading, the mother examined every book that came into the house. Of course there were not so many books published then as now, and the same books were read over and over. Miss Edgeworth's stories became part of their very lives, and Young's "Night Thoughts," and the poems of Cowper and Bloomfield were conspicuous objects on the bookshelves of most houses in those days. Mr. Mitchell was very apt, while observing the heavens in the evening, to quote from one or the other of these poets, or from the Bible. "An undevout astronomer is mad" was one of his favorite quotations.

Among the poems which Maria learned in her childhood, and which was repeatedly upon her lips all through her life, was, "The spacious firmament on high." In her latter years if she had a sudden fright which threatened to take away her senses she would test her mental condition by repeating that poem; it is needless to say that she always remembered it, and her nerves instantly relapsed into their natural condition.

The lives of Maria Mitchell and her numerous brothers and sisters were passed in simplicity and with an entire absence of anything exciting or abnormal.

The education of their children is enjoined upon the parents by the "Discipline," and in those days at least the parents did not give up all the responsibility in that line to the teachers. In Maria Mitchell's childhood the children of a family sat around the table in the evenings and studied their lessons for the next day,--the parents or the older children assisting the younger if the lessons were too difficult. The children attended school five days in the week,--six hours in the day,--and their only vacation was four weeks in the summer, generally in August.

The idea that children over-studied and injured their health was never promulgated in that family, nor indeed in that community; it seems to be a notion of the present half-century.

Maria's first teacher was a lady for whom she always felt the warmest affection, and in her diary, written in her later years, occurs this allusion to her:

"I count in my life, outside of family relatives, three aids given me on my journey; they are prominent to me: the woman who first made the study-book charming; the man who sent me the first hundred dollars I ever saw, to buy books with; and another noble woman, through whose efforts I became the owner of a telescope; and of these, the first was the greatest."

As a little girl, Maria was not a brilliant scholar; she was shy and slow; but later, under her father's tuition, she developed very rapidly.

After the close of the war of 1812, when business was resumed and the town restored to its normal prosperity, Mr. Mitchell taught school,--at first as master of a public school, and afterwards in a private school of his own. Maria attended both of these schools.

Mr. Mitchell's pupils speak of him as a most inspiring teacher, and he always spoke of his experiences in that capacity as very happy.

When her father gave up teaching, Maria was put under the instruction of Mr. Cyrus Peirce, afterwards principal of the first normal school started in the United States.

Mr. Peirce took a great interest in Maria, especially in developing her taste for mathematical study, for which she early showed a remarkable talent.

The books which she studied at the age of seventeen, as we know by the date of the notes, were Bridge's "Conic Sections," Hutton's "Mathematics," and Bowditch's "Navigator." At that time Prof. Benjamin Peirce had not published his "Explanations of the Navigator and Almanac," so that Maria was obliged to consult many scientific books and reports before she could herself construct the astronomical tables.

Mr. Mitchell, on relinquishing school-teaching, was appointed cashier of the Pacific Bank; but although he gave up teaching, he by no means gave up studying his favorite science, astronomy, and Maria was his willing helper at all times.

Mr. Mitchell from his early youth was an enthusiastic student of astronomy, at a time, too, when very little attention was given to that study in this country. His evenings, when pleasant, were spent in observing the heavens, and to the children, accustomed to seeing such observations going on, the important study in the world seemed to be astronomy. One by one, as they became old enough, they were drafted into the service of counting seconds by the chronometer, during the observations.

Some of them took an interest in the thing itself, and others considered it rather stupid work, but they all drank in so much of this atmosphere, that if any one had asked a little child in this family, "Who was the greatest man that ever lived?" the answer would have come promptly, "Herschel."

Maria very early learned the use of the sextant. The chronometers of all the whale ships were brought to Mr. Mitchell, on their return from a voyage, to be "rated," as it was called. For this purpose he used the sextant, and the observations were made in the little back yard of the Vestal-street home.

There was also a clumsy reflecting telescope made on the Herschelian plan, but of very great simplicity, which was put up on fine nights in the same back yard, when the neighbors used to flock in to look at the moon. Afterwards Mr. Mitchell bought a small Dolland telescope, which thereafter, as long as she lived, his daughter used for "sweeping" purposes.

After their removal to the bank building there were added to these an "altitude and azimuth circle," loaned to Mr. Mitchell by West Point Academy, and two transit instruments. A little observatory for the use of the first was placed on the roof of the bank building, and two small buildings were erected in the yard for the transits. There was also a much larger and finer telescope loaned by the Coast Survey, for which service Mr. Mitchell made observations.

At the time when Maria Mitchell showed a decided taste for the study of astronomy there was no school in the world where she could be taught higher mathematics and astronomy. Harvard College, at that time, had no telescope better than the one which her father was using, and no observatory except the little octagonal projection to the old mansion in Cambridge occupied by the late Dr. A.P. Peabody.

However, every one will admit that no school nor institution is better for a child than the home, with an enthusiastic parent for a teacher.

At the time of the annular eclipse of the sun in 1831 the totality was central at Nantucket. The window was taken out of the parlor on Vestal street, the telescope, the little Dolland, mounted in front of it, and with Maria by his side counting the seconds the father observed the eclipse. Maria was then twelve years old.

At sixteen Miss Mitchell left Mr. Peirce's school as a pupil, but was retained as assistant teacher; she soon relinquished that position and opened a private school on Traders' Lane. This school too she gave up for the position of librarian of the Nantucket Atheneum, which office she held for nearly twenty years.

This library was open only in the afternoon, and on Saturday evening. The visitors were comparatively few in the afternoon, so that Miss Mitchell had ample leisure for study,--an opportunity of which she made the most. Her visitors in the afternoon were elderly men of leisure, who enjoyed talking with so bright a girl on their favorite hobbies. When they talked Miss Mitchell closed her book and took up her knitting, for she was never idle. With some of these visitors the friendship was kept up for years.

It was in this library that she found La Place's "Mécanique Céleste," translated by her father's friend, Dr. Bowditch; she also read the "Theoria Motus," of Gauss, in its original Latin form. In her capacity as librarian Miss Mitchell to a large extent controlled the reading of the young people in the town. Many of them on arriving at mature years have expressed their gratitude for the direction in which their reading was turned by her advice.

Miss Mitchell always had a special friendship for young girls and boys. Many of these intimacies grew out of the acquaintance made at the library,--the young girls made her their confidante and went to her for sympathy and advice. The boys, as they grew up, and went away to sea, perhaps, always remembered her, and made a point, when they returned in their vacations, of coming to tell their experiences to such a sympathetic listener.

"April 18, 1855. A young sailor boy came to see me to-day. It pleases me to have these lads seek me on their return from their first voyage, and tell me how much they have learned about navigation. They always say, with pride, 'I can take a lunar, Miss Mitchell, and work it up!'

"This boy I had known only as a boy, but he has suddenly become a man and seems to be full of intelligence. He will go once more as a sailor, he says, and then try for the position of second mate. He looked as if he had been a good boy and would make a good man.

"He said that he had been ill so much that he had been kept out of temptation; but that the forecastle of a ship was no place for improvement of mind or morals. He said the captain with whom he came home asked him if he knew me, because he had heard of me. I was glad to find that the captain was a man of intelligence and had been kind to the boy."

Miss Mitchell was an inveterate reader. She devoured books on all subjects. If she saw that boys were eagerly reading a certain book she immediately read it; if it were harmless she encouraged them to read it; if otherwise, she had a convenient way of _losing_ the book. In November, when the trustees made their annual examination, the book appeared upon the shelf, but the next day after it was again lost. At this time Nantucket was a thriving, busy town. The whale-fishery was a very profitable business, and the town was one of the wealthiest in the State. There was a good deal of social and literary life. In a Friend's family neither music nor dancing was allowed.

Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell were by no means narrow sectarians, but they believed it to be best to conform to the rules of Friends as laid down in the "Discipline." George Fox himself, the founder of the society, had blown a blast against music, and especially instrumental music in churches. It will be remembered that the Methodists have but recently yielded to the popular demand in this respect, and have especially favored congregational singing.

It is most likely that George Fox had no ear for music himself, and thus entailed upon his followers an obligation from which they are but now freeing themselves.

There was plenty of singing in the Mitchell family, and the parents liked it, especially the father, who, when he sat down in the evening with the children, would say, "Now sing something." But there could be no instruction in singing; the children sang the songs that they picked up from their playmates.

However, one of the daughters bought a piano, and Maria's purse opened to help that cause along. It would not have been proper for Mr. Mitchell to help pay for it, but he took a great interest in it, nevertheless. So indeed did the mother, but she took care not to express herself outwardly.

The piano was kept in a neighboring building not too far off to be heard from the house. Maria had no ear for music herself, but she was always to be depended upon to take the lead in an emergency, so the sisters put their heads together and decided that the piano must be brought into the house. When they had made all the preparations the father and mother were invited to take tea with their married daughter, who lived in another part of the town and had been let into the secret.

The piano was duly removed and placed in an upper room called the "hall," where Mr. Mitchell kept the chronometers, where the family sewing was done, and where the larger part of the books were kept,--a beautiful room, overlooking "the square," and a great gathering-place for all their young friends. When the piano was put in place, the sisters awaited the coming of the parents. Maria stationed herself at the foot of the stairs, ready to meet them as they entered the front door; another, half-way between, was to give the signal to a third, who was seated at the piano. The footsteps were heard at the door, the signal was given; a lively tune was started, and Maria confronted the parents as they entered.

"What's that?" was the exclamation.

"Well," said Maria, soothingly, "we've had the piano brought over."

"Why, of all things!" exclaimed the mother.

The father laid down his hat, walked immediately upstairs, entered the hall, and said, "Come, daughter, play something lively!"

But that was not all for Mr. Mitchell; he had broken the rules accepted by the Friends, and it was necessary for some notice to be taken of it, so a dear old Friend and neighbor came to deal with him. Now, to be "under dealings," as it is called, was a very serious matter,--to be spoken of only under the breath, in a half whisper.

"I hear that thee has a piano in thy house," said the old Friend.

"Yes, my daughters have," was the reply.

"But it is in thy house," pursued the Friend.

Maria Mitchell’s letters and journals, compiled by her sister Phebe Mitchell Kendall, move restlessly between domestic Nantucket, the American South, and European observatories. The structure of the collection—alternating diary entries, correspondence, and travel narratives—mirrors Mitchell’s own habit of shifting between the personal and the professional. A recurring image is that of Galileo: Mitchell returns to his trial and its proximity to the modern Roman observatory, noting that “the spot where Galileo was tried is very near the site of the present observatory.” This juxtaposition of past persecution and present scientific practice becomes a lens through which she views her own position as a woman in astronomy.

From Nantucket to Rome: The Shape of a Scientific Life

The book’s structure is not chronological in a strict sense. Early chapters cover Mitchell’s youth, her discovery of a comet in 1847, and her work as librarian of the Nantucket Atheneum. But the narrative soon breaks into extended travel accounts: a Southern tour in Chapter IV, a first European tour in Chapters V–VII. This movement is not merely geographical. Mitchell’s voice shifts between the diarist recording “listless strolling among ruins” and the correspondent analyzing the social customs of slave states or the hierarchy of papal institutions. The compiler, Phebe Mitchell Kendall, has arranged the material so that the reader experiences the same kind of intellectual pivoting that Mitchell herself practiced—from computing a comet’s orbit to gathering “land shells from the top of the Coliseum.”

Galileo’s Shadow: A Recurring Figure of Authority and Resistance

Galileo appears repeatedly in Mitchell’s writings, not as a distant historical figure but as a living presence. In her account of visiting Rome, she describes the Hall of Sopre Minerva where Galileo was tried, and notes that “if a cardinal should … call out to Secchi, ‘Watchman, what of the night?’ Secchi could hear the question.” The image ties the old persecution to the new observatory. Mitchell also recounts the anecdote of Galileo whispering “It does move” after his recantation. She uses this story to frame her own encounter with Father Secchi, who refused her request to visit the Roman Observatory because of her gender and religion. The Galileo motif thus becomes a way for Mitchell to articulate the tension between institutional authority and scientific inquiry—a tension she experienced firsthand.

The Observatory as Sanctuary and Barrier

Observatories are central settings in Mitchell’s narrative, but they function differently depending on location. At Greenwich, she visits Sir George Airy and describes the instruments with technical precision. In Rome, the observatory is a forbidden space: “I did not know that my heretic feet must not enter the sanctuary—that my woman’s robe must not brush the seats of learning.” The word “sanctuary” is telling—Mitchell treats the observatory as a kind of sacred space, one from which she is excluded. Yet she also subverts this exclusion by meeting Secchi in her own rooms, where he shows her negatives of Saturn. The domestic space becomes a substitute observatory. This pattern recurs throughout the book: Mitchell often conducts astronomical work in makeshift settings, whether on a ship or in a parlor.

Movement Between Scenes: Diary, Letter, and Travelogue

The book’s formal variety—diary entries, letters, and continuous travel narratives—creates a rhythm of intimacy and distance. Diary passages tend to be reflective and compressed: “It seems to be difficult for any one to take in the idea that two truths cannot conflict.” Letters are more conversational, often addressed to her father and full of practical details about instruments and travel. The travel sections, especially those describing the Southern tour, adopt a reporter’s tone, noting the “slave market” and “negro church” with a mixture of curiosity and moral unease. This alternation of genres prevents any single voice from dominating. The reader moves with Mitchell from the solitude of the Nantucket observatory to the crowded receptions of Paris and London, always aware that the same person who computed a comet’s orbit also picked violets in the Palace of the Caesars.

Readers who approach this collection expecting a straightforward autobiography will find instead a mosaic of perspectives. The editorial hand of Phebe Mitchell Kendall is light but consequential: she has preserved the fragmentary quality of the original materials, allowing Mitchell’s voice to emerge in its full range—from the technical to the lyrical, the indignant to the amused. Pay attention to the dates and places that head each entry; they are the only map through a life that refused to stay still.

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    Michael Christensen - 3 weeks ago
    Maria Mitchell's 'Life, Letters, and Journals' is a treasure trove of 19th-century intellectual life. Her witty observations on science, society, and womanhood are both inspiring and deeply personal. As the first American woman astronomer, her voice resonates with passion and intelligence. This collection offers a rare glimpse into a pioneering mind, making it essential reading for anyone interested in astronomy, women's history, or the power of curiosity.

  • ...
    Lauren Atkins - 1 week ago
    While Maria Mitchell's achievements are undeniable, this collection fails to offer a cohesive narrative. The letters are repetitive, focusing heavily on domestic details rather than her astronomical work. The editing is sparse, leaving many references unexplained. For a modern reader, the pacing drags, and the lack of scientific depth is disappointing. A more focused biography would serve Mitchell's legacy better than this scattered assortment.

  • ...
    Tammy Douglas - 1 week ago
    This compilation provides an intimate look at Maria Mitchell's world, blending personal letters with scientific insights. Her perspective is refreshingly candid, and the historical context is rich. However, the organization can feel disjointed, with some letters lacking clear dates or context, which may confuse readers seeking a linear narrative. Still, for fans of Mitchell or 19th-century science, it's a worthwhile, if somewhat dry, read.


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