Francesca Anna Canfield
Francesca Anna Canfield (pen name, Salonina; August 1803 – Mary 23, 1833) was an American linguist, poet,[1] and translator. In writing, she seemed to have been constantly under the influence of the advice thus given to Pindar: "Moderate your fire; the axle of your chariot-wheels bums too soon."[2]
Francesca Anna Canfield | |
|---|---|
| Born | Francisca Anna Pascalis August 1803 Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S. |
| Died | May 28, 1823 |
| Pen name | Salonina |
| Occupation | linguist, poet, translator |
| Language | English |
| Nationality | American |
| Spouse | Palmer Canfield |
| Children | 4 |
Early years and education
Francisca Anna Pascalis was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in August, 1803. She was the daughter of Felix Pascalis, M.D distinguished in the medical and philosophical world, for his numerous dissertations on abstruse subjects, for his practice in the yellow fever, and other extraordinary disorders, and as a political economist, who has made great exertions in introducing into the United States the Chinese mulberry tree, in order to encourage the making of silk in this country.[2] Her mother was a native of Philadelphia. Her parents resided for some years after their marriage in Philadelphia. While she was a child, her parents removed to New York City, where Dr. Pascalis was conspicuous not only for his professional abilities, but for his writings upon various curious and abstruse subjects in philosophy, and was intimate with many eminent persons, among whom was Dr. Samuel L. Mitchill.[3]
She did not have any extraordinary advantages of education. Her father was too busy in his professional and philosophical pursuits, to pay much attention to his daughter's education, and her mother went no farther in the course of her studies, than to see that she was industrious, and could give a good account of her time.[2]
In school, Canfield was at the head of her class, and acquired languages with such readiness, that her instructors often suspected her father of devoting his time to bringing her forward, when he hardly knew what she was studying at the time. She made translations from the French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, for mere amusement, or for school exercises; and many of them were preserved by her friends, and showed unquestionable evidences of genius. She early caught the spirit of universal grammar, and found no difficulty in gaining possession of the beauties and idioms of a language. Her poetical taste appeared early,[4] and at a very tender age she wrote sonnets, criticisms, satires, hymns, and epistles to her friends in verse. Many of her productions were preserved, which she wrote between the ages of eleven and fifteen, that were excellent.[2] The version of a French song, "Quand reverrai-je en un jour", was among the memorials of her fourteenth year, and though much less compact than the original, it was interesting as an illustration of her powers.[3]
Before Canfield left school, she translated from the French a volume of Johann Kaspar Lavater's work for a friend, who had engraved the plates of the work from the original. Soon after this, she translated the "Solitaire," from the French; the "Roman Nights," from Le notti romane al sepolcro degli Scipioni of Alessandro Verri; and the "Vine Dresser," from the French, at a subsequent period. The English of her works is extolled as excellent. In the Roman Nights: Or the Tomb of the Scipios, as it appeared in the English dress, there was much of the flow of Tully, with the delicacy of the best Italian writers. The Italian scholar, Dr. William Taylor, of the Catholic church, considered Canfield's Roman Nights, as the best translation he had ever read of any work from Italian.[2]
Career
Many of the periodicals of the day contained her compositions, both in prose and verse, including the Mirror, the Minerva. There were many of her tales, which purported to be translations, that were known to be originally from her study, never having seen the light before they appeared in English. She changed the signature affixed to her poetical effusions, as well as to her prose works, for concealment, not wishing it to be known that she wrote so much. One of her signatures was "Salonina." By this signature, she addressed to her friend, Dr. Mitchill, a poetical epistle, purporting to be a translation from Le Brun.[2][3]
A "marriage of convenience" was arranged for her[3] with Palmer Canfield, a lottery vender and exchange broker. He was a man of enterprise, but failed soon after their marriage. The union of such an accomplished woman with Mr. Canfield was not hailed as a very suitable one, and so it proved. On the change of his fortunes, she entreated him to come down to his situation, and make safe and sure efforts to rise again. This did not agree with his views, and her advice was disregarded. She was never heard to repine. She made the best of every thing. Among other attempts to retrieve his fortunes, her husband published a paper called "Canfield's Lottery Argus, Commercial and Exchange Telegraph, or National Miscellany." The great object of the paper was to give the public all such matters and things as were necessarily connected with banks and brokerage, and in this area he was adept. To this, he added a literary department, of which his wife took charge. But few readers of miscellaneous literature thought of looking into such a paper for matters of taste and genius, making her efforts almost entirely wasted. Many editors plundered her columns, thinking that they should never be detected. But as editor of this department, she continued to be a helpmate to her husband, while the paper existed, and it was continued for several years.[2]
Personal life
Among other accomplishments, she was an excellent painter. She drew a landscape, a flower, a stream, or a human being, all with equal ease. She sketched with readiness, and finished with taste. Some of her copies of old pictures deceived professional painters. One of her copies was sold at auction for an original, and the mistake was not discovered until mentioned by her father. She was a tolerable musician, and played with some skill, although she had no passion for the art.[2]
Canfield was, from infancy, fond of retirement, and preferred solitude, and a small circle of warm and admiring friends. Nature had given her the power of a satirist, and sometimes she was induced to show that she possessed it; but she preferred to praise the good, rather than to censure the blameable. She wrote some critical notices of reviews, which cut deep, and were felt long. She was not destined to long life; for some time previous to her death, she knew that her health was impaired, and that she would not live long.[2]
At the age of nineteen, she developed tuberculosis, which she struggled with for the next ten years.[3] Canfield died on May 28, 1833.[5][lower-alpha 1] Her father was disconsolate at her loss, and never again resumed his cheerfulness, or his pursuits. He lingered until July, 1833, when he died. She left four infant children.[2] Many of her verses appeared in a commercial gazette established by her husband, but his death in September 1833 prevented the publication of an edition of her works, which he had prepared for that purpose.[3][6]
Notes
- Wilson & Fiske (1887) record Canfield's date of death as May 28, 1823.[6]
References
- Phillips 1871, p. 219.
- Fay 1833, p. 22.
- Griswold 1852, p. 135.
- Wilson & Fiske 1887, p. 519.
- Rey 2017, p. 277.
- Wilson & Fiske 1887, p. 520.
Attribution
Bibliography
- Rey, Terry (2 May 2017). The Priest and the Prophetess: Abbé Ouvière, Romaine Rivière, and the Revolutionary Atlantic World. Oxford University Press. ISBN 978-0-19-062586-3.CS1 maint: ref=harv (link)