at this remote seminary, and of how the scholars had to rough it; of
what would now be styled their hardships, but which did not seriously
effect these light-hearted girls. She alluded to her own life at this
season of her early joys, as smooth and pleasant, and to the valley of
the Falling Spring as a kind of earthly paradise. Her opening years here
and at her home at Sweet Springs, were eminently happy and this sunny
morning betokened the short, but cloudless day that was coming.
Concerning their life at Mr. Crutchfield's generally she said it was not
uncomfortable or unpleasant. His table was liberally supplied with
whatever the country produced, such as beef, mutton, poultry, and now
and again with game and fish furnished by the forests, and the mountain
streams. Of foreign luxuries they saw little or nothing. Their coffee
was generally roasted rye, or a mixture of rye and "Rio," and their
evening drink was milk or Sassafras tea. When they visited distant
friends they rode on horseback, or were crowded into Mr. Crutchfield's
cariole--a kind of covered spring cart.
In their intervals of toilsome labors, and Mr. C. was far from allowing
his pupils to neglect their studies, they passed much of their time
gathering wild flowers in the green fields or on the mountain sides,
visiting from time to time the cottages of the hearty mountaineers,
whose good wives always welcomed them with a glass of sweet milk, some
new laid eggs, or delicious fruit.
It must be remembered that these hours of leisure were not given to
enjoyment only,--hours so favorable to improvement were better employed.
When they returned from the fields, their hands tinted with the rich
purple and crimson of the flowers they had gathered, it was not the
blood stain of murdered time. On the contrary they were only signs of
the eagerness with which they pursued knowledge as well as pleasure, in
some department of natural history, for they were always accompanied in
their outdoor excursions by a teacher. Trees were waving, flowers
blooming, birds singing, and insects revelling around them--the very
pebbles in their pathway contained a history of the past within them;
the stream flowing by them had its finny tribes, most wonderfully
adapted to their element, and these lighter hours were given to an
examination, almost a study, of these objects--animate and inanimate, as
they came from the hands of our Creator. And it may be safely asserted
that few professional botanists were deeper versed at a little later
period in the virtues of various herbs and plants, and how they might be
made subservient to our uses, domestic and medicinal, than was Anne
Lewis.
It was during her sojourn at this school, while spending a holiday with
her sister, Mrs. Massie, at the Valley Farm, that she first met John
Howe Peyton, then in the zenith of his professional success and one of
the handsomest and most accomplished men in Virginia. He had recently
returned from active service with the army of 1812-15, of which he was a
daring and enterprising officer. She was at this time in the flush of
opening womanhood, at the romantic age, and listened with wrapt
attention and delight to his eloquent conversation, his graphic and
animated accounts of the camp and field. She was herself rich in what
has been styled with poetic license the fatal dower of beauty and was as
clever as pretty. The result may be as easily imagined as told--they
were speedily betrothed and shortly after her return to the paternal
roof, though her beauty drew suitors for her hand from far and near,
were married (1821.)
It was a fortunate marriage and brought her all the happiness promised
by a union with the chosen of her heart. Her home was thereafter in
Staunton for a few years and subsequently till her death at Montgomery
Hall. She thus returned to the original location of her great
grandfather the "lord of the hills," to pass her life amidst the scenes
rendered historic by his and his brave companions' long struggle with
their savage enemies and almost within sight of the ruins of that Fort
Lewis, under whose stout walls the colony grew, in time, strong enough
to defy every foe.
Civil life, as we know it, hardly existed in those days in Virginia; all
that was powerful, all that was honored, was connected with war; the
ideas of the time more or less insensibly took a military color; men's
callings and necessity were in one way or the other to fight; and to
fight with effect needed combination, endurance, and practice, and the
rude forts of the frontier were camps or barracks where there was
continual drill and exercise, fixed times, appointed task, hard fare,
incessant watchfulness, an absolute obedience to officers. Armed men,
with sentinels posted to give warning of an enemy's approach, tilled the
fields. Cattle were herded at night around the strong places; patrols
scoured the country day and night, and, in fact, all the precautions
were taken which are necessary to intruders in an enemy's country. Many
a dark tale of massacre has been connected with the settlement of West
Augusta; and the story of the Lewises and other pioneers, forms a
romantic and memorable feature in the history of those turbulent times.
Fort Lewis was the only place of security west of the Blue Ridge and
south of Winchester. It was a fortress of little architectural extent or
pretension, but in its associations one of the most popular and
interesting of our historical places.
In her new home Anne Peyton soon developed more fully the noble
qualities which so much endeared her to a numerous circle of friends and
the intellectual parts by which she was afterwards so widely known.
There was no object of a humane and laudable kind to which she did not
devote her time and attention, but particularly was her active
philanthropy displayed in connexion with the large slave population on
her husband's estates. She made herself intimately acquainted with the
real condition of the negroes on these plantations and set on foot
remedies for the evils necessarily incident to their condition. Her
labors were attended with success, and not only the physical but the
intellectual and moral condition of these unfortunate beings was
improved and advanced.
Happily the prosperity of Virginia was in her day so exuberant, that
there was little poverty of any kind. There are, however, always cases
of want to be found in every community, and these she sought out and
relieved when and where the world was not cognizant. In a word she
offered bread to the famishing and hope to the desperate. Her tender
sympathy extended even to the brute creation. She could not patiently
endure to see dumb creatures suffering from cruelty or want of proper
care, and the very animals instinctively regarded her as their
thoughtful friend.
Anne Montgomery Peyton became the mother of ten children, all of whom
reached years of maturity, and with two exceptions married and have
families of their own, and all now survive but her second daughter, Anne
Montgomery, who died unmarried in 1870, and her son Yelverton. She was,
as we shall see, a most careful mother and affectionate wife, looking up
to her husband as a superior being, and took upon herself the heavy
burden of care in connection with the rearing and education of this
numerous family, to which her husband could give little attention from
the absorbing pursuit of his profession and the overwhelming character
of his engagements.
It was truly in the domestic sphere that she most shone, and her
children owe so much to her teachings and example, to her maternal
tenderness and training, that the recollection of their days at the Hall
is the most precious remembrance they carry with them through life.
Her mind was always active in devising means for the benefit of her
children. Nor would she allow any personal inconvenience of discomfort
to interfere with her plans for carrying them out. She often entered
into their juvenile games and amusements with all the vivacity of her
nature. Nor did it lessen the deference and respect they felt for her.
She knew when to be little and when to be great. When to exercise her
authority, how to enhance her influence, and the value of example in
enforcing both. Thus obedience became so easy that her children soon
combined the pleasure of anticipating her wishes with the duty of
compliance. Of course in every family there are to be found wrong
tempers, feverish ailments, and perverseness of disposition, and willing
obedience cannot be, at all times and on all occasions, obtained however
consistently authority may be maintained. But as far a child however
helpless, ignorant, and inexperienced could be brought into habits of
obedience by a judicious exercise of parental authority, without an
approach to undue severity, it was accomplished by her tact and
discretion.
Some one has called the boy the "father of the man," but the mother is
more especially the parent of the child, forming, directing and
educating its mind and heart. The very pulses of its life throb
responsively with hers, from heart it springs into being and her heart
should be its natural shelter and resting place while life lasts. A
Christian mother she was who made the well-being for her children,
spiritual and physical next to her duty to God and her husband, the
object of her most watchful attention, and whether in the nursery, the
play grounds or school rooms, or the household bestowed upon them the
utmost care, instructing them at one time and romping with them at
another.
In their sports it was, indeed, her habit frequently to join. She
considered play not merely essential to a child's happiness, but to its
physical, moral and spiritual well being. She therefore interested
herself in the amusements of her children with as much zeal and
enjoyment apparently as they themselves--thus at very little expense and
trouble to herself adding greatly to their pleasures. She would now and
again pull the children's wagons around the nursery, make a flag for a
little boat, or dress a doll in the style of our Revolutionary matrons
from a few scraps of silk and calico. She studied the characters of her
different children as they were developed in play and thus gained an
insight into their inner life which guided her as to their future. Some
children are naturally of a robust constitution and their play is
characterized by noise and action; others not so strong are of a more
gentle and studious disposition, pursue the amusements in comparative
quiet. She observed this and regulated her coarse accordingly for she
considered it a sign of ill health, if one of the brood sat silently and
mopingly apart from the group; and at once sought the cause of such an
unnatural state of things and to remove it. In the merest trifles she
exercised a wise judgment and considered nothing trivial which concerned
the happiness of her children. For example, so minute and particular was
she that she never allowed the children to play with one particular set
of toys until they had lost all their interest and were cast aside.
This, she asserted, taught them two bad habits--to wear out a pleasure
threadbare, and reckless destruction. She did not interfere violently to
deprive the children of them, but joining in their play for a moment
would suggest a change. With flushed cheeks and laughing eyes would draw
them into lively romp or game of "puss in the corner;" in order to get
them away from a spot where they had been too long over kites, puzzles,
or dolls dresses.
Few families of children indeed had more care bestowed upon them, and no
one can fail to admire the good sense and tact of a mother who with such
rare skill contributed to the happiness of her little brood. Often did
she with a box of paints, a pencil and some paper employ the children
during a wet afternoon, or in fine weather having a game of hoop or _les
graces_ in the grounds. Considering play one of the first necessities of
a child's existence, she encouraged hers to play with all their
hearts--but never to the neglect of graver studies. These were attended
to in proper season. But when play time came they were free to enjoy
themselves thoroughly, so that their fun did not run into mischief. Thus
her children associated their mother with their pleasant memories of
enjoyment and she never went amongst them that her presence was not
hailed with joy.
With their education strictly so speaking, she was equally particular,
though her duties prevented her from conducting it herself. She saw
however, that the person, Miss Lucy Stone, a native of Massachusetts and
educated in Boston, to whose care they were for some years confided, and
afterwards Miss Forneret, the daughter of a retired officer of the
British army and educated in Paris, was worthy of the charge.
With their school tasks she was herself familiar and saw that their
minds were not overtasked, and now and again cautioned Miss Stone to
suit the lessons to their ages and capacities, saying "strengthen and
instruct, do not tire the mind."
Sometimes she questioned them herself to ascertain whether they
understood their own lessons rather than learnt them by _rote_ without
taking in the meaning of them. Often during hours of recreation, she
spoke of the means of acquiring information and said there were five
eminent methods whereby the mind is improved in the knowledge of things,
namely by observation, reading, instruction by lectures, conversation
and thought or study. What was meant by these terms she fully explained,
and lest she might fatigue and create a distaste for learning by such
serious discourse, would on occasions with much tact glide into lighter
themes, and tell stories teaching valuable lessons, through this medium,
every story having a moral which the young people were left to draw from
the incidents of the narrative. Information was thus conveyed to their
minds without fatiguing them, so that to learn from her was a positive
pleasure. She taught them also to write little stories by making
pleasant suggestions to them. Never shall the writer forget his
admiration for her talents, readiness and efficiency when she would at
their request sometimes condescend to write one herself. It was sure to
be effective and set us thinking. Nor his gratitude for aid, when he
was confronted with the task of answering his first letter. A few days
after its receipt sitting down in the presence of his mother he
commenced a reply. His ideas would not flow in orthodox channels, he
could think of nothing to say that did not have reference to the farm
and stable, and begged his mother to give him some assistance. "No," she
answered, "do your best, I will then examine and correct it, or write
something for you."
After completing his note which was redolent as may be imagined of the
farm and barn yard with its pigs and fowls, he gave it to her. She
laughed heartily at his first effort, but sweetened what he thought her
irony by a little praise. It was not, however, she said, the kind of
letter his aunt would expect or care to read. She then in a few moments,
without taking her pen from the paper, dashed off a letter of sparkling
diction and fascinating humor. Surprised, amazed indeed, at her
readiness and power of description, delighted at what appeared to him
her wonderful success, proud of her as his mother and withal grateful
for her assistance, he threw his arms round about her neck, covering her
with kisses and exclaiming, "Why Mamma, you are indeed a genius--a giant
of the pen. I never will be able to write like that."
His first guide and his earliest critic, he soon learned from her that
affection for literature which has afforded him so much solace in his
chequered life. Availing herself of this occasion the mother impressed
upon the son the advantages of aiming at perfection in everything he
undertook.
The tenor of her remarks may be thus summarized: unless aimed at we
certainly would never attain perfection while frequent attempts would
make it easy. She animadverted upon idleness and indifference, remarking
that in the comparatively unimportant matter of writing a letter as it
was considered, we should give it our greatest care, that it might be as
perfect in all its parts as we could make it. The subject should be
expressed plainly and intelligibly, and in as elegant style as we were
capable of. Before writing a sentence we should examine it, that it
might contain nothing vulgar or inelegant in thought or word; that we
should guard ourselves against attempts at wit, which might wound, or
too much levity and familiarity which was foolish and impertinent. And
seek to express ourselves with manly simplicity, free of affectation.
This was the usual style of Cicero's epistles and rendered them deeply
interesting and improving. No one could reach such excellence, without
purity in the choice of words, justness of construction, joined with
perspicuity of style. That in our letters we should not attempt what is
called fine writing, but have them, like our conversation, unstudied and
easy, natural and simple.
In fact, she said Cicero's were the most valuable collection of letters
extant in any language, written to the greatest men of the age, composed
with purity and elegance, and without the least affectation and without
any view to their publication, which adds greatly to their merit.
She particularly disliked extravagant, what she called "random talking,"
and early warned her children against exaggeration, quoting in this
connection from her favorite work:--
"He that hath knowledge spareth his word, and even a fool when he
holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is
esteemed a man of understanding."
Her children were also earnestly admonished against evil speaking, as
indicating a want of regard to the high and loving authority of God who
has positively forbidden it,--"If any man offend _not_ in word, the same
is a perfect man, and able to bridle the whole body"--such evil
speaking denoted a want of brotherly love and charity, of humility in
our hearts, which would teach us that we are too vile ourselves to
complain of others.
In all her teachings the Bible was the basis of all direct religious
instruction, its facts, doctrines, histories--the law, the Gospel. She
endeavored not only to make it plain to the understanding and to impress
it on the memory, but to bring it to bear on the conscience and the
affections. Her children were taught to reverence the Sabbath-day, to
engage in daily prayer, not only for a blessing on their efforts
generally, but very especially for the "exceeding greatness of that
mighty power," which, whatever means are used, can alone raise us from
the death of sin to the life of righteousness. The Scriptures furnished,
she declared, many examples of the power of prayer. Nothing seemed to be
too great, too hard, or too difficult for prayer to do. Prayer opened
the Red Sea. Prayer brought water from the rock and bread from Heaven.
Prayer made the Sun stand still. Prayer brought fire from the sky on
Elijah's sacrifice. Prayer turned the counsel of Ahithophel into
foolishness. Prayer overthrew the Army of Senhacherib. Prayer has healed
the sick, raised the dead, procured the conversion of souls. Prayer,
pains and faith can do anything. "Let me alone," is the remarkable
saying of God to Moses, when Moses was about to intercede for the
children of Israel.--EXO., CH., XXXII. V. 10.
So long as Abraham asked mercy for Sodom, the Lord went on giving. He
never ceased to give till Abraham ceased to pray.
It was Anne Peyton's belief that there is no condition in life, no
occupation or profession however unfavorable it may appear to the
cultivation of religion, which precludes the possibility, or exempts us
from the obligation, of acquiring those good dispositions and exercising
those Christian virtues which the Gospel requires.
In this manner this model woman sought to teach her children to
persevere in the right direction in spite of all discouragements, but
not to expect harvest in seed time.
She also endeavored betimes to instil in their minds prudence and
practical knowledge, and repeated in this connection the significant
language of a motto which she had been informed, by a traveller, was to
be seen over the doorway of a Chalet in the mountains of
Switzerland:--motto containing a volume of worldly wisdom--
"Speak little, speak truth, spend little, pay cash."
In the household her presence was felt from the kitchen to the attic.
She ordered all the domestic arrangements--neither handing over the
management of her house to the servants, or her children to nurses and
governesses. She superintended in a way to see personally that all was
as it should be. Careful in these matters, she was equally solicitous
that her daughters should understand the proper method of regulating a
household, and how to provide for the want of a family. For this purpose
she instructed them herself how to purchase, or select the different
articles required for home consumption; how to choose the various kinds
of meat, fish and poultry, and then how properly to cook them. They were
also instructed in the art of making tarts, puddings and even
confectionary, many a happy evening has the writer spent with his
sisters and their young school friends at what juveniles called a
"toffee-party." She said this kind of knowledge made them independent of
ignorant servants, and was not detrimental to the dignity of any lady,
mother, or daughter. She always sought to make them adepts in the
science of good house wifery, as being the most useful and honorable
knowledge for those whose destiny it is to become the mothers of
families.
It may not be uninteresting to say a few words at this point as to the
good uses to which she applied the knowledge acquired at Mr.
Crutchfield's school, of the virtues of various herbs and plants. A case
of illness or an accident never occurred in the family, among either
whites or blacks, numbering between 60 and 100 souls, that she was not
early by the bed side of the unfortunate sufferer, and as soon as she
understood the case, prompt to apply some simple, homely remedy; for she
had specifics for all mortal maladies. If accidents occurred she had
balsams, cataplasms, ointments, &c., &c., prepared from flowers and
herbs for external application, and in cases of fevers, or other
diseases, she prescribed her decoctions, draughts, electuaries, &c., and
required these nostrums to be gulped down. From the hoarhound indigenous
to our fields, she prepared a decoction for colds, from the wild cherry
an extract for coughs, from tansey and the bark of the dogwood tree, a
tonic, from camomile, a tea of reputed virtues, from the dandelion, the
buds of the Balm of Gilead cures for dyspepsia, &c. In a word she was
provided against all forms of disease with pills, plasters, powders,
syrups, tinctures, elixirs--a whole catalogue of her own medicinal
preparations. Of course the simple manner in which she extracted the
virtues of these and other plants rendered them less potent and probably
less efficacious than the preparations of the professional chemist, but
they were generally applied or taken with good effect.
The value of her practical knowledge in such matters can hardly be
overestimated, when it is considered how "few and far between" were the
medical men in those days in Virginia; how difficult it was to procure
drugs, or medicines and when they could be obtained, how often they
were impaired in quality by adulterations.
These brief facts illustrative of the efficient and practical character
of this excellent mother, will, the author trusts, tend to direct the
attention of others to the study of nature as a most useful, as well as
inexhaustible source of pure and refined pleasure.
"Not a plant, a leaf, a flower, but contains a folio volume. We may
read, and read and read again and still find something new--something to
please and something to interest, even in the noisome weed."