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[Illustration: Eng^d by J.C. Buttre.
MARTHA WASHINGTON.
FROM STUART'S PICTURE]
SIXTEENTH THOUSAND.
NOBLE DEEDS OF AMERICAN WOMEN;
With Biographical Sketches of Some of the More Prominent.
Edited by
J. CLEMENT.,
With an introduction by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney.
Such examples should be set before them as patterns for their daily
imitation.
LOCKE
New Edition Revised.
New York:
Miller, Orton & Co.,
25 PARK ROW.
1857.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by
Geo. H. Derby & Co.,
In the Clerk's Office of the Northern District of New York.
Editor's Preface.
This work was suggested by one of a similar character, entitled "Noble
Deeds of Woman," an English work, which contains but three references to
American Women, two of which are of but very little importance. Only one
article is the same in both works, and that is the letter written by
Mrs. Sigourney to the women of Greece, in 1828, in behalf of the ladies
of Hartford.
This failure to do justice to American women, may have been an
oversight; be that as it may, a work of the kind here presented, seemed
to be needed, and we regret that its preparation had not been assigned
to an abler pen. Multitudes of works have been consulted, and such
anecdotes gleaned as it is thought will have a salutary influence on
the mind and heart. Should the records of female courage and virtue
herein presented to the daughters of the land, encourage, even in the
slightest degree, a laudable spirit of emulation, our humble labors will
not have been put forth in vain.
Facts are more sublime than fictions; and American women have actually
performed all the good, and grand, and glorious deeds which the honest
and judicious novelist dares ascribe to the female sex; hence we have
found no occasion, in striving to make this work interesting, to deviate
from the path of historical truth.
The sources whence our materials have been derived, are largely
indicated in the body of the work. Possibly, however, we may have
failed, in some instances, to indicate our indebtedness to historians
and biographers where such reference was justly demanded; suffice it to
say, therefore, once for all, that, although something like two hundred
of these pages are in our own language, we deserve but little credit for
originality, and would prefer to be regarded as an unpretending
compiler, rather than as an aspirant to the title of author.
J. C.
NOTE TO THE REVISED EDITION.
The fact that eight thousand copies of this work have been
published in less than a year after its appearance, indicates a
degree of popularity which was not anticipated. In this edition we
have thrown out a few pages of the old matter, and substituted, in
most instances, fresher anecdotes; and this revision, with the
illustrations which the liberal-minded publishers have added, will,
it is hoped, render the work still more acceptable.
J. C.
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
INTRODUCTION 13
Mother of Washington 25
Wife of Washington 33
Wife of John Adams 39
Ann H. Judson 52
A Christian Woman in the Hour of Danger 66
Humanity of Hartford Ladies 69
Mother Bailey 73
Elizabeth Heard 76
Ladies of Philadelphia in 1780 78
Wife of President Reed 80
Completion of Bunker Hill Monument 85
Lydia Darrah 89
Widow Storey 93
Mrs. Hendee 95
Patriotic Women of Old Middlesex 97
The Cacique's Noble Daughter 99
Humane Spirit of a Forest Maid 104
Hannah Dustin 108
The Heroines of Bryant's Station 111
Mrs. Daviess 114
A Kentucky Amazon 118
Heroism at Innis Settlement 120
Bold Exploit at Tampico 124
Dicey Langston 125
Rebecca Motte 129
Another Sacrifice for Freedom 132
A Patriotic Donation 133
The Little Black-eyed Rebel 134
The Benevolent Quakeress 136
A Pioneer in Sunday Schools 140
The Women of Wyoming 142
Mary Gould 143
The Mother of President Polk 145
Trials of a Patriot 146
Intrepidity of Mrs. Israel 164
Incident in Missionary Life 166
A Kind-hearted Chippewa 169
Humanity of a Cherokee 170
Self-sacrificing Spirit of the Missionary 171
Daring Exploit of Two Rebels 176
Elizabeth Martin 178
The Mother's Effectual Petition 180
Noteworthy Integrity 182
A Faithful Mother 184
Mrs. Spaulding 186
Wife of Colonel Thomas 188
Exemplary Piety 190
Adventure of a Patriotic Girl 192
Mrs. Caldwell and the Tories 195
Mother of Randolph 198
Cornelia Beekman 199
Mother of West 202
Heroic Endurance 204
Maternal Heroism 211
A Modern Dorcas 213
Sarah Hoffman 218
Heroism of Schoharie Women 221
A Sterling Patriot 223
Heroic Conduct at Monmouth 237
Courage of a Country Girl 239
The Ledyards at Fort Griswold 241
Seneca Heroines 244
Martha Bratton 246
A Poor Woman's Offering 250
Mother of Jackson 251
Heroine of Fort Henry 253
A Benevolent Widow 256
Anne Fitzhugh 258
Esther Gaston 261
Remarkable Presence of Mind 263
Wife of Governor Griswold 265
Bold Exploit of a Young Girl 266
Susanna Wright 268
Patriotism of 1770 270
Mrs. Spalding 272
Mrs. Dillard 275
Phoebe Phillips 277
Example of a Poor Widow 279
Elizabeth Estaugh 284
Kate Moore, 297
Captivity of Mrs. Rowlandson 299
Mrs. Bozarth 303
Heroine of Steel Creek 305
Benevolence of a Colored Woman 308
Rebecca Edwards 309
The Beautiful Rebel 311
Harriet B. Stewart 313
A Kind and Benevolent Woman 316
Noble Example of Pioneers 320
Mrs. Slocumb 323
Wife of Captain Richardson 330
Striking Instance of Patience 331
Susannah Elliott 336
Anna Elliott 338
Patriotic Stratagem 340
Influence of a Faithful Teacher 341
Wife of Thomas Heyward 343
Noble Decision 345
A Tennessee Heroine 346
Mrs. M'Kay 352
Heroic Conduct of a Daughter 354
Heroic Decision 356
Daughter of Aaron Burr 358
Female Intrepidity 361
Wife of Richard Shubrick 362
Retort of Mrs. Ashe 365
Wife of a Drunkard 366
Mother of Dr. Dwight 370
Happy Results of Maternal Fidelity 373
Mrs. Scott 375
Success of Boldness 378
Mary Knight 380
Wife of William Gray 381
Mrs. Huntington 383
Mrs. Biddle 385
Kindness of Convicts 387
Margaret Prior 388
Noble Acts of Kindness 395
Wife of Dr. Ramsay 398
Margaret Schuyler 400
Noble Treatment of Enemies 402
Humanity Rewarded 403
Margaret Winthrop 404
A Pioneer Settler's Adventure 408
Mrs. McKenny 410
The Fisherman's Heroic Wife 416
Mrs. James K. Polk 418
Widow Jenkins 421
Faithful Little Girl 423
Hospitality of California Women 424
Sarah Lanman Smith 425
Brother saved by his Sister 429
Mrs. Borden 431
Margaret Corbin 432
Mrs. Channing 433
Commendable Courage 434
Heroine of Shell's Bush 435
Father Taylor's Widowed Friend 437
Revolutionary Mother 440
Successful Daring 443
Worthy Example of Forgiveness 444
Crookshanks saved by a Female 445
Patriotic Artist 446
Mohawk Women 448
Female in the Revolutionary Army 450
Elizabeth Brant 459
Brief Anecdotes 465
Miss D. L. Dix 474
INTRODUCTION.
The advantages of Biography are obvious and great. To the weight of
precept, it adds the force and efficacy of example. It presents correct
and beautiful models, and awakens the impulse to imitate what we admire.
Other sciences strengthen the intellect, this influences and amends the
heart. Other subjects interest the imagination, this modifies conduct
and character. By the recorded actions of the great and good, we
regulate our own course, and steer, star-guided, over life's trackless
ocean.
In remote ages, the department of Female Biography was almost a void.
Here and there on the pages of the Sacred Volume, a lineament, or a
form, is sketched with graphic power, either as a warning, or bright
with the hues of heaven. Yet uninspired history, though she continued to
utter "her dark sayings upon the harp," was wont to relapse into silence
at the name of woman. Classic antiquity scarcely presents aught that
might be cited as a sustained example. In the annals of ancient Greece,
the wife of one of its philosophers has obtained a place, but only
through the varied trials, by which she contributed to perfect his
patience. Rome but slightly lifts the household veil from the mother of
the Gracchi, as she exultingly exhibits her heart's jewels. Cleopatra,
with her royal barge, casts a dazzling gleam over the Cydnus, but her
fame is like the poison of the reptile that destroyed her. Boadicea
rushes for a moment in her rude chariot over the battle field, but the
fasces and the chains of Rome close the scene.
Modern Paganism disclosed a still deeper abyss of degradation for woman.
The aboriginal lord of the American forests lays the burden on the
shoulder of his weaker companion, and stalks on in unbowed majesty, with
his quiver and his tomahawk. Beneath the sultry skies of Africa, she
crouches to drink the poison water before her judges, having no better
test of her innocence than the deliverer, Death. In India, we see her
plunging into the Ganges her female infants, that they may escape her
lot of misery, or wrapped in the flames of the burning pile, turn into
ashes with the corpse of her husband. Under the sway of the Moslem, her
highest condition is a life-long incarceration, her best treatment, that
of a gilded toy--a soulless slave. Throughout the whole heathen world,
woman may be characterized, as Humanity, in Central Asia has been, by an
elegant French writer, as "always remaining anonymous,--indifferent to
herself,--not believing in her liberty, having none,--and leaving no
trace of her passage upon earth."
Christianity has changed the scene. Wherever her pure and pitying spirit
prevails, the sway of brute force is softened, and the "weaker vessel"
upheld. Bearing in her hand the blessed Gospel, "a light to lighten the
Gentiles, and the glory of the people Israel," she adds to the
literature of the world a new volume, the History of Woman. She spreads
a page, for which the long, slow ages had neither looked, nor
inquired,--neither waited for, nor imagined, the page of female
biography.
So liberal have been our own immediate times in supplying fitting
materials, that an extensive and valuable library might readily be
selected in this department alone. Since knowledge has shed her baptism
upon the head of woman, her legitimate sphere of duty has become
extended, and enriched by incident. We see her not only brought forward
as a teacher, but entering unrebuked the fields of science and
literature; we see her amid the hardships of colonial life, displaying a
martyr's courage, or ascending the deck of the mission ship to take her
part in "perils among the heathen."
The venerable moralist of Barley Wood, who so perseveringly encouraged
her sex to reflect, to discriminate, to choose the good and refuse the
evil, who, after attaining the age of sixty years, presented them with
eleven new and instructive volumes, has not long laid down her pen, for
the rest and reward of the righteous. That high souled apostle of
erring, suffering humanity, to whose dauntless benevolence crowned heads
did honor, whose melodious voice I almost fancy that I again hear, as in
the plain garb of her order, she stood as a tutelary being among the
convicts at Newgate,--she has but recently arisen to that congenial
society of the just made perfect, who rejoice over "one sinner that
repenteth."
And the harp of that tuneful one, so recently exchanged for a purer
harmony, still breathes upon our hearts the echoes of her varied lay, as
when touched by her hand it warbled--
"Fame hath a voice, whose thrilling tone
Can bid the life pulse beat,
As when a trumpet's note hath blown,
Warning the hosts to meet;
But ah! let mine, a woman's breast,
With words of home-born love be bless'd."
She, too, who sleeps beneath the hopia-tree in Burmah, whose courage and
constancy no hero has transcended, how rapidly has she been followed in
the same self denying path, by others who "counted not their lives dear
unto them," if they might bear to the perishing heathen the name and
love of a Redeemer.
And one still lives, the wonderful Scandinavian maiden, whose melody now
holds our own land in enchantment, and who exhibits, on a scale hitherto
unknown in the world's history, rare endowments, boundless liberality,
and deep humility; God's grace held in subservience to the good of her
fellow creatures. Through the power of song, which, as the compeer of
the nightingale, she possesses, and with a singular freedom from vanity
and selfishness, she charms and elevates, while with the harvest of her
toils she feeds the hungry, clothes the naked, comforts the desolate,
aids the hallowed temple to uplift its spire, and the school to spread
its brooding wing over the children of future generations.
One there lives, who doth inherit
Angel gifts with angel spirit,
Bidding streams of gladness flow
Through the realms of want and woe,
'Mid lone age and misery's lot,
Kindling pleasures long forgot,
Seeking minds oppress'd with night,
And on darkness shedding light;
She the seraph's speech doth know,
She hath learn'd their deeds below
So, when o'er this misty strand,
She shall clasp their waiting hand,
They will fold her to their breast,
More a sister than a guest.
If all true greatness should be estimated by its tendencies, and by the
good it performs, it is peculiarly desirable that woman's claims to
distinction should be thus judged and awarded. In this young western
world, especially in New England, her agency has been admitted, and her
capacity tested, of mingling a healthful leaven with the elements of a
nation's character. Here, her presence has been acknowledged, and her
aid faithfully rendered, from the beginning. There is a beautiful
tradition, that the first foot which pressed the snow clad rock of
Plymouth was that of Mary Chilton, a fair young maiden, and that the
last survivor of those heroic pioneers was Mary Allerton, who lived to
see the planting of twelve out of the thirteen colonies, which formed
the nucleus of these United States.
In the May Flower, eighteen wives accompanied their husbands to a waste
land and uninhabited, save by the wily and vengeful savage. On the
unfloored hut, she who had been nurtured amid the rich carpets and
curtains of the mother land, rocked her new born babe, and complained
not. She, who in the home of her youth had arranged the gorgeous shades
of embroidery, or, perchance, had compounded the rich venison pasty as
her share in the housekeeping, now pounded the coarse Indian corn for
her children's bread, and bade them ask God's blessing, ere they took
their scanty portion. When the snows sifted through their miserable
roof-trees upon her little ones, she gathered them closer to her bosom;
she taught them the Bible, and the catechism, and the holy hymn, though
the war-whoop of the Indian rang through the wild. Amid the untold
hardships of colonial life, she infused new strength into her husband by
her firmness, and solaced his weary hours by her love. She was to him,
"An undergoing spirit, to bear up
Against whate'er ensued."
During the struggle of our Revolution, the privations sustained, and the
efforts made by women, were neither few nor of short duration. Many of
them are delineated in the present volume, and in other interesting ones
of the same class, which have found favor with the public.
Yet innumerable instances of faithful toil, and patient endurance, must
have been covered with oblivion. In how many a lone home, whence the
father was long sundered by a soldier's destiny, did the Mother labor to
perform to their little ones both his duties and her own, having no
witness of the extent of her heavy burdens, and sleepless anxieties,
save the Hearer of Prayer.
A good and hoary headed man, who had passed the limits of fourscore,
once said to me, "my father was in the army during the whole eight years
of the Revolutionary war, at first as a common soldier, afterwards as an
officer. My mother had the sole charge of us, four little ones. Our
house was a poor one, and far from neighbors. I have a keen remembrance
of the terrible cold of some of these winters. The snow lay so deep and
long, that it was difficult to cut or draw fuel from the woods, and to
get our corn to mill, when we had any. My mother was the possessor of a
coffee mill. In that she ground wheat, and made coarse bread, which we
ate, and were thankful. It was not always that we could be allowed as
much, even of this, as our keen appetites craved. Many is the time that
we have gone to bed, with only a drink of water for our supper, in
which a little molasses had been mingled. We patiently received it, for
we knew our mother did as well for us as she could, and hoped to have
something better in the morning. She was never heard to repine; and
young as we were, we tried to make her loving spirit and heavenly trust,
our example.
"When my father was permitted to come home, his stay was short, and he
had not much to leave us, for the pay of those who achieved our
liberties was slight, and irregularly rendered. Yet when he went, my
mother ever bade him farewell with a cheerful face, and not to be
anxious about his children, for she would watch over them night and day,
and God would take care of the families of those who went forth to
defend the righteous cause of their country. Sometimes we wondered that
she did not mention the cold weather, or our short meals, or her hard
work, that we little ones might be clothed, and fed, and taught. But she
would not weaken his hands, or sadden his heart, for she said a
soldier's lot was harder than all. We saw that she never complained, but
always kept in her heart a sweet hope, like a well of living water.
Every night ere we slept, and every morning when we arose, we lifted our
little hands for God's blessing on our absent father, and our endangered
country."
How deeply the prayers from such solitary homes, and faithful hearts,
were mingled with the infant liberties of our dear native land, we may
not know until we enter where we see no more "through a glass darkly,
but face to face."
Incidents repeatedly occurred during this contest of eight years,
between the feeble colonies and the strong motherland, of a courage
that ancient Sparta would have applauded.
In a thinly settled part of Virginia, the quiet of the Sabbath eve was
once broken by the loud, hurried roll of the drum. Volunteers were
invoked to go forth and prevent the British troops, under the pitiless
Tarleton, from forcing their way through an important mountain pass. In
an old fort resided a family, all of whose elder sons were absent with
our army, which at the North opposed the foe. The father lay enfeebled
and sick. Around his bedside the Mother called their three sons, of the
ages of thirteen, fifteen, and seventeen.
"Go forth, children," said she, "to the defence of your native clime.
Go, each and all of you. I spare not my youngest, my fair-haired boy,
the light of my declining years.
"Go forth, my sons. Repel the foot of the invader, or see my face no
more."
It has been recorded in the annals of other climes, as well as our own,
that Woman, under the pressure of unusual circumstances, has revealed
unwonted and unexpected energies. It is fitting that she should prove
herself equal to every emergency, nor shrink from any duty that dangers
or reverses may impose.
Still, her best happiness and true glory are doubtless found in her own
peculiar sphere. Rescued, as she has been, from long darkness, by the
precepts of the religion of Jesus, brought forth into the broad sunlight
of knowledge and responsibility, she is naturally anxious to know how to
discharge her debt to the age, and to her own land. Her patriotism is,
to labor in the sanctuary of home, and in every allotted department of
education, to form and train a race that shall bless their country, and
serve their God.
There has been sometimes claimed for her, under the name of "_rights_,"
a wider participation in the pursuits, exposures, and honors
appertaining to men. Were these somewhat indefinite claims conceded,
would the change promote her welfare? Would she be a gainer by any added
power or sounding title, which should require the sacrifice of that
delicacy which is the life-blood of her sex?
Would it be better for man to have no exercise for those energies, which
the state of a gentle, trustful being calls forth; those protecting
energies which reveal his peculiar strength, and liken him to a god-like
nature? Would it add either to her attractions or his happiness, to
confront her in the arena of political strife, or enable her to bear her
part in fierce collision with the bold and unprincipled? Might it not
endanger or obliterate that enthusiasm of love, which she so much
prizes, to meet the tutelary spirit of his home delights, on the steep
unsheltered heights of ambition, as a competitor or a rival?
Would it be as well for the rising generation, who are given into the
arms of Woman for their earliest guidance, that the ardor of her nature
should be drawn into different and contradictory channels? When a
traveler in those lands where she goes forth to manual toil in the
fields, I have mourned to see her neglected little ones, deprived of
maternal care, unsoftened by the blandishments of its tenderness,
growing up like animals, groveling, unimpressible, unconscientious.
Whatever detaches her thoughts or divides her heart from home duties and
affections, is especially a loss to the young plants that depend on her
nurture and supervision.
If, therefore, the proposed change should profit neither man, woman, nor
the rising race, how can it benefit the world at large? Is it not the
province of true wisdom to select such measures as promote the greatest
good of the greatest number?
A moralist has well said, that "in contentions for power, both the
philosophy and poetry of life are dropped and trodden down." A still
heavier loss would accrue to domestic happiness, and the interests of
well balanced society, should the innate delicacy and prerogative of
woman, _as woman_, be sacrificed or transmuted.
"I have given her as a help-meet," said the Voice that cannot err, when
it spake unto Adam "in the cool of the day," amid the trees of Paradise.
Not as a slave, a clog, a toy, a wrestler, a prize-fighter, a ruler. No.
A _helper_, such as was meet for man to desire, and for her to become.
If the unerring Creator has assigned different spheres of action to the
sexes, it is to be presumed that some adaptation exists to their
respective sphere, that there is work enough in each to employ them, and
that the faithful performance of that work will be for the welfare of
both. If He hath constituted one as the priestess of the "inner temple,"
committing to her charge its veiled shrine and sacred harmonies, why
should she covet to rage amid the warfare at its gates, or to ride on
the whirlwind that may rock its turrets? Rushing, uncalled, to the
strife, or the tumult, or the conflict, will there not linger in her
heart the upbraiding question, "with whom didst thou leave thy few sheep
in the wilderness?" Why need she be again tempted by pride, or
curiosity, or glozing words, to forfeit her own Eden?
The true nobility of Woman is to keep her own sphere, and adorn it, not
as the comet, daunting and perplexing other systems, but like the star,
which is the first to light the day and the last to leave it. If she win
not the laurel of the conqueror and the blood-shedder, her noble deeds
may leave "footprints on the sands of time," and her good works, "such
as become those that profess godliness," find record in the Book of
Life.
Sisters, are not our rights sufficiently comprehensive, the sanctuary of
home, the throne of the heart, the moulding of the whole mass of mind,
in its first formation? Have we not power enough in all realms of sorrow
and suffering, over all forms of want and ignorance, amid all ministries
of love, from the cradle-dream to the sealing of the sepulchre?
Let us be content and faithful, aye, more,--grateful and joyful,--making
this brief life a hymn of praise, until admitted to that choir which
knows no discord, and where melody is eternal.
L. HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY.
HARTFORD, CONN.
[Illustration: Woman with plaque "Noble Deeds"]
THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON
As the "mother" of our nation's "chief," it seems appropriate that Mary
Washington should stand at the head of American females whose deeds are
herein recorded. Her life was one unbroken series of praiseworthy
actions--a drama of many scenes, none blood-chilling, none tragic, but
all noble, all inspiring, and many even magnanimous. She was uniformly
so gentle, so amiable, so dignified, that it is difficult to fix the eye
on any one act more strikingly grand than the rest. Stretching the eye
along a series of mountain peaks, all, seemingly, of the same height, a
solitary one cannot be singled out and called more sublime than the
others.
It is impossible to contemplate any one trait of her character without
admiration. In republican simplicity, as her life will show, she was a
model; and her piety was of such an exalted nature that the daughters of
the land might make it their study. Though proud of her son, as we may
suppose she must have been, she was sensible enough not to be betrayed
into weakness and folly on that account. The honors that clustered
around her name as associated with his, only humbled her and made her
apparently more devout. She never forgot that she was a Christian
mother, and that her son, herself, and, in perilous times especially,
her country, needed her prayers. She was wholly destitute of
aristocratic feelings, which are degrading to human beings; and never
believed that sounding titles and high honors could confer lasting
distinctions, without moral worth. The greatness which Byron, with so
much justness and beauty, ascribes to Washington, was one portion of the
inestimable riches which the son inherited from the mother:
"Where may the weary eye repose,
When gazing on the great,
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Nor despicable state?
Yes, one--the first--the last--the best--
The Cincinnatus of the West,
Whom envy dared not hate--
Bequeathed the name of Washington,
To make men blush there was but one."
Moulding, as she did, to a large extent, the character of the great
Hero, Statesman and Sage of the Western World; instilling into his young
heart the virtues that warmed her own, and fitting him to become the man
of unbending integrity and heroic courage, and the father of a great and
expanding republic, she may well claim the veneration, not of the lovers
of freedom merely, but of all who can appreciate moral beauty and
thereby estimate the true wealth of woman's heart. A few data and
incidents of such a person's life should be treasured in every American
mind.
The maiden name of Mrs. Washington was Mary Bell. She was born in the
Colony of Virginia, which is fertile in great names, towards the close
of the year 1706. She became the second wife of Mr. Augustine
Washington, a planter of the "Old Dominion," on the sixth of March,
1730. He was at that time a resident of Westmoreland county. There, two
years after this union, George, their oldest child, was born. While the
"father of his country" was an infant, the parents removed to Stafford
county, on the Rappahannock river, opposite Fredericksburg.
Mrs. Washington had five more children, and lost the youngest in its
infancy. Soon after this affliction, she was visited, in 1743, with a
greater--the death of her husband. Thus, at the age of thirty-seven,
Mrs. Washington became a widow, with five small children. Fortunately,
her husband left a valuable property for their maintenance. It was
mostly in land, and each son inherited a plantation. The one daughter
was also suitably provided for. "It was thus," writes Mr. Sparks, "that
Augustine Washington, although suddenly cut off in the vigor of manhood,
left all his children in a state of comparative independence. Confiding
in the prudence of the mother, he directed that the proceeds of all the
property of her children should be at her disposal, till they should
respectively come of age."
The same writer adds that, "this weighty charge of five young children,
the eldest of whom was eleven years old, the superintendence of their
education, and the management of complicated affairs, demanded no common
share of resolution, resource of mind, and strength of character. In
these important duties Mrs. Washington acquitted herself with fidelity
to her trust, and with entire success. Her good sense, assiduity,
tenderness and vigilance, overcame every obstacle; and, as the richest
reward of a mother's solicitude and toil, she had the happiness of
seeing all her children come forward with a fair promise into life,
filling the sphere allotted to them in a manner equally honorable to
themselves, and to the parent who had been the only guide of their
principles, conduct and habits. She lived to witness the noble career of
her eldest son, till, by his own rare merits, he was raised to the head
of a nation, and applauded and revered by the whole world."
Two years after the death of his father, George Washington obtained a
midshipman's warrant, and had not his mother opposed the plan, he would
have entered the naval service, been removed from her influence, acted
a different part on the theatre of life, and possibly changed the
subsequent aspect of American affairs.
Just before Washington's departure to the north, to assume the command
of the American army, he persuaded his mother to leave her country
residence, and assisted in effecting her removal to Fredericksburg.
There she took up a permanent abode, and there died of a lingering and
painful disease, a cancer in the breast, on the twenty-fifth of August,
1789.
A few of the many lovely traits of Mrs. Washington's character, are
happily exhibited in two or three incidents in her long, but not
remarkably eventful life.
She who looked to God in hours of darkness for light, in her country's
peril, for Divine succor, was equally as ready to acknowledge the hand
and to see the smiles of the "God of battles" in the victories that
crowned our arms; hence, when she was informed of the surrender of
Cornwallis, her heart instantly filled with gratitude, and raising her
hands, with reverence and pious fervor, she exclaimed: "Thank God! war
will now be ended, and peace, independence and happiness bless our
country!"
When she received the news of her son's successful passage of the
Delaware--December 7th, 1776--with much self-possession she expressed
her joy that the prospects of the country were brightening; but when she
came to those portions of the dispatches which were panegyrical of her
son, she modestly and coolly observed to the bearers of the good
tidings, that "George appeared to have deserved well of his country for
such signal services. But, my good sirs," she added, "here is too much
flattery!--Still, _George will not forget the lessons I have taught
him_--he will not forget _himself_, though he is the subject of so much
praise."
In like manner, when, on the return of the combined armies from
Yorktown, Washington visited her at Fredericksburg, she inquired after
his health and talked long and with much warmth of feeling of the scenes
of former years, of early and mutual friends, of all, in short, that the
past hallows; but to the theme of the ransomed millions of the land, the
theme that for three quarters of a century has, in all lands, prompted
the highest flights of eloquence, and awakened the noblest strains of
song, to the deathless fame of her son, she made not the slightest
allusion.
In the fall of 1784, just before returning to his native land, General
Lafayette went to Fredericksburg, "to pay his parting respects" to Mrs.
Washington. "Conducted by one of her grandsons, he approached the house,
when the young gentleman observed: 'There, sir, is my grandmother!'
Lafayette beheld--working in the garden, clad in domestic-made clothes,
and her gray head covered with a plain straw hat--the mother of 'his
hero, his friend and a country's preserver!' The lady saluted him
kindly, observing: 'Ah, Marquis! you see an old woman; but come, I can
make you welcome to my poor dwelling without the parade of changing my
dress.'" During the interview, Lafayette, referring to her son, could
not withhold his encomiums, which drew from the mother this beautifully
simple remark: "I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was
always a good boy."
The remains of Mrs. Washington were interred at Fredericksburg. On the
seventh of May, 1833, the corner-stone of a monument to her memory was
laid under the direction of a Committee who represented the citizens of
Virginia. General Jackson, then President of the United States, very
appropriately took the leading and most honorable part in the ceremony.
With the following extracts from the closing part of his chaste and
elegant Address, our humble sketch may fittingly close:
"In tracing the few recollections which can be gathered, of her
principles and conduct, it is impossible to avoid the conviction, that
these were closely interwoven with the destiny of her son. The great
points of his character are before the world. He who runs may read them
in his whole career, as a citizen, a soldier, a magistrate. He possessed
unerring judgment, if that term can be applied to human nature; great
probity of purpose, high moral principles, perfect self-possession,
untiring application, and an inquiring mind, seeking information from
every quarter, and arriving at its conclusions with a full knowledge of
the subject; and he added to these an inflexibility of resolution, which
nothing could change but a conviction of error. Look back at the life
and conduct of his mother, and at her domestic government, as they have
this day been delineated by the Chairman of the Monumental Committee,
and as they were known to her contemporaries, and have been described
by them, and they will be found admirably adapted to form and develop,
the elements of such a character. The power of greatness was there; but
had it not been guided and directed by maternal solicitude and judgment,
its possessor, instead of presenting to the world examples of virtue,
patriotism and wisdom, which will be precious in all succeeding ages,
might have added to the number of those master-spirits, whose fame rests
upon the faculties they have abused, and the injuries they have
committed....
"Fellow citizens, at your request, and in your name, I now deposit this
plate in the spot destined for it; and when the American pilgrim shall,
in after ages, come up to this high and holy place, and lay his hand
upon this sacred column, may he recall the virtues of her who sleeps
beneath, and depart with his affections purified, and his piety
strengthened, while he invokes blessings upon the Mother of
Washington."
THE WIFE OF WASHINGTON.
A woman's noblest station is retreat:
Her fairest virtues fly from public sight;
Domestic worth--that shuns too strong a light.
LORD LYTTLETON.
The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.
BYRON.
Woman may possess an equal share of the elements of greatness with man,
but she has not an equal opportunity to display them in such a manner as
to call forth the admiration and applause of the world. She was not made
to pour the tide of eloquence in the Senate chamber, or lead on to
victory the brave and heroic spirits of the land. Her course leads
mainly through the quiet valley of domestic retirement, where the stream
can rarely leap from dizzy heights with a thundering plunge, whose
echoes shall go booming on to fill the ear of coming generations: her
movements and influence are more like those of springs, which, flowing
noiselessly and unseen, are widely scattered, and every where diffuse
incalculable blessings.
The wife of Washington could not be the hero of a seven-years' war, or
the chief magistrate of a republic; but, as the companion of such a man,
she could shine, in her own proper sphere, with a lustre as mild, as
steady, as serene, as his. And thus she did. Prompt to obey the calls of
duty, when the voice of humanity beckoned her to the camp, she hastened
away, at the sacrifice of ease and comfort, to relieve the wants of the
suffering; and when forced to leave her "paradise" at Mount Vernon, to
preside, as the matron of the nation, at the President's house, she did
it with a dignity and propriety perhaps never equalled, certainly never
excelled. But let us not anticipate.
Martha Dandridge was born in New Kent county, Virginia, in May, 1732.
She was endowed with good sense, a strong mind, sound ideas of feminine
proprieties, and correct views of woman's practical duties: and these
had to answer measurably as a substitute for the discipline of female
seminaries, which were rare in the "Old Dominion," and in the Colonies
generally, in her younger days. The advantages to be derived from
domestic instruction, she enjoyed, and those only. They, however, were
cut off at the age of seventeen, by her union in marriage with Colonel
Daniel P. Custis, a gentleman of many excellent parts. They settled on
his plantation in her native county. Beautiful, lovely in disposition,
and fascinating in manners, the young wife was warmly admired by her
neighbors and all with whom she came in contact; and her residence,
known as the "_White House_," was the centre of strong attractions, and
the scene of much genuine or--which is the same thing--_Virginian_,
hospitality. Colonel Custis became the father of three children, and
then died. Previous to this solemn event, however, the White House had
been veiled in weeds for the loss of his oldest child.
With two small children, a son and daughter, Mrs. Custis early found
herself a widow, with the disposition and management of all pecuniary
interests left by her confiding husband, at her control. As sole
executrix, it is said that she "managed the extensive landed and
pecuniary concerns of the estate with surprising ability, making loans
on mortgages, of money, and through her stewards and agents, conducting
the sales or exportation of the crops to the best possible advantage."
But from the cares of an extensive estate she was shortly relieved. On
the sixth of January, 1759, she gave her hand, with upwards of a hundred
thousand dollars, to Colonel George Washington, another planter of her
native Colony. At the same time, she relinquished into his hands the
guardianship of her children--the son six, and the daughter four years
old--together with the care of their property. From the White House,
Mrs. Washington now removed to Mount Vernon, which remained her home
till her death, and became the final resting place of her remains.
In her new home, as in the White House, she superintended the affairs of
the household, exercising continual control over all culinary matters;
carefully educating her offspring, and aiming to rear them up for
usefulness. These duties she discharged with the utmost assiduity and
faithfulness, in spite of the many social obligations which a woman in
her position must necessarily encounter.[1] Nor did the demands of
courtesy and of her family debar her from habitual and systematic
charities, dispensed in her neighborhood, or from those most important
of all daily duties, the calls of the "closet." In the language of Miss
Conkling, in her Memoir: "It is recorded of this devout Christian, that
never during her life, whether in prosperity or in adversity, did she
omit that daily self-communion and self-examination, and those private
devotional exercises, which would best prepare her for the self-control
and self-denial by which she was, for more than half a century, so
eminently distinguished. It was her habit to retire to her own apartment
every morning after breakfast, there to devote an hour to solitary
prayer and meditation."
[1] We have the authority of Mr. Sparks for asserting that while
Washington's pursuits were those of a retired planter, he seldom passed
a day when at home without the company of friends or strangers,
frequently persons of great celebrity, and demanding much attention from
the lady of the house.
In 1770, she lost a child of many prayers, of bright hopes, and of much
promise, her blooming daughter. She looked upon this affliction as a
visitation from Him who doeth all things well, and bore it with becoming
resignation, which the Christian only is prepared to do.
During the Revolution, Mrs. Washington was accustomed to pass the
winters with her husband at the head quarters of the army and the
summers at Mount Vernon; and it was in the camp that she shone with the
lustre of the true woman. "She was at Valley Forge in that dreadful
winter of 1777-8, her presence and submission to privation strengthening
the fortitude of those who might have complained, and giving hope and
confidence to the desponding. She soothed the distresses of many
sufferers, seeking out the poor and afflicted with benevolent kindness,
extending relief wherever it was in her power, and with graceful
deportment presiding in the Chief's humble dwelling."[2]
[2] Mrs. Washington, in writing to Mrs. Warren, says, "The General's
apartment is very small; he has had a log cabin built to dine in, which
has made our quarters more tolerable than at first."
In 1781, she lost her last surviving child, John Custis, aged twenty
seven. Her widowed daughter-in-law and the four children, she took to
her own home, and thenceforward they were the objects of her untiring
solicitude.
The life of Mrs. Washington, after her husband took the Presidential
chair, was marked by no striking incidents, and affords scanty material
of the nature marked out for this work. During the eight years that he
was Chief Magistrate, she presided in his mansion with the same
unaffected ease, equanimity and dignified simplicity that had marked her
previous course in more retired circles. Visitors were received on all
days _except the Sabbath_, and, irrespective of rank, shared in her
courtesies and hospitalities. A portion of each summer, at that period,
was passed in the quiet and seclusion of Mount Vernon, she rarely, if
ever, accompanying her husband on his tours through the land. She
expressed regret when he was chosen President, because she preferred
"to grow old" with him "in solitude and tranquillity;" hence it is not
surprising that she found a luxury in retiring for a season from the
scenes of public life, and in attending to the education of her
grand-children and to other self-imposed tasks and important duties, in
the performance of which she could bless her friends and honor God.
After the death of her illustrious companion, which occurred in
December, 1799, she remained at Mount Vernon; where she spent seventeen
months mourning her loss; receiving the visits of the great from all
parts of our land, and from various parts of the earth; attending, as
heretofore, to her domestic concerns; perfecting in the Christian
graces, and ripening for the joys of a holier state of being. On the
twenty-second of May, 1801, she who, while on earth, could be placed in
no station which she did not dignify and honor, was welcomed to the
glories of another world.
THE WIFE OF JOHN ADAMS.
The mother in her office holds the key
Of the soul; and she it is who stamps the coin
Of character, and makes the being who would be a savage,
But for her gentle cares, a Christian man.
OLD PLAY.
----O we will walk this world,
Yoked in all exercise of noble aim.
TENNYSON.
Abigail Smith was a daughter of the Rev. William Smith, a Congregational
minister of Weymouth, Massachusetts, where she was born on the eleventh
of November, 1744, O. S. "It was fashionable to ridicule female
learning," in her day; and she says of herself in one of her letters, "I
was never sent to any school." She adds, "I was always sick. Female
education, in the best families, went no further than writing and
arithmetic." But notwithstanding her educational disadvantages, she read
and studied in private, and kept up a brisk correspondence with
relatives, and by these means expanded and fed her mind, and cultivated
an easy and graceful style of writing.
On the twenty-fifth of October, 1764, Miss Smith became the wife of John
Adams, a lawyer of Braintree.[3]
[3] The part of the town in which he lived was afterwards called Quincy
in honor of Mrs. Adams's maternal grandfather.
Her grandson, Charles Francis Adams, to whose Memoir of her we are
indebted for these statistics, says, that "the ten years immediately
following, present little that is worth recording."
Prior to 1778, Mr. and Mrs. Adams had been separated at sundry times, in
all, more than three years, which was a severe trial to her fortitude.
The strength of her conjugal affection may be gathered from an extract
from one of her letters: "I very well remember," she writes, "when the
eastern circuits of the courts, which lasted a month, were thought an
age, and an absence of three months, intolerable; but we are carried
from step to step, and from one degree to another, to endure that which
at first we think impossible." Thus she was schooled for separation from
her husband, when, in 1778, he went to France as a joint commissioner.
While he was absent from his country on that occasion, faithful to the
calls of duty, she remained at home, and managed, as she had done
before, the affairs of the household and farm. And _there_ let the
reader look at her and see a picture of a true mother of the Revolution.
"She is a farmer cultivating the land, and discussing the weather and
crops; a merchant reporting prices-current and the rates of exchange,
and directing the making up of invoices; a politician, speculating upon
the probabilities of peace or war; and a mother, writing the most
exalted sentiments to her son."
What nobler deed could the mother, thus situated, do with her son, John
Quincy Adams, in a foreign land, than to write to him in a tone like
that of the extracts which follow, and which are taken from letters
dated 1778-80:
"'Tis almost four months since you left your native land, and embarked
upon the mighty waters, in quest of a foreign country. Although I have
not particularly written to you since, yet you may be assured you have
constantly been upon my heart and mind.
"It is a very difficult task, my dear son, for a tender parent to bring
her mind to part with a child of your years going to a distant land; nor
could I have acquiesced in such a separation under any other care than
that of the most excellent parent and guardian who accompanied you. You
have arrived at years capable of improving under the advantages you will
be likely to have, if you do but properly attend to them. They are
talents put into your hands, of which an account will be required of you
hereafter; and being possessed of one, two, or four, see to it that you
double your numbers.
"The most amiable and most useful disposition in a young mind is
diffidence of itself; and this should lead you to seek advice and
instruction from him, who is your natural guardian, and will always
counsel and direct you in the best manner, both for your present and
future happiness. You are in possession of a natural good understanding,
and of spirits unbroken by adversity and untamed with care. Improve your
understanding by acquiring useful knowledge and virtue, such as will
render you an ornament to society, an honor to your country, and a
blessing to your parents. Great learning and superior abilities, should
you ever possess them, will be of little value and small estimation,
unless virtue, honor, truth, and integrity are added to them. Adhere to
those religious sentiments and principles which were early instilled
into your mind, and remember that you are accountable to your Maker for
all your words and actions.