Part 2

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.

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.