CHAPTER IX

THE YOUNG REPUBLIC

The final establishment of republican rule in America found the country exhausted of present resources, but full of latent energy and with untold treasures of internal wealth lying ready to its hand when that hand should become sufficiently strong to grasp them. In a social aspect, there was of course little outward change to be noted between the years immediately preceding the actual warfare and those immediately subsequent thereto; but by the cessation of that war and the consequent growth of new national ideas and ideals there were imported new conditions of society that were to find rapid growth--and as rapid decay.

The primary ideal of American republicanism was simplicity. There was talk of this on all sides, and it affected all the prevailing customs of social life. It is true that there were many dissenters, by life if not by theory, from the popular creed; but these dared not open their mouths in scorn, even if they felt impelled so to do. In the eyes of the founders of our nation, republicanism and simplicity were almost interchangeable terms; ornateness of custom, as of dress, was by theory for royal courts and castles, not for the homes or social circles of the sons and daughters of a republic. The practice of our ancestors did not always, even in those first days of enthusiasm, comport with the theory which they promulgated as the rule of social life, but consistency is not an invariable attribute of humanity.

As a matter of fact, simplicity did predominate; it was even the fashion, and that made it almost universal. More than ever were the days of the early republic the era of the housewife; the distaff was considered, even by most of the ladies themselves, to be the rightful sceptre of womanhood, with no Salic Law to cast it into contempt. The requirements for a housewife of those industrious days were many, and may be judged from an advertisement which appeared in the _Pennsylvania Packet_ under date of September 23, 1780:

"Wanted at a Seat about half a day's journey from Philadelphia, on which are good improvements and domestics, A single Woman of unsullied Reputation, an affable, cheerful, active, and amiable Disposition; cleanly, industrious, perfectly qualified to direct and manage the female Concerns of country business, as raising small stock, dairying, marketing, combing, carding, spinning, knitting, sewing, pickling, preserving, etc., and occasionally to instruct two young Ladies in those Branches of Economy, who, with their father, compose the Family. Such a person will be treated with respect and esteem, and meet with every encouragement due to such a character."

Such a person would hardly need "encouragement," one would think, as being a paragon of knowledge and capacity, and one can only wonder that "geometry and the use of the globes" were omitted from the list of her accomplishments as needful. The advertisement is, however, typical of the knowledge which our great-grandmothers looked upon as indispensable to the notable housekeeper of that day, though it might well appall the most skilful of our housewives of the present.

Because of the predominance of the theory of simplicity in republican circles, there was need of a limited reconstruction of social conditions. The period cannot be said to have been formative, either in aspect or effect, for it showed merely the elevation of certain widely-held ideals over others which had been no less stubbornly maintained; yet that a new social system was founded in those days cannot be successfully denied. The American woman realized that she was standing upon the threshold of an illimitable future, and she also recognized the responsibilities of her position. As she directed her first steps under the new order of things, so would her children and her children's children walk; or so at least she believed and hoped. Therefore it behooved her to take good heed to those first steps, lest they lead to a goal which was not worthy.

It is this new sense of responsibility, added to the sense of dignity which was always strong with the representative colonial woman of the later days, that we see, if we look deep enough, when we turn our gaze upon the young days of the republic in its social aspects and inquire their meaning. That simplicity of manners and customs was the fashion, and as a fashion was frequently carried to absurd lengths, is undoubtedly true; but underneath the fashion lay a creed, and the creed was of high nature. It was with a grave face, but with a brave heart, that the American woman looked forward to the future of the country for which she had suffered so much and therefore loved so well. To her husband in that day and her sons and grandsons in the future were committed the graver issues of the things which were to guide the land in its coming path; but she too, in her different yet contiguous sphere, had laid upon her a burden of trust, and she would be faithful thereto.

So American womanhood, classing it as a universal entity, was confronted at its first unaided and ungoverned steps by many problems, difficult of solution and of pressing nature. Added to the sense of responsibility, too, was the power of recoil--a power which has been more effectual, both for good and evil, than any other that has ever influenced man. The hold of Old World custom upon the American woman had suddenly been loosed, and it is no cause for wonder if she rebounded to the opposite extreme. She must be freed in every way from European dominance; she must prove herself an American indeed, utterly unruled by European fashion as by English monarch. Only so would she be worthy of her newly gained emancipation. Such, though unexpressed and even perhaps unrecognized by herself, was her theory.

There was another powerfully operative cause in the changes that took place in American society in the period subsequent to the close of the war for independence. There came about for the first time a certain centralization, until then unknown in the colonies. Up to that time there had been several centres of social dominance, each ruling its own territory. Boston--though in lesser strength--New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Williamsburg, Charleston, and other cities which had grown from town-infancy to the higher estate, had been maelstroms of the society for their sections; but the foundation of Washington, though at first its influence was hardly felt, was increasingly influential in forming new conditions. Though the national capital was not founded in the days which we are at the moment considering, in a way its predecessors were equally potent for centralization, and it is most convenient to speak of the whole process as of one place. When the first president of the republic took up his abode in a recognized capital, there was imported into the republican society the very thing which was most antagonistic to all its proclaimed principles--the atmosphere of a court. It was no matter that the court was not that of a potentate; though not a royal, it was a social court, which took its place as the head of all social functions and aspects. It availed nothing that such a stern republican as Jefferson reprobated all ceremony and insisted upon the extremes of democratic simplicity; the spirit of the court was infused into the social elements of America, and its influence was enormous, even though to this day that influence has been unacknowledged. Enough of theory, let us look at resultant facts. For the first time one woman filled the eyes of the nation as preeminently the first lady of the land. That this position was so worthily filled was most fortunate for the future of American society, though even that circumstance did not avail to ward off certain evils that followed in the train of centralization. But none of these evils can be laid at the door of Martha Washington, whom all America rightfully delighted to honor. The widow of Colonel Custis won lasting fame when she gave her hand to George Washington, then but a colonel of militia; but, like the mother of the first of Americans, "Lady Washington," as she was affectionately called, possessed qualities that made her worthy of high esteem for her own sake. It will suffice merely to give one picture of her which shows alike the domesticity of her nature and the simplicity of manners which were so prevalent at this time. Mrs. Carrington thus describes her most lasting impression of Mrs. Washington during a visit to Mount Vernon:

"Let us repair to the old lady's room, which is precisely in the style of our good aunt's,--that is to say, nicely fixed for all sorts of work. On one side sits the chambermaid, with her knitting; on the other, a little colored pet, learning to sew. An old, decent woman is there, with her table and shears, cutting out the negroes' winter clothes, while the good old lady directs them all, incessantly knitting herself. She points out to me several pairs of nice colored stockings and gloves she had just finished, and presents me with a pair half done, which she begs I will finish and wear for her sake."

Upon this picture Bishop Meade thus comments:

"If the wife of General Washington, having her own and his wealth at command, should thus choose to live, how much more the wives and mothers of Virginia with moderate fortunes and numerous children! How often have I seen, added to the above-mentioned scenes of the chamber, the instructions of several sons and daughters going on, the churn, the reel, and other domestic operations all in progress at the same time, and the mistress, too, lying on a sick-bed!"

All this is republican simplicity in its ideal form; but at another time, when Mrs. Washington is with her husband, the chief magistrate of the nation, at the seat of government, Mrs. Warren writes to her:

"Your observation may be true, that many younger and gayer ladies consider your situation as enviable; yet I know not one who by general consent would be more likely to obtain the suffrages of the sex, even were they to canvass at elections for the elevated station, than the lady who now holds the first rank in the United States."

Mrs. Warren is optimistic as to the probable result of such an election as she suggests; but the keynote of the quotation is sounded, though unintentionally, in the words "holds the first rank in the United States." With her advanced age to give it abetment, Mrs. Washington's admirable simplicity was doubtless preserved intact even in spirit through her occupation of the high position in which, by the grace of her husband's merits, she found herself; but the use of the word "rank" in such connection is ominous, especially in days of such enthusiasm for strait republicanism in all things. The recognition, though not the acknowledgment, of social rank arising from centralization and the spirit of a court was already present in democratic America.

While society was becoming formed and shaped into new moulds in the East, in the West the primitive conditions of settlement existed. Kentucky, the "dark and bloody ground," was the scene of true border warfare with the Indians before, during, and for a time after the War of Independence. While their sisters of the East were living in ease and affluence, the wives and daughters of the hardy pioneers were braving the terrors and perils of a wilderness as threatening as that which met the first white invaders of America. The first white women who stood upon the banks of the Kentucky River were the wife and daughters of Daniel Boone; but of them no legend of heroism is extant. Among their sister pioneers, however, deeds of daring were many. Famous for long were such women as Mrs. Duree, who alone held her house, after her husband had been killed, against the attacks of a band of Indians; Mrs. Whitley, whose leadership rescued a fellow pioneer who had been seized by the savages; Mrs. Merrill, who with her own hand killed with an axe four of a band of Indians that attacked her home and single-handed beat off the whole force; Elizabeth Zane, who at the siege of Fort Henry, when powder was wanted to repel the attack of the Indians and no man dared go for it beyond the gate, ran the gauntlet to and from her home, some sixty yards from the gate of the fort, and returned in safety with the prize, to be remembered in history as one of the foremost heroines of border warfare; and those noble women of Bryant's Station, who, in the hope that they would not draw the fire of the concealed Indians where a body of men would certainly be slain, walked calmly to the distant spring, filled their buckets as nonchalantly as if no danger existed, and returned unscathed, their coolness causing the Indians to believe that their ambush had not been detected and that it would therefore be a false move to betray its existence.

Such was the spirit of the women who shared in the development of the West. Their part, too, was to hearten and help their husbands in their incessant fight with the wilderness, savage beasts, and savage men; but this was too much a matter of course to call for note. The long rifle of the pioneer has been celebrated in song and story; but not surer, more needed, or more faithful was it than the wife who accompanied him in his explorations and shared his perils and toils. The women of Kentucky in those days, and all who helped the men to push further and further back the boundaries of savagery and extend those of civilization, deserve to be held in lasting remembrance by all who honor American womanhood, even though their qualities were not of those most admired in their sex. They had their place in our national story as well as their softer-reared sisters of the Atlantic coast, and they did their work as well and nobly.

Before returning to the social centre from our excursus into the wilds, it is proper to pause for an instant in the temple of letters and note a tablet on the walls. It is an old saying that "there is nothing new under the sun"; and it may surprise some readers to learn that the feminine preponderance in the fiction of the present, and even the growing tendency to laud precocity in authorship, are not without warrant in the earlier history of our nation's literature. Long ago Hannah Hill, the author of that cheerful tract called _A Legacy for Children: Last Expressions and Dying Words_, wrote and published a book when at the immature age of eleven; and even the present day cannot as yet surpass that piece of absurdity. More significant, however, is the fact that the first American novel was the work of a woman. Susanna Haswell was not of American birth, but she came to this country as a mere child and may fairly be claimed as a product of our soil, at least as far as her literary genius is concerned. In 1786 she published a work called _Victoria_, and, two years later, _The Inquisitor_. She then went to England with her lately married spouse, William Rowson, for a three years' residence; and it was during her absence from the country that she published the most famous of her works, _Charlotte Temple, a Tale of Truth_. It is this latter work that, with our national cheerful disregard for facts, is generally termed the "First American Novel," the existence of its predecessors and the fact of its foreign birth being entirely disregarded. However, the book was in its day a great success, having what was then an enormous sale--twenty-five hundred copies within a few years. While the style is of the most theatrical kind, the characters posing alternately in the front of the stage as they become the speakers, and the language is turgid to excess, the book is not without some merits. It is all impossible enough; but that forms little detriment to popularity even now, and the fact that no man or woman ever talked as talk Mrs. Rowson's characters does not make the work peculiar among its kind. It was published in 1892 in cheap form, but met with little welcome; yet it remains as a monument in our literature because of its titular position therein, though _Victoria_ was the first American novel in point of time. Mrs. Rowson returned to this country immediately after the publication of _Charlotte Temple_, and continued to write--pouring forth a full stream of plays, songs, stories, and even school books--until her death in Boston in 1824.

Let us now return to the whirlpool of society proper, as in those days known. The first presidential mansion, as is well known, was on Market Street, Philadelphia, and thither repaired the diplomats of foreign nations as well as our own statesmen and politicians,--the latter class already threatening to grow to unseemly proportions. Moreover, thither repaired most of the social leaders of their time, and the president's receptions, at which punch and cake were the staple refreshments, soon became at least as distinctly social as political in their aspects and influences. "The coteries of the Lady Presidentess" was the name bestowed by certain disgruntled persons on the frequenters of these functions, and there were murmurs as to lack of republican simplicity. Yet there was in the manner of these receptions little to call forth animadversion from the most uncompromising democrat; and the like functions of Mrs. Adams, less official but more social in character, were almost equally lacking in ornateness.

Still there was much gaiety in the Quaker City while it held its place as the seat of government. "I have not," writes Miss Mary Binney, a belle of this time, "one minute to spare from French, music, balls, and plays. Oh, dear, this dissipation will kill me! for you must know our social tea drinkings of _one or two friends_ is an assembly of two or three hundred souls."

The dissipation shocked some of the staider souls; and we find Mrs. Stoddert, in a letter to her niece, quoting her husband to the effect that "large towns are terrible places for young females." This was the pessimistic view of society which is always to the fore, whatever the existing conditions; but it seems to have had very little warrant at that time. The balls and "parties" brought together many of the leading beauties and wits of the day; and the Due de Rochefoucauld declared that "in the numerous assemblies of Philadelphia it is impossible to meet with what is called a plain woman." This assertion was somewhat hyperbolical; but among the famous Philadelphia beauties were Miss Sallie McKean, Mrs. William Bingham, Mrs. Samuel Blodgett, Mrs. James Allen and her daughters, and others hardly less notable; while from New York--by birth if not by actual residence--came such as Mrs. Ralph Izard and Mrs. Elbridge Gerry, and from further afield, Mrs. John Jay, who was once, while in Paris, mistaken by a French audience for the reigning queen, Marie Antoinette, and had no reason to be overflattered by the mistake, if we are to judge from the best portraits of the two beautiful women.

In the dress, as in the manners of the social leaders of that day there was but little of "republican simplicity." Everything was perforce imported from Europe, as America had no manufactures of dress stuffs, or anything else; and European fashions therefore avenged the defeat of English arms by their arbitrary rule, though they were a trifle late in their appearance after they had been set in their native countries. The words of Mrs. Stoddert upon her _coiffure_ are of interest in this connection:

"Instead of a wig," writes the lady in question, "I have a bando, which suits me much better. I had it in contemplation to get a wig, but I have got what I like much better for myself. It is called a bando. I think the former best for those who dress in a different style from myself, but the latter suits me best. I heard the ladies with whom I was in company last night say that the fashionable manner of dressing the hair was more like the Indians the hair without powder and looked sleek and hung down the forehead in strings. Mine will do that to a nicety. I observe powder is scarcely worn, only, I believe, by those who are gray--too much so to go without powder, I mean. How those ladies in the Indian fashion dress their hair behind I cannot say; but those out of that fashion that I have seen, and who do not wear wigs, have six or eight curls on their neck, and turn up the rest and curl the ends, which I think looks very pretty when well done."

John Adams, as all readers of our history know, believed, or affected to believe, that Washington possessed dangerously aristocratic tendencies which threatened to overthrow the most cherished of the new democratic ideals; and Senator Maclay, who was also inimical to the president, presumed on one occasion to go to a New Year's reception at the government house "in top boots and my worst clothes." "Anti-republican and dangerous precedents" were the epithets applied by Mr. Adams to the "birthnight ball" offered by the people of Philadelphia to General Washington, and declined as a personal compliment by the president of the United States,--the distinction may seem somewhat fine but was thus made at the time,--and so the social warfare went on. That the adherents of the more primitive methods were doomed to defeat it needed no extraordinary powers of vaticination to discern; but, though there was much talk of "the precedent of court manners at the Capital," no one seems to have understood the very evident fact that the centralization of society necessarily effected by the location of the government was sure to bring about the court atmosphere.

While Washington governed from Philadelphia, that city was as much a social centre as Paris or London, though of lesser sphere of influence.

The seat of government was moved, in the autumn of 1800, to the newly-risen town of Washington; and society for a while found itself compelled to face difficulties innumerable in its struggle for European customs as its established methods. Not only was there much hardship, incidental to the newness of the capital, to be undergone, but the inauguration of Thomas Jefferson, in the spring of 1801 as the third president, brought about some retrogression in the onward march of the social system. Jefferson affected a love for the extremes of "democratic simplicity," and he carried this to the verge of boorishness in some respects, giving mortal offence at times to foreign diplomats and native statesmen by his disregard for the amenities of courtly custom. Himself a polished gentleman, as a politician, Jefferson was something of the demagogue in such matters as social customs when these seemed of national import, and he was determined that the White House should in no way resemble the court of any European monarch, believing that thus he best pleased the people of the United States. So the first aspect of the White House was that of ruggedness, since its occupation by the testy John Adams and his family was of duration too short to be noted; and even Mrs. Adams, in her acceptance of her husband's theories, which, however, were not so radical, in practice at least, as those of his successor, was accused of hanging her drying clothes in the East Room of the presidential mansion.

The Jefferson era at the White House was lacking not only in social amenities but in the presence of female influence to soften its roughnesses. The daughters of the president, Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Eppes, were seldom with him during his eight years of tenancy, though both their husbands were members of Congress during that period. The two ladies were together at the White House for only a short visit, and individually they came rarely to visit their father and never took up their residence with him. Mrs. Randolph had a large family which needed attention, and Mrs. Eppes was for long in delicate health, and finally died in 1803, thereby causing her father the greatest grief of his life. Both were accomplished and handsome women, and they might, by their presence at the centre of government, have removed some of the stigma of discourtesy, rather than mere uncourtliness, that lay upon it. Jefferson, in his love for extremes, abolished all presidential receptions, except on New Year's Day and the Fourth of July, and the weekly levees which had been such a pleasant feature heretofore were sternly repressed as "undemocratic." So that, in its highest expressions, society had a parlous time during the two Jeffersonian administrations.

There were many private and unofficial functions, of course; and a number of society leaders were so daring as to call en masse upon the president upon the regular day for the weekly levee when these were first abandoned; but the reception which they met at his hands was so grim in its courtesy that the experiment was not repeated. Thenceforth, society settled down to enjoy itself as best it might without official sanction and encouragement; and it succeeded most admirably. There was even a flavor of officialdom to give its functions zest; for, if Mr. Jefferson refused to lend his presidential countenance to frivolities, his Secretary of State, Mr. Madison, was of another stamp, and Mrs. Madison, the ever-famous "Dolly," was a woman well calculated to lead society in its rapid march. Here is a picture of her from the pen of Dr. Mitchill, in turn representative and senator from New York: "She has a fine person and a most engaging countenance, which pleases, not so much from mere symmetry or complexion, as from expression. Her smile, her conversation, and her manners are so engaging that it is no wonder that such a young widow, with her fine blue eyes and large share of animation, should be indeed a Queen of Hearts."

Dolly Madison was the representative leader of American society of that day. Born a Quaker and brought up as a member of that sect, her demureness was of the surface, though it lasted her through the days of her union with James Todd, a Friend like herself. At his death, however, the lady began to show some signs of restlessness under the strait rules of her sect; and her marriage to James Madison emancipated her from the dominance of Quaker simplicity; gladly shaking off her chains, she made it her pleasant duty to be a leading member of the society of highest rank in America. When official circles moved to Washington and her husband a little later assumed the office of Secretary of State, Mrs. Madison, given her opportunity by the disregard for such matters on the part of the president, determined to make her husband's house the centre of Washington society, and she succeeded in this to admiration. There was no affectation of "republican simplicity" in her functions; they were admittedly as ornate as was possible under the circumstances, and doubtless they had their effect in promoting her husband to the office of chief executive of the nation. When this time came there was an end of austerity at the White House. All the functions of a court that were convenient to the circumstances of the position were resumed from the Philadelphia days, and more added thereto; and society, as found in its most representative aspect, was now fairly embarked upon its career. Under the Madison rule the White House became indeed the centre and director of the social orbit, as of the political.

In official circles at least, the slogan of "republican simplicity" was silent forever. However desirable such a thing might still seem to some in theory, in practice it was almost universally acknowledged to be impossible. Unless bachelorhood were made a necessary qualification for a president, there must frequently and even generally be in the country a woman who by common consent as by the publicity and responsibilities of her position must be the leading lady of the land and in so much the recognized queen of society, having her court and courtiers; and simplicity could not accompany such conditions. Dolly Madison hated the Democrats, and she had the satisfaction, even if she did not know her full triumph, of giving the death-blow to some of their most cherished and most impracticable theories in those days of experiment.

But Mrs. Madison had in her even better stuff than that required satisfactorily to fulfil the onerous calls of her social position. She dearly loved her husband; and when the storm of war again burst over the land, she supported and encouraged him in noble manner. Indeed, she presents a far more heroic picture than does the president, whose conduct at the battle of Bladensburg and during his wanderings after the flight from Washington, was not that for which we might look from one whose title was that of Commander-in-Chief of the forces of the United States. When Washington was threatened, Mrs. Madison gave a fine example of cheerful bravery; and when the peril grew to its highest point we find her thus writing to her sister: "Will you believe it, my sister, we have had a battle or skirmish near Bladensburg, and I am still here within sound of the cannon! Mr. Madison comes not. May God protect him! Two messengers, covered with dust, come to bid me fly; but I wait for him.... Our kind friend, Mr. Carroll, has come to hasten my departure, and is in very bad humor with me because I insist on waiting until the large picture of General Washington is secured, and it requires to be unscrewed from the wall."

It was probably this latter incident which gave rise to a venerable legend as to "Dolly Madison and the Constitution"; but the truth is sufficient to make her name honored. At last she was compelled to fly without her husband; and it is related that at the house where she paused for rest, the "lady" there residing came to the steps and called out: "Mrs. Madison, if that's you, come down and go out! Your husband has got mine out fighting, and, damn you, you shan't stay in my house!" To such straits was fallen "the first lady of the land"; and this profane virago simply, if somewhat coarsely, expressed a sentiment that was not confined to her or to a thousand like her.

The wanderings of the Madisons when they became reunited have passed into general history and need not here be recalled. Finally they returned to ruined Washington and watched it rise again from its ashes, British vandalism being in this instance productive of final good; for the new city was a vast improvement over the old one, which had been but tentative at the best. After the expiration of Mr. Madison's second term of office the pair took up their residence at Montpelier, and there lived almost in retirement until their deaths. Mrs. Madison survived her husband thirteen years; but she never survived the love which she gave him and which shows even more beautiful than their mutual emotion when we remember that these were middle-aged people when they were married. Even when they were old, long after their retirement into private life, we find the wife writing to her husband, during one of his few and brief absences from her, a letter which begins: "My Beloved, I trust in God that you are well again, as your letters assure me you are," and ends, "May angels guard thee, my best friend!"

Before her death, Mrs. Madison finally turned from the frivolities of society, was baptized and confirmed by the Bishop of Maryland, and declared that "There is nothing in this world really worth caring for." She did not include her love for her husband among the "things of this world"; and doubtless she spoke of the rest from full knowledge and with true judgment. She had in her nature elements which under stress showed high and noble; but probably she will be best remembered as the representative woman of American society during the formative period of the republic.

There is another name of that day well worthy of being singled out, even among so many worthy compeers, as representative of American womanhood in some of its noblest expressions. Though, from reasons born of the political mutations of that time and of personal relationship, she was never famous in society, or even in her time, Theodosia Burr was one of the noblest, as of the most accomplished, women of her brief day. If she was unfortunate in her parentage, she at least did not think so; for never was love between parent and child more beautiful than that which existed between Aaron Burr, the ostracized "traitor," and the lovely woman who called him father. This is no place for a defence of Burr; but in glancing at his family life we must lay aside political prejudice and see him as far as we may through the eyes of his daughter. That daughter was accomplished and intelligent beyond the scope of most men as well as women of her day. Her education lacked indeed the Christian element which is so beautiful in womanhood; but otherwise it might have been pronounced sufficient by the most exigent of critics. Moreover, she was a woman of the most delicate sensibilities, the tenderest affections. When her father was persecuted, as she at least deemed it, she clung to him with a fidelity that was as touching as it was deserved; for, whatever Burr may have been to others, to his daughters he was the most loving and considerate of parents. When he fell into disgrace Theodosia made strenuous efforts in his behalf; and her letter on the subject to Mrs. Madison is a model of pathetic and yet dignified entreaty for justice.

Her whole life was full of romance. The shadow of her father's ostracism hung over her during her last years, and though she had before his fall been married to Joseph Alston, of South Carolina, she was always the daughter rather than the wife, perhaps even than the mother, though her grief at the death of her only child was terrible. This sad event occurred just after the return of Burr from his long exile, and the daughter's joy was naturally forgotten in the sorrow of the mother, even though she may have held the gain greater than the loss. Others have been models of wives and mothers; but Theodosia, though in both those characters admirable beyond cavil, stands rather as the representative American daughter. Her father was her deity, her best self, her whole good; "If the worst comes to the worst," she wrote to him when he was in exile, "I will leave _everything_ to suffer with you." She was not driven to such sacrifice; yet the return of that beloved father to his country, if not to his rights, came too late for her. Broken down by the death of her child, she resolved to go by sea from her Southern home to New York to join her father, who alone, she thought, could give her comfort in her grief; but, true to the sad romance that surrounded her life, the little vessel on which she sailed was never heard from after leaving port. How Theodosia met her fate is unknown; but we may be sure that it was with fortitude and calmness, whatever guise that fate may have worn.

Theodosia Burr, for thus, rather than as Theodosia Alston, will she always be known, and Dorothy Madison stand out prominently as divergent types of the highest development of the women of their day; and we can hold them to have been fairly, if somewhat exaggeratedly representative of American womanhood at that period. The close of the War of 1812, like that of the Revolution, marked an era in the history of the women of America, even though the line of demarcation was not drawn with sufficient sharpness of definition to be clear to the sight. From 1785 to 1812 American society, using the word in its broadest sense, was in a condition of formation; at the end of that period it began to take on coherence and individuality in certain directions, at the same time that it became less individual in others. The close of that era found American womanhood ready for onward march. It had tried its strength in various ways, and now it knew its powers. While in its inherent qualities it was much the same as it had been twenty years before, there had arisen new conditions, mostly of internal origin, to which it must adapt itself. This was less the fact with the rural woman-life than with the urban; but it is the latter which stands out most prominently when we look back upon the past and which must be accepted as generally representative. The women of Kentucky, aiding their stalwart husbands in reclaiming the ground from the wilderness and in holding it against Indian attack, the farmer's wife, taking upon herself more than the moiety of the daily toil and rearing her children in the simple ways and faith of her fathers, even the undermost strata of the cities, that unconsidered but potent element in social history,--all these were almost unaffected by the things which made for evolution among their sisters of higher station and easier lives. It is to these latter that we must cling in our search for the true history of the women of our land in times of peace, though when strife filled the country with need for strength their praise was shared by their humbler compeers.

Into American society had been introduced an element which had for a time disappeared, but only to reappear in altered but not less effective form, the element of aristocracy. The old order had indeed faded; but a new one had leaped into its place, and it was one that was quite as powerful for good and evil as was its predecessor. A country without an aristocracy, acknowledged or merely accepted, is an impossibility, however dear to republican ideas; and the birth of the new aristocracy in America was as sure as if there had been but a change of kings when allegiance to George III. was cast off. Not the true republicanism of Washington--not the affected democracy of Jefferson--could avert its coming; it was inevitable. It remained to be seen if it would be accepted in best manner and made an influence for good rather than for evil; and this, though they did not recognize the fact, was the gravest problem that confronted American women, in their social aspect, when they once more took up the pursuits of peace.