"'Tis true, we love the courtly mien and air,The pride of dress, and all the debonair:Yet Clara quits the more dressed negligé,And substitutes the careless polancé;Until some fair one from Britannia's courtSome jaunty dress, or newer taste, import;This sweet temptation could not be withstood,Though for the purchase paid her father's blood,Though loss of freedom were the costly price,Or flaming comets sweep the angry skies,Or earthquakes rattle, or volcanoes roar;Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more.Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny?'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply."
"'Tis true, we love the courtly mien and air,The pride of dress, and all the debonair:Yet Clara quits the more dressed negligé,And substitutes the careless polancé;Until some fair one from Britannia's courtSome jaunty dress, or newer taste, import;This sweet temptation could not be withstood,Though for the purchase paid her father's blood,Though loss of freedom were the costly price,Or flaming comets sweep the angry skies,Or earthquakes rattle, or volcanoes roar;Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more.Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny?'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply."
"'Tis true, we love the courtly mien and air,
The pride of dress, and all the debonair:
Yet Clara quits the more dressed negligé,
And substitutes the careless polancé;
Until some fair one from Britannia's court
Some jaunty dress, or newer taste, import;
This sweet temptation could not be withstood,
Though for the purchase paid her father's blood,
Though loss of freedom were the costly price,
Or flaming comets sweep the angry skies,
Or earthquakes rattle, or volcanoes roar;
Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more.
Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny?
'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply."
This is very fair satire, though it would have been better had the comets and earthquakes and volcanoes, which clearly would not be influenced by Clara's folly, been omitted from the lines; but, though doubtless the rebuke was merited by a few of the irresponsible and thoughtless girls of the day who made of fashion their one object of worship, the poem is a libel if applied to the majority of American women of the day, who sacrificed more than the whims of fashion in their devotion to the needs of their native land.
Mrs. Warren, however, did better work than that which has been cited. Her history of the Revolution was much admired and for years remained one of the standard works upon the subject, though it might be difficult to find a dozen copies of the book at the present time. It was rather personal in some of its political references, and its portrait of Adams brought about a rupture in the friendship that had long existed between the Warrens and the Adamses; but this was but for a time. Mrs. Warren's style was tainted with the affectation so prevalent in that day, and she was profuse in classical allusion, as were the majority of the authors of her period. She writes thus to Mr. Adams at the time of the calling together of the first Continental Congress: "Though you have condescended to ask my sentiments, in conjunction with those of a gentleman qualified both by his judgment and his integrity, as well as his attachment to the interest of his country, to advise at this important crisis, yet I shall not be so presumptuous as to offer anything but my fervent wishes that the enemies of America may hereafter for ever tremble at the wisdom and firmness, the prudence and justice of the delegates deputed from our cities, as much as did the Phocians of old at the power of the Amphictyons of Greece. But if the Locrians should in time appear among you, I advise you to beware of choosing an ambitious Philip as your leader. Such a one might subvert the principles on which your institution is founded, abolish your order, and build up a monarchy on the ruins of the happy institution."
This extract shows not only the style of the writer, but the esteem in which she was held by some of the foremost men of the day; for Adams would not have "asked the sentiments" of one for whose judgment he had not profound respect.
Dramatist, poet, historian, and correspondent of some of the most noted men of her day, Mercy Warren stands as the foremost woman representative of American letters in Revolutionary days. It is true that her activities were by no means confined to this period, for she was born in 1728 and died in 1814, having thus passed eighty-seven years of well-filled life; but she is as much the woman writer of the Revolution as Freneau is its male poet. Perhaps neither name is familiar to the present generation; but Mercy Warren and Philip Freneau, if not of the highest order of their calling, did notable work in the cause of American letters, and the former is well worthy of being included in any work that purports to tell, however incompletely, the history of American womanhood.
The shadow passed at length, leaving the country maimed, bleeding, but still lusty with vigor and with the waxing strength of youth. The passing of the shadow found the women of America for the most part shorn of the gauds that women love, destitute of the lesser things of life, but filled with a proud sense of new birth with their country. To the triumphant result of the years of strife and struggle they had contributed in full measure; and they were ready, however they might be hampered by present conditions, to reap the fruit of the period of contest no less than the men, though in different fashion.
Moreover, though in hidden methods, they had asserted themselves and the power of their womanhood as never before. They had turned from the sporadic and eccentric attempts of some of their sex to win fame by religious leadership or other such manifestations of restless ambition; they had shown their power of concentrated and universal consecration to a cause when it was found worthy thereof, and they had evidenced their intensity of devotion to that which was of the best. The period of formation was over; the battle-filled days of the Revolution saw the birth of the American woman as an individual entity.
There is yet another name which must be recorded here, less for the merit of the work done than for the sentiment which attaches to that work. There still stands on Arch Street, Philadelphia, the little house where Betsy Ross made the first American flag that was given to the breeze of battle and conquest. Not perhaps the very first American flag, since Paul Jones's rattlesnake flag might fitly claim that honor, but the first to be recognized as in any way national and to survive, and therefore honored as truly the first of its kind. It is not Betsy Ross, but the birth of the flag of our country, of which we think when we look at that little house and remember why it is honored. But it is fitting that the maker of that flag which is the symbol of our country should find mention here, even though she had no other claim to be remembered among the notable women of our land.
And her fate is happier than that of her sisters of the Revolution, for the outward evidence of her work remains while that of the rest has passed away and is forgotten. Yet their work, regarded as done by the women of our country in general, was greater than hers, for she but furnished the symbol of that which they, by their courage and endurance of hardness and enthusiasm and faith, made a living thing. Nor must there be forgotten another contribution of the women to the cause of their native land,--their prayers. It is a scoffing age, but there still remain some who believe that prayer is of avail, that "more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of," and these will not doubt that the petitions which went up from the length and breadth of the land for the success of the beloved cause were effectual in result. There were many women who, from lack of opportunity or power, had nothing else to give than their prayers for their country; and these they gave in full measure and with a fervency that doubtless helped to win the answer that they sought.
The Revolution marked an era in the social as in the political history of the United States, and the transition furnishes an opportunity to tell something of the women of Canada. For the sake of completeness, it is needful also to cast a fleeting glance at those strange hyperboreans, the Eskimo, and this chapter has seemed the most convenient and appropriate place for such consideration.
There is no necessity to give any detailed account of the dwellers of the ice-bound coast region. Ethnologists are not agreed on even the main points of their origin and history, and recessive statements could be but speculation. Of the actual conditions of Eskimo life,--these conditions being simple and few,--most people know all that is to be known. Yet it may be well to remark in the inception of this account that the name "Eskimo" is ungrateful to the people whom we thus designate; it was bestowed upon them by their enemies, the northern Indians, and in the Indian language signifies "eaters of fish," a term of disdain. The people term themselves, and should in common courtesy be termed, the Innuits, which means simply "Our Folks." Thus, therefore, shall they be called in this account.
The Innuits are a nomadic people, living during the winter inigloos, or ice huts, during the summer in skin tents calledtupies, but moving from place to place as chance or the necessity of sustenance suggests. They have not attained a high degree of civilization and may indeed be termed semi-savages; yet they have some excellent traits, together with some contradictory ones. Thus, they will steal anything on which they can lay their hands; but they hold a lie in utter detestation, and toshay-va-loo(tell a lie) is to brand the teller as worthy of social ostracism. The first of these traits may arise from the existence among them of some of the socialistic theories of our own civilization; but the second is not a purely civilized trait, as civilization is known to us.
Living in a community of most primitive conditions of existence, even in the household, morals are not at a high standard among the Innuits. Yet there is to be found among them a high degree of domesticity in certain directions, and their women appear to be affectionately cared for and held in high esteem for semi-savages. The personal appearance of these ladies is far from captivating to a Caucasian eye, they being as a rule of a figure only to be described as "pudgy," while their features are coarse and unintelligent. Their dress is the same as that of the men: Long stockings of reindeer skin, with the hair next the person; socks of eider-duck skin, with feathers on both sides; socks of seal skin, with the hair outside; boots, the legs of reindeer skin, the hair outside, the soles of seal skin; and a jacket of reindeer skin, fitting to the form, though not tightly. In this latter article of apparel is to be found the sole difference between the male and female costume, the women attaching to their jackets long tails, which reach almost to the ground, while their jackets also have hoods, frequently used for carrying their children. The women also, as is natural, adorn their costumes to a degree not common among the men; one belle was described by Mr. Hall, who spent two winters among this curious race, as having a fringe of colored beads across the neck of her jacket, bowls of Britannia-metal teaspoons down the front flap, and a double row of copper cents, surmounted by a bell from an old-fashioned clock, down the tail, which was bordered by a beading of elongated lead shot. But such extravagance of adornment as this is rare and can be attained only by the most wealthy. The ladies also wear finger rings and headbands of polished brass.
Such is the normal winter dress of the Innuit women; and the summer costume, while less characteristic, varies but little in general form from that of the colder months. Their life is monotonous and absolutely tame, according to civilized ideas. They play at times upon thekeeloun, a kind of tambourine; but as a rule their merrymaking is confined to feasting, and of the conduct at these feasts the less said the better. Monogamy is the rule among the Innuits, and the women are generally affectionate wives and mothers, especially the latter. When Tookoolito and her husband, Ebierbing, visited America in the middle of the late century, they lost their child, "Butterfly," an infant of about a year old, and poor little Tookoolito was inconsolable; she longed to die, that she might find again her lost "Butterfly," and she tended the little grave, made in the burial ground at Groton, Connecticut, with the tenderest care, placing thereon, according to the Innuit superstition, the favorite toys of the little one, that it might have them in its sojourn in the beyond. The love of parents for their children is indeed one of the most pronounced and most estimable traits of the Innuit character.
This brief sketch of the women of the hyperboreans must suffice, for there are more important matters of feminine history demanding attention, and indeed the Innuit culture, if so it may be termed, presents few salient features as to the condition of its women. In status and conditions they occupy a place about midway between the woman of the Indian tribes and her of the lower phases of our own civilization.
Southward now to the land of the mixed blood, where the two ancient enemies, France and England, have joined in a race that owes allegiance to the latter but retains many of the characteristics of the former. To write the history of Canadian women is largely to speak of individuals, since there has been but little alteration or development of conditions of a social nature. Yet some may be noted.
The first settlement of Canada, in which term is of course included Acadia, or, as it is now known, Nova Scotia, was touched by a strange romance. The Sieur de Roberval was on his voyage to join the great Jacques Cartier and with him to found a colony, when he discovered that his niece, Marguerite de Roberval, loved, more fondly than was consistent with the Sieur's conceptions of right, a young cavalier of his company. A lonely island, known as the Isle of Demons, was sighted soon after this discovery was made; and Roberval sternly condemned his niece to perpetual imprisonment on this barren rock. Her lover jumped overboard and swam after his beloved; and together they lived, forgotten of men, on the island, thus founding the first Canadian home. A child was born to them, but it died early, and Marguerite's lover, whose name has not come down to us, soon followed his infant. Marguerite with her own hands hollowed the graves of those she loved, and then she lived on, more lonely than even Alexander Selkirk, on this island which was for her full of terrors, real and imagined; the nature of the latter may be guessed from the name bestowed upon the place. She was clad in skins and learned to use the guns with which, in strange mercy, she had been provided by her uncle; and it was not until more than two years had passed that she was rescued by some Maloine fishermen and found her way to her native land. Here she lived in seclusion until her death, which did not come until she had passed the number of years allotted to man.
So the first Canadian home was founded in romance, and, better yet, in true love; and Marguerite de Roberval, faithful wife in fact if not by title, deserves to be held in honor among Canadian traditions as the tutelary saint of the Canadian household. Nor was there lack of romance in the further story of the women of Canada, while love and faith are also to be found prominent in that story.
Of the condition of the women in the Acadian colony but little is known. It was probably, as a rule, that which was common to the French peasantry of the time; but there was in the settlement a lack of women, as we know from the account of Marc Lescarbot in 1507, wherein he tells us that it was owing to the want of good housewives that the cows which had been imported at so many pains died soon after their arrival; and much of his treatise is given up to bewailing the absence from the colony of women in sufficient numbers to make it pleasant and thriving. Yet among these colonists, who were rudely driven from their homes by the strong hand of England, there were women, as we know from the poetical story of Evangeline, too familiar in Longfellow's poem to be narrated here, as well as from the later story of the Lady de la Tour, a Huguenot girl who had married Charles la Tour, the seigneur of Port Royal. It was a time of conspiracy and internecine strife among the people of Acadia, and though conspiracy and strife were petty enough in cause and action and result, they were none the less important to the actors in them. There arose on the part of Charles de Menou, Seigneur d'Aulnay de Charnisay, a plot to deprive La Tour of his seigniory, which Charnisay, whose lands adjoined those of his rival, claimed as his own. The French court and the governor's house at Boston, then tenanted by the stern John Endicott, were made in turn arenas of dispute, but we are concerned more with the appeal to force which came at last. Charles La Tour had gone to Boston to seek aid against his rival, leaving his fort in the hands of his wife, who had already been of sterling service in baffling the intrigues of Charnisay, when his opponent, hearing that the chatelaine was alone in command of the fort and had but fifty retainers and little ammunition, determined to take by force that which he coveted. So he sailed into the Bay of Saint John, where stood Fort La Tour, and summoned the garrison to surrender. But the Lady de la Tour was as dauntless in courage as she was faithful in heart to the fortunes of her husband, and she answered with cannon balls. Charnisay replied in kind, but the lady had the better of the argument, though conducted on principles not congenial to her sex, and she forced her foe to retire in discomfiture, notwithstanding his superiority in men and arms. She herself directed and inspired the defence, and it is said that she even laid some of the guns with her own hands. Her triumph was brief, however, for Charnisay returned in two months' time; and though she again gallantly defended her home and her husband's stronghold, her situation grew at last so desperate that she yielded to fair proffers of treaty and surrendered. But the victor had no intention of holding to his plighted word, and he promptly hanged every man in the garrison, with the exception of one who turned hangman as the price of his own miserable life. To make the blot upon his escutcheon yet fouler, Charnisay actually had the rope placed around the neck of the chatelaine herself; but, though her heroic spirit disdained to plead for safety to such a monster, either whim or some fear of results, for he could not be accused of any humane impulse, caused him to remit the sentence. It might almost as well have been carried out, however, for in a few days the lady died from grief at her defeat and the baseness of treachery to which she and her followers had been subjected.
Whittier has sung the wrath of the husband of the Lady de la Tour; but he omits to mention, nor would it chime well with the rest of the poem, that years afterward that husband married the widow of the man who had placed the rope around the neck of the heroic lady, and who had been drowned in the Penobscot River while on a voyage. The marriage, which found its celebrants at an advanced age for matrimonial union, settled forever the sternest struggle that Acadia had known; but even this desirable result scarcely enables us to forgive the Seigneur de la Tour for his treason to the memory of his devoted wife in thus allying himself to the house of him who had done her to death.
With this story of the most famous of the women of Acadia let us turn to Canada proper. It was not for some time after the first futile and later partially successful attempts to found a colony upon the bleak shores of the Saint Lawrence that there was to be found on those shores the refining influence that comes from feminine companionship. The first permanent colony, however, which established itself on the heights of Quebec, held among its members one of the gentler sex, Dame Hebert, the wife of Louis Hebert, who had been an Acadian. His wife was a woman of courage and resource, as befitted a pioneer colonist; and she had need of both qualities in her fight with the conditions that pressed so hardly upon the new colonists. She first set her foot upon Canadian soil in 1617, and she lived through the most remarkable of the mutations of the first colony, including the surrender to the English and the treaty of Saint Germain which again gave Canada to France. For the first three years of her sojourn in the new land she was the only woman on those shores; and when in 1620 she was joined in her isolation by Helene de Champlain, wife of the great pioneer of New France, it was but for a time, hardly four years in all. At the expiration of that period Madame de Champlain returned, broken in health and spirits by her exile, to her beloved France, held by her in higher esteem than her gallant but cold husband, and there she entered a convent, leaving behind her a memory as one of the two women who first inhabited the wilderness of New France, and leaving also her name to an island in the Saint Lawrence. Though much may be said in extenuation of the homesickness and lack of endurance found in the young wife of the great Champlain, she was no heroine as was Dame Hebert, and her easy acceptance of the Catholic faith as her own after her marriage,--she had been a staunch Huguenot,--moved thereto rather by the atmosphere of her new home than by any conviction, is suggestive of the real lack of strength in her character. Yet she is worthy of remembrance as one of the women pioneers of Canada. Those of her sex who followed in her westward footsteps were generally made of sterner stuff than the faint-hearted Helene; but it was long before she knew a successor as one of the women of New France, for her return to the land of her birth was in 1624, and it was not until 1634 that the third woman, the wife of the surgeon Giffard, came to found a home amid the wilds of the west. It is true that there were two girls, the daughters of Dame Hebert, in the colony even before the coming of Madame de Champlain; but these could be considered only as involuntary pioneers and do not deserve to be placed among those who came of their free will, or for love of their husbands. One of these daughters of Dame Hebert, however, furnished in her union with Stephen Jonquest occasion for the first marriage ceremony celebrated in Canada, a ceremony which preceded by more than two years that first celebrated in New England.
For more than two decades after the death of Champlain in 1635, the tide of immigration was very feeble; but it bore on its bosom two notable women in the annals of Canada Madame de la Peltrie, the founder of the first girls' school ever opened in the province, and Mother Marie Guyard, the honored head of that school. In 1659 these two and five other women, three calling themselves Hospitalières, arrived at the little settlement of Quebec, consisting of scarcely two hundred and fifty souls. They came for the glory of God, to work His work among the Indians; and they were received with all the honors the little colony could compass. Madame de la Peltrie, the head of the peaceful expedition, found the state of affairs worse than she had been told by the missionaries who had urged her coming; but she faced the difficulties and discouragements of the situation with a heart as gallant as that of those of her sex who dared "battle, murder, and sudden death" at the hands of the Indians in their search for a home, and the Ursuline Convent at Quebec is an enduring monument to the memory of the women who did so much for the uplifting of the Indians of Canada.
Her coadjutor, Mother Marie Guyard, left behind her a name no less honored than that of Madame de la Peltrie a name unexcelled for the virtues of piety, constancy, self-sacrifice, and devotion to the cause of degraded humanity. Her work among the Indians bore noble fruit, even if hardly to the extent of her wishes. She had many discouragements to face and obstacles to overcome; among them, not a few at the hands of those who should have been her allies. In 1661 the new governor, Baron Dubois d'Avaugour, moved thereto by an ill-advised plea on the part of a missionary for the commutation of the sentence passed upon a woman for violating the law that no brandy should be sold to the Indians, gave free license to the sale of spirituous liquors throughout the dominion. The result was deplorable and almost nullified the work of a score of weary years; and Mother Marie, sick at heart, wrote thus to her son:
"I have told you in another letter about a cross that is far harder to bear than the incursions of the Iroquois. There are in this country certain Frenchmen so despicable and so little touched by the fear of God that they are ruining all our new Christians by giving them strong drink, such as wine and brandy, to get their beaver-skins from them."
It was because of this and kindred causes that Mother Marie deemed her life-work a failure at last; but the thought was erroneous. She left her influence in the hearts of many of her Indian pupils, and she gave to Canada by her efforts the school which is one of the noblest monuments of the past of Quebec.
The Hospitalières, who had come over in the same ship with the founders of the girls' school, founded the hospital that is now known as Quebec's Hotel-Dieu; at first, their philanthropic efforts on behalf of the Indians found nothing but failure as reward, for an unfortunate epidemic that broke out soon after the establishment of the hospital in an old storeroom, and the death of most of the patients there treated, persuaded the red men that the hospital was a scheme devised for their extinction rather than for their good. But here, too, perseverance in good works overcame stupendous difficulties, though here again, as well, the result did not take the form which was at first intended. Yet none the lighter is the praise to be awarded to the noble women who undertook the work and who carried it on in the face of danger and failure, and the names of such women as Marie Irwin, Catherine Chevalier, and Madame d'Ailleboust, the wife of the third governor of Quebec, are still deservedly held in honor by the dwellers in New France.
In the younger sister colony to Quebec, that of Montreal, Jeanne Mance founded a hospital with the money supplied her by Madame Bullion, a rich and pious widow living in Old France but interested in all projects for the amelioration of existent conditions in the new land. The hospital was of excellent service in caring for the wounded who had done battle with the fierce Iroquois, and many a stricken soldier blessed the name of its founder. Marguerite de Bourgeoys, of whom Parkman writes as the "fair ideal of Christian womanhood, a flower of earth expanding in the rays of heaven," on her part founded in Montreal a girls' school, and her work so prospered that she actually built by her own efforts a church, now known, though in its second building, as "Notre Dame de Bonsecours." She and Jeanne Mance were known as "the two mothers of Montreal," and well did they deserve the honorable title.
The work and character of Marguerite de Bourgeoys are thus admirably summed up by a recent biographer:
"The visible result of Marguerite de Bourgeoys' long life in Canada was the institution of a band of young women who were bound by vows to teach the young, the building of a church, and the establishment of schools for the instruction of Indian and French children. She died January 12, 1700. Her heart, which had beaten with pain at the cry of suffering childhood, with agony at the shriek of the tortured victim of Iroquois cruelty, with shame at the contentions of Christian brotherhoods, and with rapture when even one little child received the anointing drops of baptism, that heart, encased in its silver covering, now rests in the chapel of a convent where she so long labored and loved."
These were the triumphs of peace, won by heroines of endurance and patience rather than of fiery physical courage; but of the latter quality there were many brilliant examples among the women of the French settlers of Canada. Madeleine de Verchères is both famous and typical among these sterner heroines. She was but fourteen years old when she found herself in charge of her father's fort, that fort suddenly burst upon by the savage Iroquois, and she with a garrison consisting of two soldiers, two boys, and an old man of eighty. There were women and children also, but these were detriments, not aids. The gallant girl, though actually surprised in the fields by the marauders, managed to close the gates, took command of the panic-stricken company,--the soldiers were as frightened and helpless as the rest,--and soon organized a defence which lasted for a week, and was ended by the arrival of a succoring force. Her little brothers, but ten and twelve years of age respectively, nobly seconded her efforts; but the whole glory of the splendid defence was due to Madeleine, whose account of the occurrence is extant. She inherited heroic blood on the distaff side, for her mother, two years before, had held the same fort with but four armed men against an attack by the Iroquois, the siege lasting two days.
The conditions of the first half century of Canadian colonization were generally similar to those existing in New England, of course, with a difference of racial impulses and customs. That half century saw but slow development of the country; but between 1665 and 1667 the coming of the Carignan regiment, sent by Louis XIV. to establish firmly his hold upon the new dominion, brought about a change. In order to prevent desertion and make the soldiers truly at home in the land, it was soon found necessary that there should be established homes, and to this end women were necessary. But women were precisely the rarest treasure in the Canadas, and there was therefore adopted the plan, already executed in the English colonies of the South, of importing girls as wives. Accordingly, from time to time, there arrived consignments of maidens, called "the king's girls," and semi-annual wife-markets were held in Quebec and Montreal. The character of these imported ladies was not invariably of the best; but a trifle such as this did not affect the soldiers of the baser sort, who were willing to overlook past peccadillos in consideration of the dowry which their wives brought them and in hope of gaining the bounty offered for the rearing of large families. Moreover, there was passed a law which provided that every unmarried young man, who had not within two weeks of the arrival of a company, entered into the matrimonial state should be deprived of the privileges of hunting, fishing, and trading, while the persistent bachelors were to be excluded from all places of honor and responsibility, and it was even suggested that they should be branded as felons. Marriage was certainly esteemed honorable in those days. The account of La Hontan, a witty officer of the Canadian forces, of the first coming of "the king's girls" is worth quoting in part:
"After these first inhabitants there came a folk useful to the country and a good riddance to the Kingdom. There arrived one day at Quebec a small fleet loaded with Amazons and crowds of females, Nuns of Paphos or of Cythera conducting this precious cargo. I have been told the circumstances of their coming, and I cannot resist the pleasure of sharing the story with you.
"This chaste folk was led to the pasture by old and prudish Shepherdesses. As soon as they had arrived, these wrinkled dames passed their soldiery in review, and having separated them into three classes, each group entered a different room. As they had to crowd quite close together on account of the smallness of the place, they made rather a pleasant decoration, and the good merchant Cupid had no reason to be ashamed of his wares. Never had he made a better assortment. Blonde, brunette, red, black, fat, thin, large, small,--he could satisfy the most bizarre and most fastidious tastes.
"The report of the new cargo being spread abroad, all the well-intentioned in the way of multiplication hastened thither. As it was not permitted to examine all and still less to take them on trial, it was a case of buying a pig in a poke, or rather of buying the whole piece from the sample. But the disposal of them was none the less rapid on this account. Each selected his partner, and in a fortnight these three lots of venison had been taken away with all the seasoning that could be taken with them.
"The next day the Governor-general caused to be distributed to them enough provisions to give them courage to embark upon this stormy sea. They went to housekeeping almost as did Noah in the Ark, with an ox, a cow, a pair of swine, a pair of fowls, two barrels of salted meat, and a piece of money. The officers were more fastidious than the soldiers and allied themselves with the daughters of other officers or of the richer settlers who had been established in the country for nearly a century."
The coming of these girls in such numbers, followed or accompanied as they were by many young Frenchmen of gay, if not dissolute habits, produced a natural change in the aspect of the social conditions. Simplicity became a thing of the past, and the merriment, as in New England, at last became scandalous to those of graver trend of thought. Some restrictive laws were passed, among others one which provided that all girls and women should be in their houses by nine of the night; but as some who incurred the penalty were dragged from their beds and whipped by officers of the town, the punishment seems hardly less conducive to lesion of good morals than the crime itself. As in New England, laws regulating personal adornment were passed, and the wearer of a top-knot was refused admission to the communion; and all these stern enactments had about as much repressive effect as their fellows in the lower colonies,--practically none.
From this time forward there began to grow in New France the follies and frivolities of her mother country, and there arose that which is termed "society," at least in the growing towns. Quebec and Montreal flourished, and the young, and also the old at times, frolicked and danced and made merry. On the frontiers there was still some of the fine simplicity of olden days; but those frontiers were being pushed further and further away from proximity to the towns. At last there came the time when the infamous Bigot ruled in Quebec, caring for nothing but to fill his purse and take his pleasures; and then Canadian society touched its lowest. There was thought of little beyond rout and revel; Bigot ruled as if king of New France, and emulated his sovereign in Old France by having his Pompadour in the person of Angelique de Pean, who was as grasping and reckless as was her French compeer. She was a beautiful woman, the wife of Monsieur de Pean,--who considered the surrender of his wife to Bigot but a fair return for certain lucrative offices,--and she did not, as it is said, though not proved, hesitate to stain her hands with blood in order to maintain her influence over the Intendant. At last came Nemesis; the English were at the gates of Quebec. Not all the influence and efforts of the noble Montcalm could avert the coming disaster, and Quebec fell. With it fell the ascendency of French ways in "Our Lady of the Snows." After the coming of the English and the partial amalgamation of the two races, there was a steady development of society; but it was along normal lines and was not of a nature to call for remark. It did not tend to any individuality of type; it produced very charming women, but not a typical woman as differing from the representatives of other modern races. This is said of the cities of Canada. There were mutations of fashion and custom and thought and conditions; but these were not individual but rather reflexes of the universal movements of society, save that they were a little modified by the circumstances which were imposed by natural causes upon their progress. It is true that Canadian society was peculiar in its preservation, in certain ways, of the lines distinguishing the Latin and the Teuton; but these lines grew fainter and fainter, and even when most distinctly marked held on the one side or the other nothing that was not of European origin and method. Therefore there remains nothing to be said of the Canadian woman of the cities. There were many individuals doubtless worthy of mention for special graces or attributes, but they were not typical of any peculiar culture. They represented nothing, being but projections of English or French womanhood in its variant aspects. With the coming of the English ends the story of Canadian women as found in the strongholds of femininity.
Still the story is not yet completely told, for there were then and have been ever since outlying posts of womanhood in the Dominion, where there has been preserved a certain individuality of type. The Gallic blood runs almost uncontaminated, giving impulse of Gallic thought and custom, in the veins of those who are called thehabitantsthe French-Canadians of olden type. Their very title is suggestive; it tells of "unreconstructed" alliance to the spirit of their original country, that "pleasant land of France." They are but inhabitants, not citizens in truth of the land over which floats the banner of England; they are French at heart as in origin.
So we can still find in Canada an individual type of womanhood, though to do so we must go somewhat far afield. Even so, the type is not of pronounced peculiarity; it touches and even blends with other types of the Latin countries of Europe and meets at certain points even the lines of our own Teutonic culture. But this latter meeting is brought about by circumstances rather than inherent tendency and is not racial. It is indeed a remnant of the old conditions of pioneer life, which imposes upon Latin as well as Teuton certain fixed and imperative needs, to be met only by equally fixed methods.
If we go into the French-Canadian villages, where alone we can find an individual womanhood in the Dominion, we shall find conditions that do not exist in exactly similar form elsewhere, and which have been brought about by racial modification of accepted circumstances. The woman of the habitants is in many respects primitive in the sense of the primitive culture of America while still in its infancy of Caucasian settlement. It is true that with the growth of towns and the development of the railway systems there is constantly coming change in the conditions of the habitants, and that it is becoming more and more needful to extend our pilgrimage to the remoter quarters of the country if we would find the more primitive conditions; but they still exist. Some of these enduring customs are peculiarly connected with womanhood. The use of the loom, for example, is still known in some of the far-away villages of the French-Canadians, and in those villages little is worn that is not the product of home toil. It may be that this is the only quarter of the western hemisphere where the hand loom is not a thing of the past; but here it exists, and with it as its natural accompaniment some of the more old-fashioned traits of womanhood. The wife of thehabitantis industrious, thrifty, cleanly, and simple in ideas and manners. She is economical to a degree that is rarely found among the Latin races, and she has other virtues that are not common among those of like racial origin. She is moral and religious; indeed, in the latter quality she may be excessive in one way, being entirely under the dominion of her spiritual pastor. But then she has good reason for this filial obedience, for the relations of the French-Canadian bishop or priest with his flock are in all ways commendable. She is fond of innocent gaiety and not averse to adornment of person when this does not conflict with her love of economy; but when, as sometimes happens, the bishop issues a pastoral in which he commands the relinquishment of certain modes of amusement, such as the waltz, or reprehends certain named frivolities of costume, she abandons the forbidden thing with a quiet obedience which may be unmodern in spirit, but which is pleasant to see in its cheerful submission to an authority which she considers as the highest that can be evoked and one which it were sin to despise or disobey.
The wife of thehabitanthas also a virtue which is not in high esteem among her sisters of a higher culture, but which is still held in respect among the more primitive communities: she is highly prolific. Families of fifteen children are common among the French-Canadians, and the mother of but a paltry half-dozen feels that she has not done her duty to humanity and her country. Early marriages are the rule among thehabitants, being wisely encouraged by the priests in the interests of morality. It is a sociable race, and the women vie with each other in promoting the innocent gaiety which makes up a large part of their lives. Because of this love for social merriment as well as of their religious feeling, the fêtes of the Church are celebrated in French Canada as nowhere else in northern America, and the industry of the women is tempered by the frequent holidays which call for enjoyment. Their dress is as a rule simple and, in the further outlying communities, which are chiefly referred to here, frequently entirely of homespun material, the fruit of their own labors.
One of the chief traits of the French-Canadians, male and female, is their love of music; yet to the cause of music the women of French Canada have furnished but one noted contribution, Madame Albani, the famous opera singer, who owns birth as one of this people, though hardly as a truehabitante, in the more limited sense of the word. But music is the greatest passion of the French-Canadians, and the violin holds an honored place in all their communities. It is in the simple pleasure of listening to the music of the violin, or of dancing to its merry strains, that the woman of the habitants finds her chief respite from the toils of her daily life.
Such is the most characteristic type of womanhood of the Canada of to-day. It is a good type and a comely; but it is not fitted to endure before the changes which our present culture brings about where it enters. Thehabitantsform the nearest approach to a peasantry, as found in European lands, that this country can show; and peasantry is doomed to extinction, be it sooner or later. In the case of the simple people of French Canada, it would seem that it will be sooner.
In the history of her women, Canada need veil her face before the claims of no other country of the globe. No land has been graced by nobler types, either by birth or adoption, than the Dominion; yet she has failed to produce a racial type, and it may be that her lot is the happier that it is so. It is enough for her that she can point to such daughters, whether of their own wills or by birthright, as Madame de la Peltrie, Mother Marie Guyard, Jeanne Mance, Marguerite de Bourgeoys, and others who labored in the cause of degraded humanity. With such names inscribed upon her banner, we may well forgive her such as the infamous Angelique de Pean and forget the madness that came upon her when Bigot lorded it in Quebec and virtue and honor were looked upon by most of the women of that city as encumbrances to pleasure or ambition. To-day her women worthily sustain the standard which has been left them as a legacy by their noble sisters of the past; so Canada may well be content in this wise, even though she has furnished no leaders in the march of present-day womanhood toward its desired goal.
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 thePennsylvania Packetunder 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 calledA 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 calledVictoria, 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, thoughVictoriawas the first American novel in point of time. Mrs. Rowson returned to this country immediately after the publication ofCharlotte 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 ofone or two friendsis 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 hercoiffureare 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 leaveeverythingto 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.