Memoir of Mary L. Ware, Wife of Henry Ware, Jr.

by Edward B. Hall

"Saturday Evening, January 17, 1835.

"My dear Friend:—

"I have such a poor faculty at expressing myself in speech, that I never feel that I have quite done myself justice in any delicate matter, when I have used only oral means. I have felt this peculiarly since I left you this afternoon, because some expressions of mine have recurred to my mind's ear, which I thought might possibly be construed by you into a very different meaning from their intended one. I do not, as you know, like to trouble my friends with the discussions of questions merely personal, and which I ought to be able to decide for myself unaided; and the whole subject of dress seems, at a first glance, so trifling, that most people would laugh at my having a serious thought about it. But to me, the least thing which can have an influence upon the character of my children becomes in my eyes a matter of deep importance; and for this reason I have really longed to enter upon this said subject with some one who could look at it in the same light, or who could disabuse me of my anxiety about it, if it was a foolish one. Accident has opened the door to your ear, and if you can have patience with me, and I can find words to tell you what I mean, I may some time or other try your friendship in this way.

"To go back a little. When we went to Europe, you may know it was the liberality of our friends, and the goodwill of the Corporation, which enabled us to undertake the expense of so long a tour. We calculated very well for such novices, but could not anticipate the great additional draft which a child's birth and the journey home would make upon our resources. Consequently we returned in debt. This debt we had hoped to liquidate by living within our salary, and thus laying by a little every year. Four years' experiment has proved this hope fallacious. Every year has brought with it some occasion of great extra expense, which has taken up what might otherwise have been laid by for this purpose. We have had, you know, a great deal of sickness, and there have been other contingencies which it is not necessary to enumerate. These may not occur again, but past experience proves that we have no right to calculate upon such exemptions; and it becomes, therefore, more than ever necessary that we economize in the strictest manner, to do all we can to free ourselves from this burden, and to do justice to others. Our children, of course, are acquainted with this state of affairs, and it is right that they should do their part, and from right motives. They know, as we do, that there are many expenses of daily occurrence in which there cannot be any retrenchment consistent with our obligations to our friends and the situation we hold in society,—such as the calls of hospitality and charity. But they ought to feel that all personal sacrifices are to be made that can be, according to a standard of propriety which a high moral sense would dictate. This, of course, must be in some measure an arbitrary standard, to be settled as much by experiment and example as by reasoning. I have therefore had but few rules upon the subject, leaving to each occasion which brings up the question all argumentation, taking care to have as little discussion as may be possible, lest it become in any way the subject of too much thought. This is particularly to be avoided with regard to dress, and upon this I have been more puzzled than on any other branch, as both our elder children are just of an age to require very 'judgmatical' treatment upon it. My rule for myself is, as I told you, to do without every thing which I can decently, making my own ideas of decency, not others', the standard. It is a difficult matter, especially as I make no pretensions to good taste, or good faculty, about externals; but this, I maintain, does not alter the question of duty....

"I feel that I am trying your patience with much ado about a small thing. But it is my weak side to wish to be thoroughly understood by my friends, weak points and all; and it helps me to understand myself, thus to try to make others understand me. I have not a word of complaint to make. We are far better provided for than is necessary to our happiness. We could live upon our income and grow rich, were our wishes only our rule; but as we are situated, it is not easy to make 'all ends meet,' as the phrase is; and as our five children grow every day older, it becomes more and more difficult every year. Can you teach me to economize? I fear, however, that if you could, you could not insure me strength to carry your plan into execution. No one who has not experienced it can tell how great a drawback sickness is to all saving, especially when it comes upon the head of the house, and when it requires the most expensive kinds of remedy. But enough of all this. I wish you would tell me if you do not think I am right in declining your offer. I am always doubtful enough about my own judgment, to be open to conviction from those who differ.

"Yours in all love.
"M. L. Ware."

The years 1834 and 1835 are spoken of by Mr. and Mrs. Ware as peculiarly favored, having little sickness or severe trial, compared with other years. But this must have been only a comparative view; for we find several incidental allusions to a state of feebleness and inability, which most of us would consider quite enough either for discipline or release from labor. Very pleasantly, however, does Mrs. Ware speak of those interruptions and prostrations, as if they were the ordinary condition. To Emma she writes: "Could you have alighted upon us at any time within the last fortnight, you would have found yourself at home. Nearly all last week Mr. Ware and myself enjoyed a most social tête-à-tête upon the two beds which occupy my chamber, neither of us capable of reading to the other, nor, a great part of the time, of speaking; I ill from the effects of the cramp, he from the fatigue of taking care of me with it. From this state we were compelled to rouse ourselves, by having one domestic taken sick, and Nanny —— All the rest you know." This was said in 1834. In the autumn of that year a daughter was born; and for a time Mrs. Ware was so helpless, that she yielded more than was her wont to feelings of discouragement. "I did try to be hopeful; but the idea of so long a period of uselessness, and its consequent evils to my children and family, was dreadful to me; and I could not quite feel that I could receive it as patiently as I ought." But severely does she chide herself for this distrust, especially as the result was so much better than her fears. She regained her health, and soon enjoyed a greater sense of strength and energy than she had had since her marriage. And this period of exemption—though not very long as regarded the health of all the household—was one of the seasons in which she strove to make amends for lost time, and accomplished a vast deal. Not that there was any remarkable, visible product. She never labored for one object exclusively, in doors or out, and it would not be easy to point to definite results. It may be doubted if she ever thought much of results, or expected, or even desired, to see them in any sure and signal form. To do "all she could" was her only ambition; and she had the wisdom which is worth more than any other,—to be content with doing all she could, only taking care that that word "all" should take in something more than the thought of earth, or self. She did not forget that objects and interests have a relative, as well as positive importance; and probably all who knew her well have marked this as a characteristic trait,—that she studied the exact proportion of the different claims upon her time, and was more anxious to do justly than to do all things.

In our times, and in a position like Mr. Ware's, there were sure to be numerous calls and claims abroad as well as at home, and for a woman not less than a man. We have not inquired as to the names or number of the benevolent societies and industrial enterprises in Cambridge, in which Mrs. Ware took part. That she gained any notoriety in this way, we should be surprised to hear, both from her multiplicity of duties, and her preference of private to public activity. Yet that her influence was felt, her judgment peculiarly relied upon, and her presence always welcomed, in these connections, we know. Cases of moral want and exposure interested her most, and we have reason to think that she was never without some such case on her hands or in her heart. What she could not do herself, in the gift of time or clothes or money, she always induced others to do, never suffering an object of actual want or peril to go unassisted. Very far was she above the poor apology, that to do any thing for one sufferer will create more. In a multitude of small notes given us, written by her to various neighbors and friends, we chanced to see in one, so small as at first to be overlooked, a few words that fixed attention; and on reading it through, we found, in the compass of a few lines, a whole volume of illustration as to her interest, her courage, and her power of indignation for selfish excuses. We give it just as it was written to a neighbor, another right-minded woman.

"I have company, therefore cannot answer you at length, or as I wish. I should have stepped in to see you this afternoon, if I had not been prevented by callers, to say a few words upon the subject of the latter part of your note. I have to-day got at the poor man's wardrobe for the first time, and determined to beg for some means to supply it with a few decencies, for even they are wanting. Mr. Ware has thought it quite allowable to state the case to one or two of our rich men, to raise enough to pay the expenses of his journey; and I have just resolved to undertake the other matter. But I am full of wrathful indignation at being sneered at for taking him in. 'You will have enough English beggars at your door, if you do so.' A good argument against relieving any distress! So let the poor suffer as much as they may,—no relief,—for others will be idle and want relief too!—M. L. W."

In another brief note, we saw a statement of Mrs. Ware, to the effect that for many years she had not been without some "case of intemperance on hand"; and a little inquiry tells us that it refers to her habit of helping the reformed and the struggling to get an honest living. A "Ladies' Aid Society" had been formed in Cambridge, with that special object; and its President, being obliged to leave home, asked Mrs. Ware to look after her "patients," when she found that Mary had long been doing privately, and by herself, what they were doing as a society.

It may seem the language of enthusiastic friendship, and our readers will deduct what they please on that account, but we must give a passage from a recent letter, written by one of the many theological students who had free access to Mr. Ware's house and family. In reference to Mrs. Ware, he writes: "I have often quoted her example since to those who make the cares of housekeeping an excuse for the neglect of all public offices. She seemed to keep house better than any body else, to exercise a larger and freer hospitality, to make her tea-table a pleasant resort, to provide more simply and at the same time more attractively, while, after all, her domestic cares were only an incident in her daily duties. She seemed to have time for every great out-door or general interest, and to be full of schemes of benevolence and kindness. And it was the easy, natural way in which she performed these double functions that gave me such a sense of her power."

In regard to intercourse with general society and festive gatherings, Mary Ware was often drawn to them, not less by a social, genial temper than by a sense of duty. A duty even there she recognized and regarded; a duty secondary, certainly, to many others, but involving obligation when other duties came not in the way. She believed that society had claims as well as the family, and pure enjoyment as well as religion. Her social sympathies were always calm, but never cold; subdued, but ardent, and ever ready both to taste and impart pleasure. Her interest in children was a passion, and her love of seeing and promoting their enjoyment as intense as any we have known. She could ill brook any restraint put upon the freedom and joyousness of the young, beyond the point of propriety or others' comfort. Her own convenience, her rooms, her whole house, she would give up, adding her powers of entertainment and enjoyment, rather than make life cheerless or religion repulsive. Many scenes can we recall of childish glee and hearty frolic, presided over, shared, and promoted by both the heads of that house, with which are associated some of the happiest hours of life, and the best. We will always thank God that those two hearts, which He was pleased to chasten with many sicknesses and sorrows, were as genial and joyous as they were pure and humble.

There was one form of social entertainment—if it deserve the name—with which Mrs. Ware had no sympathy, and for which she had little charity. Indeed, that "indignation" which we have seen enkindled by selfishness, though not easily roused, could not always restrain itself in the hearing of small gossip or busy scandal. We said in the introduction to this Memoir, that not a single line or word allied to those petty vices have we found in the whole extent of her correspondence, sober or trivial. We are sure the same might be said of her conversation. Nor was this negative only. There was a tone of decided displeasure, and, if necessary, pointed reproof, called forth at times by the spiteful or thoughtless scandal-monger. She would not allow that we have a right to be thoughtless; nor did she believe that we were sent into the world to scan a neighbor's conduct or impugn another's motives. In a letter written at Cambridge to a friend whom she had been to meet in Boston, but with whom her enjoyment had been greatly interrupted, she thus expresses herself.

"It is only tantalizing to meet in Boston, to fritter away the few moments of intercourse which we want for better purposes in the idle, profitless gossip of city life. Is it because I have so little interest in other people, or is it for a better reason, that I have no patience with hearing people descant upon the whys and wherefores of their neighbors' concerns; discussing their actions with as decided judgment upon their merits, as if the secret springs of thought, and all the various causes which led to them, were as fully developed to us as they can be to the Omniscient only? I know we may learn much from others' experience, both in warning and example; and to do this, we must closely observe them, and follow or vary from their course as our own conscience and judgment may dictate. But surely it is not necessary that we should be all the time speculating and gossiping with each other, upon every portion of the lives of our neighbors, or such portions as cannot from their very nature be of any importance to us in any way. Is it just to our minds so to employ them? Is it Christian charity towards others? I may see clearly my neighbor's faults, and if there be any chance of doing him good by it, I may speak of them to him freely. I may consult a friend, who I know will treat the subject with the same tender feeling that I have myself, upon all the views which could result in good to the guilty or ourselves. But to talk publicly to any and all about the matter, for no possible result but the getting rid of so much time, fostering contempt on the one hand and self-conceit on the other, seems to me the wickedest abuse of the high privilege of speech that I know of, next to absolute falsehood. And how often does this habit lead to falsehood, and all manner of injustice!... But enough. Perhaps I am too much of a recluse to judge justly of the temptations of city life, and am committing the very sin which I am condemning. Suffice it to say, that thus was my whole comfort in town destroyed, and I came home feeling that, so far as regarded our knowledge of each other's inner woman, we might as well not have met."