For the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE MOTHER OF WASHINGTON.
Amid the untiring efforts of the present age, to elevate the standard of female education, it is possible that the excellencies of a more ancient system, may be too much disregarded. In our zeal for reformation, we are in danger of discarding, or pronouncing obsolete, some requisitions of salutary tendency. The wider range both of intellect and accomplishment, which is now prescribed, seems to exclude some of those practical and homebred virtues, on which the true influence of woman depends.
There was a fine mixture of energy and dignity, in the character of females, of the higher ranks in our olden time. We of modern days, to whom languor and luxury are dear, allege that it was carried too far. We complain that it involved reserve and sternness. Perhaps, we are not sensible that we verge so palpably to the other extreme, as to retain in our style of manners scarcely the shadow of that power by which folly is checked and frivolity silenced.
The mother of Washington, has been pronounced a model of the true dignity of woman. She seemed to combine the Spartan simplicity and firmness, with the lofty characteristics of a Roman matron. With a heart of deep and purified affections, she blended that majesty which commanded the reverence of all. At the head of a large household, whose charge, by the death of her husband, devolved solely on her, the energy of her tireless superintendence preserved subordination and harmony. The undeviating integrity and unshaken self-command of her illustrious son, were developements of her own elements of character,—fruits from those germs which she planted in the soil of his infancy. To the inquiry, what course had been pursued in the early education of one, whom not only America, but the world, regarded with honor almost divine, she replied,—"his first lesson was to obey." It was her dignity of manner, courteous, yet rejecting all ostentation, and content to array itself in the "plain and becoming garb of the ancient Virginian lady,"—that elicited from those accustomed to the pomp and gorgeous costume of European courts, the high praise, that "it was no wonder that a country which produced such mothers, could boast such a man as Washington."
He therefore, who has been likened to Fabius,—to Cincinnatus, and to other heroes of antiquity, only to show how greatly he transcended them by being a christian,—he who has made the hallowed shades of Mount Vernon, as sacred to the patriot, as the shrine at Mecca, to the pilgrim,—shares his glory with her, who wrought among the rudiments of his being, with no careless or uncertain hand. The monument which now designates her last repose,—which her native clime should have hasted to erect,—but which private munificence exulted to rear,—speaks strongly and eloquently to her sex. It bids them impress the character of true greatness upon the next generation. It warns them to prepare by unslumbering effort, for this tremendous responsibility. It reminds them that in their appointed ministration, they stand but "a little lower than the angels." And let her who is disposed to indulge in lassitude, or to trifle away the brief season of her probation,—or to forget that she may stamp an indelible character either for good or evil, on some immortal mind,—go and renounce her errors, and deepen her energies,—and relumine her hopes, at the tomb of the Mother of Washington.
L. H. S.