Women of America Part 9

"She was remarkable for vigor of intellect, strength of resolution, and inflexible firmness wherever principle was concerned. Devoted to the education of her children, her parental government and guidance have been described by those who knew her as admirably adapted to train the youthful mind to wisdom and virtue. With her, affection was regulated by a calm and just judgment. She was distinguished, moreover, by that well marked quality of genius, a power of acquiring and maintaining influence over those with whom she a.s.sociated. Without inquiring into the philosophy of this mysterious ascendancy, she was content to employ it for the n.o.blest ends. It contributed, no doubt, to deepen the effect of her instructions."

This is critical rather than enthusiastic praise, and therefore the more worthy to be trusted. Nor are all Mrs. Washington's virtues here set down. She was a woman of exemplary piety of the good old quietist school; she was religious without being theological. She was a notable housewife and manager, and she earned the fine old t.i.tle of "lady" by being indeed an almsgiver, though her lack of wealth limited her power in this respect. Her already quoted biographer, in her somewhat stilted but earnest language, says: "Her charity to the poor was well known; and having not wealth to distribute, it was necessary that what her benevolence dispensed should be supplied by domestic economy and industry. How peculiar a grace," adds our biographer, with well modulated enthusiasm, "does this impart to the benefits flowing from a sympathizing heart!"

La Fayette said of Madam Washington that she belonged to the times of Sparta and ancient Rome rather than to those of his own day; and Mrs.

Sigourney, whose fame as a poet has now failed, but who once was held in high esteem, thus wrote on the occasion of laying the cornerstone for the monument erected at Fredericksburg:

"Methinks we see thee, as in olden times, Simple in garb, majestic and serene, Unawed by 'pomp and circ.u.mstance' in truth Inflexible and with a Spartan zeal Repressing vice and making folly grave.

Thou didst not deem it woman's part to waste Life in inglorious sloth, to sport awhile Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave, Then fleet like the ephemeron away, Building no temple in her children's hearts, Save to the vanity and pride of life Which she had worshipped."

Better sentiment than poetry, perhaps; but serving to show concerning Mary Washington the thought of a day nearer to her, and therefore truer in judgment than our own.

Withal, Madam Washington was a woman of the most perfect simplicity of bearing and of character. When her ill.u.s.trious son returned to her after leading the armies of his country to their final victory, she talked with him of his perils and privations, of old friends, of her home and affairs; but said no word of the glory which he had won. To her he was still her son, and not the great general or even the beloved patriot. At the ball given that night in his honor she appeared "arrayed in the very plain, yet becoming garb worn by the Virginia lady of the olden time.

Her address, always dignified and imposing, was courteous, though reserved. She received the complimentary attentions which were profusely paid her, without evincing the slightest elevation; and at an early hour, wishing the company much enjoyment of their pleasures, and observing that it was time for old people to be at home, retired, leaning, as before, on the arm of her son."

When La Fayette, exuberant Frenchman that he was, in her presence eulogized to the skies the prowess and deeds of his chief, the mother of that chief replied, with a simplicity admirably contrasting with the high-flown encomiums of the marquis: "I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a very good boy." Goodness and greatness were undisseverable in her mind. She was the Madame Mere of this country in station and the gift of a hero to the world; but greater contrast than that existing between the two women in all other respects--save perhaps in strength of will and purpose--could hardly be conceived; and the world will surely always accord the palm for true greatness to Madam Washington rather than to the mother of Napoleon.

It was in character and gift to the nation only, and not in incident, that the life of Madam Washington deserves chronicle; and others now demand notice in this chapter. Though the wife of Washington will be spoken of in an ensuing chapter, as being the first of the "first ladies of the land," mention must not be omitted of one whose very existence has been well-nigh forgotten--the sister of Washington. Of her, it is true, there is little to be gathered; but we are told that "she was a most majestic woman, and so strikingly like the brother that it was a matter of frolic to throw a cloak around her and place a military hat upon her head; and such was the perfect resemblance that had she appeared on her brother's steed, battalions would have presented arms and senates risen to do homage to the chief." Further she was not noted, and she lived her life in quiet, hardly coming within the radiance cast around by the deeds done by her ill.u.s.trious brother. Only for his sake does she deserve notice here.

Hardly to that brother did the country owe greater debt than to the women whom it had nurtured. Patriotic as were the majority of American men, ready to suffer as well as to die in the cause of country, they were less patriotic, and their endurance was less splendid, than that shown by the women of our land. The patriotism evinced itself in many different ways; sometimes in mere sallies of wit, as with the famous Miss Franks, the daughter of a Jewish merchant. Rebecca Franks was celebrated for her wit and accomplishments. She was a loyalist at heart, and afterward married Sir Henry Johnson, an English general; but her keen jests at the expense of the British did not impress them with her devotion to their cause. When, at a ball in New York, Sir Henry Clinton, then holding on with rapidly relaxing grasp to English dominance in America, called to the musicians to play _Britons, strike home!_ Miss Franks remarked that what he should have said was "Britons, go home!"

Other ironies are credited to her; but none, probably, having such keen point as the repartee of a South Carolina maiden, in whose presence Colonel Tarleton spoke sneeringly of Colonel Washington and wished he "could see this paragon!" "Had you looked behind you at the battle of the Cowpens, Colonel Tarleton," replied the young lady, "you would have had that pleasure!" Whereat the hard-fighting dragoon, who on that day had run harder than he had fought, was much discomfited.

This was the spirit of the American patriot woman; but it often evinced itself in ways more serviceable to the cause of freedom. When Washington was encamped at White Marsh a surprise was planned against him; and it would undoubtedly have proved exceedingly disastrous had not the plan been overheard by Lydia Darrah, who lived in the house on Second Street, Philadelphia, opposite the mansion occupied by General Howe, where the plan was discussed, the family being supposed to be in bed. Lydia returned to her room after her espionage and had the nerve to remain quiet, as if asleep, when one of the officers knocked on her door to inform her that the conclave was over. Then, with quick ingenuity, she told her husband, a loyalist, that there was need of flour and that she must go to Frankford to procure it; and, having on this pretext secured egress from the British lines, she hastened to White Marsh. On her way she met Colonel Craig, of the light horse, and to him confided her secret; then, with lightened heart, she hastened back and managed to return unsuspected. The surprise consequently failed; but the part played by the demure little Quakeress was never guessed, though the British knew that some one had betrayed their plan to the American general. Had they suspected, it must have gone hard with Lydia; but she escaped the consequences of her brave act, which might have been death, while her country reaped the benefits thereof.

Not so marked by the evidence of personal courage, yet splendid in its patriotic self-sacrifice, was the spirit shown by Rebecca Motte when her house was occupied by the British soldiery under McPherson and besieged by Marion and Lee. McPherson's position was apparently impregnable; and he was holding out in antic.i.p.ation of the coming of Lord Rawdon with a large force. Mrs. Motte was a firm friend of the American cause and had often bestowed generous hospitality upon the American officers, including Lee himself. To burn the house seemed to be the sole means of dislodging McPherson; but how could the friends of liberty destroy the property of one so devoted to the cause as Mrs. Motte, a widow, and one who had often nursed back to life some stricken Continental soldier? But Mrs. Motte overheard the discussion, and she a.s.sured the leaders that she "was gratified with the opportunity of contributing to the good of her country and should view the approaching scene with delight."

Moreover, when the generals had reluctantly determined upon the measure, she gave them a bow and arrows, which had been imported from India, that by this means the flaming combustibles might be shot upon her roof. The plan was carried out and McPherson forced to surrender, while the house was burned to the ground. Mrs. Motte contemplated the destruction of her home with an unmoved smile, and busied herself in succoring and caring for the wounded--Tory as well as Whig, for suffering annihilates such distinctions--with a heart apparently as free from care and rejoicing in victory as if she had gained rather than lost by the day's work.

Another daughter of South Carolina, which State claimed Mrs. Motte as its own, displayed on more than one occasion qualities that fell nothing short of heroism. Martha Bratton was the wife of a revolutionary colonel, and she lived in a spot in York District that was exposed to all the storm of war that swept over the devoted State. Her husband was peculiarly obnoxious to the Tories, and Captain Huck or--Huyck, as it is spelled in the order of his commanding officer--was dispatched, after a severe defeat inflicted upon the loyal forces by troops under Colonel Bratton, to compel by force the wife to betray the husband into British hands. A soldier under Huck's command actually placed a reaping-hook at Mrs. Bratton's throat when she refused to reveal the whereabouts of her husband, and Huck did not interfere; but his second in command, with more decency, even if with a suspicion of insubordination, interposed in the lady's behalf, though not until she had looked death in the face for a time and had not recoiled. Threats were of no avail, and finally Huck abandoned his purpose as impracticable. The next day brought vengeance upon him for his brutality, for he was attacked by Colonel Bratton with a far smaller force, himself killed, and his troops utterly routed. The officer who had interfered in behalf of Mrs. Bratton was taken prisoner and might have been hanged by the enraged Whigs had not the lady fortunately recognized him in time to preserve his life by her story of debt to him. Another anecdote of Mrs. Bratton attests her heroic firmness of character. Ammunition was very scarce with both patriots and Tories, and a portion of that sent by Governor Rutledge to the former had been confided to the care of Colonel Bratton and by him placed in an outhouse on his place. News of this came to some loyalists, who at once, in the absence of Colonel Bratton, organized a foray to seize the powder. But Mrs. Bratton was warned in time, and she immediately laid a train of powder to the outhouse, took her stand at the end of the train, and when the enemy appeared set fire to the train and blew up the outhouse with its valuable contents. The officer in command of the forayers was furious at being thus outwitted and demanded to know the perpetrator of the deed. Mrs. Bratton did not flinch. "It was I who did it," she replied. "Let the consequence be what it will, I glory in having prevented the mischief contemplated by the cruel enemies of my country." One hardly knows whether the more to admire the gallant bearing of the lady or the coolness which led her to await the actual coming of the enemy and not to destroy such valuable property until the necessity for doing so became immediate.

These were but types, though p.r.o.nounced ones, of the spirit that was almost universal among the patriot women of America during those stormy and fateful days. It was to be found dominant throughout the land, from New England to the Carolinas, though of course it was more evident, and possibly more fervent, in those districts where the war actually set its foot. In feeling at least, women, when once aroused, are more intensely militant than men, as they are more patient and constant under suffering; and it was to the women quite as much as to the men that our country owed its escape from the British yoke. The display of the feeling varied in its manifestations; but that feeling was ever present in the hearts of the American women of the revolutionary times. The ladies of Boston who abandoned, in the days of oppression, their cup of tea that the abhorrent taxes might not be enforced showed the same true patriotism, only needing opportunity to call it to higher pitch, as did their sisters who bore the insults and outrages of a brutal soldiery when Tarleton rode across stricken South Carolina and planted a hatred that bore fruit in the ambush and the night attack. The women of New England bound upon the backs of husbands and sons and even fathers the old knapsack and placed in their hands the old musket and sent them forth, ready to go, yet full of fears for those left behind, to Lexington and Bunker Hill.

It must not, however, be supposed that all the enthusiasm, all the depth of feeling, all the patriotism even, was in the camp, feminine or masculine, of the Continentals. Among the Tories, or Loyalists, as they liked best to call themselves, there were many hearts which beat with true devotion to their country, yet which believed that country's best duty, because its highest, was to be found in loyalty to the king.

Especially was this the case in New York and Philadelphia, which were the strongholds of British possession. It is true that there were many, women as well as men, even more of the former, whose loyalty was but lip-service, who cherished in their hearts a devotion to the cause of freedom to which they dared not give utterance for fear of oppression; but there were also many who loved the flag of England as the banner of all that was truest and best, and who looked upon the resisters of British authority as rebels of the baser sort. They were as honest as were their opponents, and they were as fanatical; and they are ent.i.tled to the same respect for their devotion to a losing cause as are their rivals for their loyalty to one that was victorious.

In 1778 there was held in the staid city of Philadelphia a certain entertainment given by the officers of Sir William Howe to their general, which was to pa.s.s into history under the name of the Meschianza, or the Medley. It was a most gorgeous pageant, wherein were tournament and feat and dance; and to it came most of the belles of Philadelphia, forgetful of or uncaring for the army of their brethren, ragged and barefooted, and still suffering from their winter of starving amid the snows of Valley Forge. The loyalist ladies were in full feather, more literally than would now be the case, the nodding plume then adorning the head of the dame as frequently as it did the helmet of the soldier. Present are such famous toasts as Miss Becky Franks, Miss Peggy Chew, Miss Nancy White, Miss Becky Bond, and others. The Misses Shippen, equal to any in beauty and wit, do not grace the occasion by their charms; they have fully intended to be present, and have even ordered Turkish dresses for the occasion, 'since fancy costumes are _en regle_; but there has been issued a parental ukase to the contrary, Mr.

Edward Shippen at the last moment declining to allow his daughters to make merry with the foes of his country, or it may be that the appearance of the Turkish dresses in the eyes of his Quaker neighbors has influenced his decision, for Mr. Shippen is not a patriot. But there are enough without these ladies, and the merriment is unalloyed. It is a typical scene, this of the Meschianza, even though never before has the revel been of such ornate character; for the belles of New York and Philadelphia and the macaronis of the army often forget the perils of war in the delights of the social function, unmindful of the waxing or waning of the patriot or the royal cause.

Of those present at the Meschianza there was one whose romance merits note in these pages, Miss Peggy Chew. Among the officers who on that day and night tilted and danced with the best was one Major John Andre, and his motto of "No Rival" was carried out at least in his connection with Miss Chew. That they were betrothed was the general belief; that they were lovers may be set down as certain. But a little more than two years later Major Andre, technically if not actually guilty of being a spy, was led beneath the fatal tree at Tappan, and poor Peggy Chew's romance was over forever. If we could leave her in her sorrow to weep for her lover and the overthrown cause of her king, she might pa.s.s down as one of the ideal heroines of sad romance; but fact somewhat hampers our sympathy with the lady, for some seven years after the death of Andre, Miss Chew married General John Eager Howard, the staunch fighter of the Cowpens; and the general, as was but natural, always denied, even with strange oaths, that his wife had ever cared for one who to him was but a common spy.

So the belle of the Meschianza changed her political faith with her love loyalty; but another who has been named in connection with that entertainment shamed many a woman in faith of another kind. With her sisters, Miss Peggy Shippen had been held from the revel; but she had been toasted there. Yet she became, but a short time afterward, the wife of one of the most gallant soldiers that ever drew sword for the cause of America, Benedict Arnold. Had he been as true as he was brave he might have left an honored name; and, even as it was, though history has not yet done justice in this wise, Arnold's bitter resentment toward the ungrateful Continental Congress was not without reason and excuse; nevertheless, his action resulting therefrom was unpardonable. In his treason, as was but natural, his splendid services were forgotten by his countrymen; but his wife was true to him in his degradation as in his glory. In an interview with Washington at West Point she even went so far as to accuse the commander-in-chief of conspiring to murder her infant as well as to degrade her husband; and we can forgive, as did Washington, even this to the tortured woman. During his residence in England after the Revolution, Arnold said to an Englishman who had met him casually and, being unaware of his personality, knowing only his nationality, asked him for some letters of introduction to be used in a purposed trip to America: "Sir, I am the only American in the world whose introduction would do you more harm than good; I am Benedict Arnold." There was here more than the bitterness of ostracism; but that bitterness, which made all his life a torment, never repelled his wife or caused her faith and love to swerve. She was loyal with even a higher loyalty than that given by her sisters of America to the cause of her country, for she was faithful in heart as in deed to one who had in all ways proved unworthy of faith.

It was this same Arnold who was mentioned in the diary of another belle of Philadelphia, Miss Sally Wister, when she wrote: "Our brave, our heroic General Washington was escorted by fifty of the Life Guard, with drawn swords. Each day he acquires an addition to his goodness. We have been very anxious to know how the inhabitants of Philadelphia have fared. I understand that General Arnold, who bears a good character, has the command of the city." She was writing from the Foulks estate, in Montgomery County, where she was staying for a time, and her diary, which concludes with the above quoted entry, is full of such warm expressions of patriotism that none can doubt that Miss Sally, who died a spinster, placed the cause of America even before the attractions of such men as Major Stoddert and Captain Dandridge, who vainly attempted to influence her to "change her condition," as the quaint old phrase puts it.

The days of the Revolution were full of romance as well as of sterner history, and while the women of Ma.s.sachusetts and the Carolinas, as well as those of interior Pennsylvania and rural New York, proved themselves made of sterner stuff than is the custom to expect from their s.e.x, the belles of the great cities--great only for their times--of New York and Philadelphia flirted and danced and jested and made themselves in all ways agreeable to the red-clad soldiers of England. It may be that these last ladies unwittingly and against their will served the cause of their country by enervating the soldiers of the king and keeping them from the sterner training which was making hardy veterans of the Continentals.

But romance and the stern aspects of war were not infrequently blended in strange fashion, as in the case of Mary Piper--better known as Polly Piper--of Boston, who was loved by a British soldier named Samuel Lee.

Before the beginning of the struggle the Pipers moved to Concord; and when the "regulars" marched upon that place to secure the ammunition which was reported to General Gage as being stored there, Lee went with his regiment. But his heart was not in his work: love had taught him something, and he no longer, as at first, looked upon all Americans as benighted savages and their cause as flat treason. Miss Polly had scorned his suit as that of a British soldier, and this fact had worked a result. In the "running fight" at Concord he did not fire his musket; but he was shot as he ran from the field and was carried, severely wounded, into a house where the stricken were being cared for. A woman bent over him; and he opened his eyes to meet those of Polly Piper. He recovered, but not to serve again as a soldier of England; he returned no more to the red flag, but married Miss Polly and lived quietly in Concord until his death in 1790. Thus love won from the enemies of America at least one sword, and thus was romance justified of its works.

The patriotic spirit which flamed throughout the land burned with no steadier or more brilliant glow than among the women. All are familiar with the famous picture ent.i.tled _The Spirit of '76_; but that picture is incomplete. The octogenarian and the boy should be waved upon their march by the wife and the mother, sending husband and son forth to peril or death, while they themselves turn with a smile to the bearing of privation or actual starvation. Not more strongly and n.o.bly did the "spirit of '76" flourish in the hearts of the sons of the oppressed country than in those of its daughters, nor was the response more splendid.

There was no distinction of high and low. The stately dame, lapped in luxury all her days and a stranger to hardship or even anxiety, gave up to her country's cause her dearest joys, and not only sent husband or son to the forefront of the battle, but herself, if she was in the path of war, bore unflinchingly the outrages of an incensed soldiery and saw her home given to the flames and the very lives of herself and her children threatened, and yet thought it not too great a price to pay for her country's liberty. The wife of the humble tiller of the soil, with perhaps even more complete, though hardly as recognized, surrender of self, sent forth with cheery words the breadwinner, the support of herself and her children, and turned with grand courage to keep them and herself from hunger, while her goodman was fighting for the rescue of his native land from oppression. Each bore her part, and all with no reserve of gift.

The ebullition of the feminine spirit of those days was often little less than fanatical in nature. Women do nothing by halves; they are faithful lovers and enthusiastic haters, and they are not always governed in either feeling by the monitions of unbiased justice or even judgment. In a letter from Mrs. Hannah Winthrop, of Cambridge, we find a reference to the fight at Lexington, which, in all its stiltedness of language, shows the fiery and bitter hatred that was held by patriot women for the enemies of their country: "Nor can she ever forget, nor will old Time ever erase, the horrors of that midnight cry, preceding the b.l.o.o.d.y ma.s.sacre at Lexington, when we were roused from the benign slumbers of the season by beat of drum and ringing of bells, with the dire alarm that a thousand of the troops of George the Third had gone forth to murder the peaceful inhabitants of the surrounding villages. A few hours, with the dawning day, convinced us the b.l.o.o.d.y purpose was executing; the platoon firing a.s.sured us that the rising sun must witness the b.l.o.o.d.y carnage. Not knowing what the event would be at Cambridge, at the return of these b.l.o.o.d.y ruffians, and seeing another brigade dispatched to the a.s.sistance of the former, looking with the ferocity of barbarians, it seemed necessary to retire to some place of safety, till the calamity was pa.s.sed."

The lady is evidently overfond of a certain epithet of sanguinary denotation, nor can she be complimented upon her high-flown style; but it is evident that behind the affectation of phrase there is an intense earnestness of hatred that stands as typical of its s.e.xual source. To the patriot women of America the British were "ruffians" and "barbarians" and the most b.l.o.o.d.y-minded of human beings just as to the Loyalists the Continentals were "rebels" and "traitors," for whom hanging would have been a punishment so mild as to suggest weakness in the administrator. To the patriot woman poor old George III. was the very incarnation of all evil and malice, just as to the Tory lady another George was the vilest of ingrates to lead the armies of the rebels against the authority of so gracious a king as he of England.

Both were honest in their extremes of fanaticism and so may well be pardoned, and even admired, for those extremes, with their resultant enthusiasm in the cause of freedom or loyalty.

Meanwhile there existed, though hardly flourished, the gentler arts among the women of America; and Mercy Warren, wife of James Warren and daughter of James Otis, she to whom Mrs. Winthrop's letter was addressed, wielded a more refined and therefore more effective pen than that of her friend, being the one female writer of her day who may be called notable. She was hardly less enthusiastic than Mrs. Winthrop in the cause of liberty, and she was possessed of a very respectable gift of satire which made her writings a power in their way. When there was discussed among the colonists the plan of suspending all commerce with Great Britain because of the vexed matter of the taxes, Mrs. Warren wrote a long poetic effusion which exemplifies her gift of satire, of which the best lines are these:

"'Tis true, we love the courtly mien and air, The pride of dress, and all the debonair: Yet Clara quits the more dressed neglige, And subst.i.tutes the careless polance; 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 cla.s.sical 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 inst.i.tution is founded, abolish your order, and build up a monarchy on the ruins of the happy inst.i.tution."

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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed at length, leaving the country maimed, bleeding, but still l.u.s.ty with vigor and with the waxing strength of youth. The pa.s.sing of the shadow found the women of America for the most part shorn of the gauds that women love, dest.i.tute 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 a.s.serted themselves and the power of their womanhood as never before. They had turned from the sporadic and eccentric attempts of some of their s.e.x 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 ent.i.ty.

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 pa.s.sed 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 pet.i.tions 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.

CHAPTER VIII

THE WOMEN OF CANADA

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 in _igloos_, or ice huts, during the summer in skin tents called _tupies_, 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 to _shay-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 coa.r.s.e 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 bra.s.s.

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 the _keeloun_, 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, "b.u.t.terfly," an infant of about a year old, and poor little Tookoolito was inconsolable; she longed to die, that she might find again her lost "b.u.t.terfly," and she tended the little grave, made in the burial ground at Groton, Connecticut, with the tenderest care, placing thereon, according to the Innuit superst.i.tion, 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 p.r.o.nounced 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.