MRS. LUCINDA MALTBY
wife of Gen. Isaac Maltby
OBITUARY
(CFH-G+)
Died at Buffalo, N.Y., on June 9th, 1844, aged 73 years, relict of Gen. Isaac Maltby, who, in 1818, emigrated from Hatfield, Mass., to Waterloo, N.Y., where he died in the following year.
It may be wondered at that a life so quiet and unobstrusive as Mrs. Maltby’s should find more than the common brief record of its close, and, especially, that it should call public attention in a part of the country where she was never much known and from which she had been absent so many years. She had no ambition for posthumous renown. By none would it have been less expected than by her who was not emulous of distinction while among the living. She was too earnestly bent on duty to care much for fame. Her desire was to find favor in the sight of God; and, surely, if in his sight “a meek and quiet spirit is of great price,” hers is among the richest treasures gathered from the dust of the world.
Mrs. Maltby was the daughter and, we believe, the only child of Col. Seth Murray, of Hatfield, and was bred in the most intelligent, refined and virtuous society with which her nature town and its vicinity were favored. But she reckoned not quality by descent nor searched for her virtues in the family record. She was a “lady” in the most honorable meaning of that misunderstood word—in those accomplishments which are of far more difficult attainment and of unspeakable more worth than all the affluence of fortune set off with the skill of politeness and the costly array of fashion. Not negligent of the proprieties of outward appearance and demeanor, the grace she most studied and was most adorned by, was of the hidden person of the heart. Good sense and great virtue were the worthy elements which made up her character—elements few as those of the air we breathe, and, like them, forming the transparent vital sustenance of being. Simplicity and godly sincerity a stranger would at once read in her countenance, and an acquaintance always admire in her life. Her benevolence was a matter of deep principle and active habit. It was not with her, as with too many, visible only in the sunshine and on the tranquil sea of life, but, like the humble yet sacred bird of the mariner, most sure to appear in the darkness and peril of the storm. The faults of others she had no willingness to search out, and therefore no special gift to find or to suspect; and, if their obvious presence could not escape her notice, she was more ready to pity and forgive than to inflict censure, however much deserved. The performance of her duties was a concern of every day and of all their hours. She was not of those who lived abroad, and run to and fro after piety. Her own house was her home, and her religion burned bright and cheerful at her own fireside. Neither was her welfare mainly sought in schemes and efforts for securing distant or imagined good, but her happiness was never nearer being complete than in promoting the joy of those around her. Nevertheless, the law of kindness in her heart was exceeding broad, and, while it shed a blessed influence on her own family and neighborhood, it spread over the largest circle of human need. The rites of hospitality she performed as if she were her own guest, except as she never seemed quite so happy as in blessing others, whether kindred or strangers. Her piety was of the quick conscience rather than of the nimble tongue and of a simple rather than of subtle faith. Equally remote from the exclusiveness of bigotry and the blindness of indiscriminate charity, she thought well of all whose lives exhibited the principles of her blessed Lord and Redeemer. She did not exact from others duties which she was backward to perform herself; but as a sife and mother, as a friend and neighbor, as a disciple and a professed follower of Christ, she was a pattern whom all in these relations might profitably imitate.
Of her own goodness she was neither boastful nor seemed conscious, and well could her lips afford to be silent when her life was so constant a repetition of praise. But with all of her excellent qualities, she was humble for defects not discerned by others, and prayerful for forgiveness of sins and for grace that in nothing she might offend. If meekness and gentleness, if undissembled good will, if not to be weary in well doing, if patience in tribulation, if communion with God, if an humble but cheerful hope in her Redeemer are evidence of Christian character and of a title to the Christian’s reward, her inheritance is now with the saints in light.
Blessed spirit! Thou hast indeed entered into thy rest. Thou hast forsaken the cares, the sorrows, and all the infirmities of this sinful and troublous world. They shall never again approach thee, for thou hast ascended to heaven and put on immortality! Thy bright example is yet with us. Happy shall they be who have the wisdom to imitate it. The glory which thou hast shall be theirs also.
Reader, she who is the subject of this heartfelt tribute was to you personally unknown, and, perhaps, the present is the first time you have learned even that she lived. But, if to such virtues as adorned her live yours is not a stranger, this imperfect memorial will not be deemed unworthy of your regard. You will understand that the record of true goodness, wherever and whenever it has lived, though not even the name of its possessor were written, is grateful in every tongue of every clime.
(Signed) G. A.
Worcester, Mass., July 2d, 1844.