As the Early Modern period progressed, the domestic sphere as we know it, came into existence as well. Though the roles of women in society were being curbed and they were encouraged to devote all their energies to bearing and raising children, it was through developing this familial role that a "new mother" came to exist. This woman was "learned, pious, and responsible," with "increased and clear-cut responsibilities for the raising of her children as well as a clearly recognized right to self development for her own sake."¹

Despite the fact that women in general were discouraged from publishing their writings, part of the duties expected of mothers in the Renaissance included the mastery of several types of writing. As more women were taught to read and write, this literary duty was not unattainable. In some instances, women’s literacy was exploited for the fact that it could have been important in providing examples and guidance for other women. Aside from issuing works about their own heartbreak (for whatever reason) women were also expected to "contribute epitaphs and panegyrics on their friends," perhaps offer a farewell to a husband about to be widowed, and often mothers were also expected to put forth a "Mother’s Legacy," a testimonial of sorts, for their families.² At a time when up to forty-five percent of women died before reaching age fifty, more than half from complications due to pregnancy, mothers were encouraged to prepare for the possibility of death. One way to prepare was to compile these legacies--"books of advice and guidance for the children who might have to grow up motherless."³

The writings on motherhood by mothers of the early modern period tend to be highly personal, "addressed by individual women to individual children, under individual circumstances." They do however, suggest a general thought process and emotive pattern for the mothers of this time. There are often deep and intimate emotions expressed in literature on child rearing, and the source of these seems to be "the integration of natural maternal feeling with the religious and intellectual development of women advanced through the theory of the ‘new mother.’"⁴ The maternal role became increasingly important in this period, perhaps because of the conflict between the changes inherent in the development of the new mother and the feeling that wives and mothers should be confined to the new domestic sphere. "This conflict is realized by writers of tracts who wrote knowing they overstepped themselves by writing."⁵ The entrance of these women to the field of literature shows us a clear example of the new mother of the Renaissance--gaining power "in what was still a family-centered, religiously oriented time."⁶

One of the best examples of maternal writing in this period comes from Elizabeth Grymeston in her work for her only son, Bernye. Grymeston’s writing is simple and direct, and she is impressively able to use, and alter for her own purposes, quotations from several different sources. Throughout this work, we are able to see the author clearly—scholars have said that Grymeston’s tract is the "first autobiography of an Elizabethan woman’s mind."⁷ The strength of Grymeston’s writing lies, as does that of most other examples of maternal writings, in the compassionate and eloquent maternal feelings she displays. She begins very simply and poignantly:

My dearest sonne, there is nothing so strong as the force of love; there is no love so forcible as the love of an affectionate mother to hir naturall childe: there is no mother can either more affectionately shew hir nature, or more naturaly manifest hir affection, than in advising hir children out of her owne experience, to eschue evill, and encline them to do that which is good.⁸

Grymeston’s advice to her son is strong, reflecting a secure faith and a steadfast commitment to her duties as a mother. She provides good counsel on three areas of her son’s life: living well, choosing a wife, and being content at the hour of death. The following is from the first chapter, A short line how to levell your life:

Arme your selfe with that modestie that may silence that untemperate tongue, and controll that unchaste eye, that shall aime at passion. Be mindfull of things past; carefull of things present; provident of things to come. Goe as you would be met. Sit as you would be found. Speak as you would be heard: and when you go to bed, read over the carriage of your selfe that day. Reforme that is amisse; and give God thanks for that which is orderly: and so commit thy selfe to him that keepes thee.⁹

The closing of one particular epistle, especially, shows her maternal strength: "Thine assured loving mother, Elizabeth Grymeston."

Dorothy Kemp Leigh’s writing, like Gymeston’s is rooted in a "motherly solicitude."¹⁰ She writes The Mother’s Blessing to counsel her sons, whose father had died. Beginning with a dedication to Princess Elizabeth, daughter of James I, whom Leigh has named Protectresse of her book, Leigh asks that her work be blessed and safeguarded, that her sons may learn from it.¹¹ The second part is a letter to her sons, explaining the intentions behind her writing, and is signed, "Your fearefull, faithfull, and carefull Mother, D.L." This ending, coupled with the fact that Leigh felt the need to protect her writing, seems to reflect the idea that some mothers wrote, knowing that they were overstepping societal boundaries in doing so. Leigh seems much more conscious of this idea than does Grymeston, and unlike the latter, focuses more on her role as a wife who was subordinate to her husband, rather than her role as a mother who had the right to love and advise her children.

Consciousness of societal rules regarding a woman's place in marriage, motherhood, and writing is reflected in Leigh’s somewhat tentative writing style. She begins chapter two of The Mother’s Blessing, for example, with an attempt to calm her sons’ worries about her using writing to give them advice.

...know therefore that it was with affection that I bare unto you all, which made mee now (as it often hath done heretofore) forget my selfe in regard of you: neither care I what you or any shall think of me, if among many words I may write but one sentence, which may make you labour for the spiritual food of the soule...

The last two sections of Leigh’s legacy focus on teaching her sons how to model their lives, and rules for personal behavior. Her objectives for the work seem to be:

to teach her sons religion, to inspire her sons to write when they are older, and to inspire other women to be careful mothers. Indeed Mrs. Leigh was intrepid enough to write that women should not ‘be ashamed to shew their infirmities, but give men the first and chiefe place: yet let us labor to come in the second.’¹²

Although Leigh and Grymeston may share motivations for writing advice to their sons, Leigh is clearly more tentative about writing, and more concerned with how society and family may view her actions.

Joceline was raised by her grandfather, a bishop in London, after her parents had separated. For the time, she was extremely well educated—in religion, languages, art, and history. She was called "one of the most notable young women of the times of James I."¹³ She died just days after giving birth to her first child leaving behind a legacy that is probably one of the most unique of all maternal works of the period. Since the sex of the child was unknown, Joceline addressed her legacy to both a son and a daughter, and the language that she uses, shows the differing approaches in raising a son or a daughter. The ambivalence in her instructions about a daughter perhaps signify a desire on Joceline’s part, to protect the girl "from a potentially difficult and uncomfortable way of life."¹⁴ Like Grymeston and Leigh, Joceline also accepts the duty to instruct her children in religion. She reminds the child to pray, to guard against temptation, to keep the Sabbath and the golden rule, to be charitable, and even gives her child a daily schedule of religious observances.¹⁵

Joceline’s tract, The Mother's Legacie, was probably one of the most popular of its time. This popularity seems to be well deserved, mostly because Joceline’s writing is extremely genuine. She shares her feelings about the sorrow that she knows will be a part of motherhood, but she is not ashamed to tell of her joy about becoming a mother in spite of any difficulties. She writes in such an eager fashion about her hopes and plans for her family that one cannot help being saddened that this woman died before she had the chance to realize any of them. Though it may have been inadvertent, another enjoyable aspect of Joceline’s writing is that we see that her marriage was fairly happy—she is excited to have her husband’s child in particular, and it seems that the two of them worked together in planning for the birth of the child. As Joceline has written, she understands that she is able to leave written instructions for this child, some of which are directed to her husband should she herself die in childbirth. She asks him, among other things, to chose a wet nurse carefully. It is clear that Towrell Joceline cared for his wife as well, for he added a preface to The Mothers Legacie prior to publication, praising her saintliness and learning.¹⁶

The opening of The Mother's Legacie clearly shows Joceline’s happiness about being a mother:

Joceline continues, offering religious advice to her child—who throughout the beginning may be assumed to be a son. She encourages him to pursue a holy life, to be "so truly an humble and zealous Minister…," and hopes that he would have all the correct motivations for seeking all that is good from God. She is concerned as well that he remain charitable, receiving what God bestows upon him, but also being "a careful steward, distributing it to those that have need."¹⁸

After giving this Godly advice to a son, Joceline begins to reassure the child, if it happens to be a daughter, that she is not neglecting it through a concern about Godliness:

In her "Epistle" Joceline talks more about her feelings about raising a daughter, giving her husband the following direction:

I desire her bringing up may bee learning the Bible, as my sisters doe, good housewifery, writing, and good works: other learning a woman needs not; though I admire it in those whom God hath blest with descretion, yet I desired not much in my owne, having seene that sometines women have greater portions of learning than wisdome, which is of no better use to them than a main saile to a flye-boat, which runs it under water. But where learning and wisdom meet in a vertuous disposed woman she is the fittest closet for all goodnesse. She is like a well-balanced ship that may beare all her saile. She is, Indeed, I should but shame my selfe, if I should goe about to praise her more...Yet I leave it to thy will...If thou desirest a learned daughter, I pray God give her a wise and religious heart, that she may use it to his glory, thy comfort, and her own salvation.²⁰ It is slightly discouraging to see the differences in Joceline's concerns for a son versus those for a daughter. Although her writing is strong here, it is clear that she wants to raise a daughter who is exactly as society expects her to be--not too intelligent, but virtuous, with "a wise and religious heart." Perhaps the ideas in this epistle reflect Joceline's earlier concern about raising a daughter. However, based on the strength of her writing, it is surprising to see Joceline this disparaging about the possibilities, or lack of them, in raising a little girl.

Elizabeth Gyrmeston, Dorothy Leigh, and Elizabeth Joceline demonstrate a fine overview of mothers’ writings to their children during this period. They seem to represent the class of women that most of the conduct literature was meant for—the only title these women held was "Mrs." Grymeston’s writing shows a secure faith and a very concerned and compassionate interest in her son’s life. She has a strong writing style and is generous in expressing her love for her son, regardless of what society might think of a woman being so open about her emotions for her children. Leigh, on the other hand, is very conscious that she is overstepping her bounds in writing as she does. Although her love for her child is not in question, her writing style is clearly not as strong as Grymeston’s, and perhaps reflects an awareness of the wife and mother’s status in society. Leigh is fearful of many of the words she uses to counsel her son and counters her advice with deference to the proper place of the father in the household, under which the influence women and mothers should fall. Joceline’s writing is fairly unique among this trio. For example, there are references to her husband in her legacy, and it is evident through her writing that she and her husband appear to have a happy marriage and have been planning together for the birth of their child. She doesn’t seem to treat him with the deference of Leigh’s writing, but rather recognizes his place in her life as well as in that of their child. Possibly the most significant idea in Joceline’s writing is that she is writing to an unborn child, to a boy or a girl. We see not only the mind of a Renaissance mother, but also the different ways in which a baby boy or a baby girl would be raised and cared for. We also see the fear that Joceline has, should the child be female, because she recognizes that this was a difficult period in which to raise daughters due to a superimposition of societal constraints and expectations on the parental desire to help their child have a happy and successful life.

Despite the differences in the writing styles of these women, each represents a new type of mother—one who isn’t afraid to express her feelings for her children and who will provide the utmost in maternal affection to ensure their success.

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