Christmas at Mount Vernon, although it could never again be the gay
season it had been, was yet cheerful. The presence of Lord Fairfax
and George, of Madam Washington and Betty, revived the spirits of the
master and mistress. William Fairfax, now a handsome young man of
eighteen, and the same mild, manly, good-natured fellow, was home from
Williamsburg for the holidays. George had never been to Williamsburg,
where there was a viceregal court, and where everything was conducted
upon a scale adapted to a representative of royalty. He was much
impressed by William’s description, and the two made many plans for a
holiday together, the next winter, in the capital.
“And we will attend the governor’s levee--but you must not be too much
of a republican, George, for the governor exacts viceregal respect--and
the assemblies in the great Apollo Room at the Raleigh Tavern, and the
lectures at the college by learned men from England and Scotland. Ah,
George, how you will enjoy it!” cried William.
Lord Fairfax, hearing the young men talk, felt a desire to revisit
Williamsburg, a place where he had spent some happy days, and soon
after this conversation, when William had already returned to college,
he said, one day:
“I think, George, if your brother can spare you towards the spring, I
should like to have you visit Williamsburg with me. It is now twelve
years since I was there in the administration of my Lord Botetourt.
He exacted every mark of respect that would have been paid to the
king himself. I well remember his going in state to open the House
of Burgesses, as the king opens Parliament. He rode in a gilt coach,
given him by the king himself, drawn by eight milk-white horses--a very
fine show; but for all their love of finery and display themselves,
the Virginians are very jealous of any on the part of their rulers,
and many gentlemen who drove coaches-and-four themselves complained
bitterly of the governor.”
George was charmed at the prospect, and took the first opportunity of
broaching the subject to Laurence.
“I think it would be very advantageous to you to see something of a
viceregal court, and I will see that you have the means to make a good
appearance,” was Laurence’s kind reply.
“Thank you, brother,” said George, gratefully. “I will have things
on the place in such order that everything will go on as if I were
here; and as I shall come back for some weeks before returning to the
mountains, I can see whether my orders have been carried out or not.”
Another summer’s work would finish all the surveys Lord Fairfax wished,
and it was understood that at the end of that time George was to live
permanently at Mount Vernon in charge of the estate.
Madam Washington was delighted at the idea of George’s advent at the
provincial court under such auspices, and Betty danced for joy, and
immediately plunged into a discussion of George’s wardrobe for the
great event.
“Timothy Jones, the tailor in Alexandria, has some fine green cloth,
out of which he could make you a surtout trimmed with silver, and I saw
myself an elegant piece of scarlet velvet from which a mantle to wear
to court might be made. And you shall have my best Mechlin lace for
your cravat. Ah, George, how I long to see you in your fine clothes!”
“I should think, Betty,” replied George, smiling, “you would be more
concerned about how I will conduct myself with these great people. You
know, sometimes I lose my speech entirely, and become very awkward;
and sometimes I become abstracted in company, and nobody’s manners are
perfect at eighteen.”
“Dear George,” cried Betty, throwing her arms around his neck, “I think
of your clothes because that is all that I need think about with you.
In every other way you are sure to do us credit,” which made George
feel that Betty was the most good-natured creature alive.
“I wish you were going,” said he, presently.
“I wish so, too,” replied Betty. “But when brother Laurence gets well
sister Anne has promised to take me, and my mother has said I may go,”
for both George and Betty, with the optimism of youth, thought it quite
certain that their brother would one day be well.
The first day of February the start was made. The grand equipage set
forth, with the earl and George on the back seat of the coach and
Lance on the box. Billy rode George’s horse, and was in ecstasies
at the prospect of such an expedition. On the second day, in the
evening, the coach rolled into Williamsburg. It was a lovely February
evening, and the watchman was going about lighting lanterns hung to
tall poles at the street corners. George had chosen to make the
last stage with the earl, and was deeply interested in all he saw.
The town was as straggling as Alexandria, or as Fredericksburg, but
there was that unmistakable air of a capital which the presence of
the seat of government always gives. As they drove rapidly, and with
great clatter and noise, down Duke of Gloucester Street, George
noticed many gentlemen in both naval and military uniforms, and others
in the unpowdered wig of the scholar, which last he inferred were
professors and tutors at the college. Of collegians there were not
a few, and George noticed they always appeared in gangs, and seemed
to regard themselves as quite aloof from other persons and slightly
superior to them. As the coach drove quickly through the Palace Green,
with the palace on one hand and the college on the other, both were
brilliantly lighted. A couple of sentries in red coats marched up and
down before the palace--a long, rambling brick building with its two
generous wings, and its great courtyard with fine iron gates. On top
was a cupola, which was only lighted up on gala nights. On both sides
of the palace were spacious gardens, with a straight canal, bordered
with cedars, cut in the stiff, artificial manner of the time, and with
small summer-houses, in the form of Greek temples, made of stucco. A
coach was driving out and another was driving in, while an officer,
evidently an aide-de-camp, picked his way along the gravelled path that
led to the side where the offices were. Opposite the palace towered
the plain but substantial brick buildings of William and Mary College,
and a crowd of students were going into the common hall for supper. It
all seemed very grand to George’s eyes, and when they alighted at the
Raleigh Tavern, the tavern-keeper, wearing silk stockings and carrying
two silver candlesticks, came out to meet them, and ushered them into
a handsome private room, ornamented over the mantel by a print of his
majesty, King George the Second. The tavern-keeper was not by any means
like the sturdy citizens who kept houses of entertainment between
Fredericksburg and the mountains. He “my lorded” the earl at every
turn, and was evidently used to fine company. He was happy to say that
he was then entertaining Sir John Peyton, of Gloucester, who had come
to Williamsburg for the winter season, and Colonel Byrd, of Westover.
Also, the Honorable John Tyler, marshal of the colony, was attending
the governor’s council upon matters of importance, and was occupying
the second-best rooms in the tavern--my lord having the best, of
course, according to his rank. The earl was a little wearied with all
this, but bore with it civilly until the tavern-keeper bowed himself
out, when William Fairfax burst in, delighted to see them. William was
neither so tall nor so handsome as George, but he was a fine young
fellow, overflowing with health and spirits.
“The governor heard you were coming, sir,” cried William, “and stopped
his coach in the street yesterday to ask me when you would arrive. I
told him you had probably started, if my advices were correct, and
that you would be accompanied by Mr. George Washington, brother of
Mr. Laurence Washington, now of Mount Vernon, but late of the royal
army. He said he much desired to meet Mr. Washington’s brother--for to
tell you the truth, my lord, the governor loves rank and wealth in his
provincial subjects--and, meaning to speak well for George, I told him
a great deal of Mr. Laurence Washington’s lands and other wealth, and
he smiled, or, rather, gaped, just like a great sheepshead at a bait.”
“William, you should be respectful of dignitaries,” was the earl’s
reply, although he smiled, while George laughed outright at William’s
artful working upon the governor’s weaknesses.
As soon as supper was over came a thundering knock upon the door, and
the host ushered in Sir John Peyton, of Gloucester, a colonial dandy,
whose pride it was that he had the handsomest foot and leg in the
colony. Sir John was very elegantly dressed, and carried upon his left
arm a muff, which effeminate fashion he had brought from England on his
last visit.
“Ah, my Lord Fairfax! Most happy to meet you,” cried Sir John,
affectedly. “’Tis most unkind of you to pitch your tent in the
wilderness, instead of gracing the viceregal court, where gentlemen of
rank and wealth are sadly needed.”
“Having experienced the hollowness of a regal court, Sir John, I can
withstand all the attractions of any other,” was Lord Fairfax’s quiet
and rather sarcastic reply.
Sir John, not at all disconcerted, helped himself with a jewelled hand
from a gold snuffbox, and then, leaning against the mantel, put his
hands in his muff.
“By all the loves of Venus, my lord, you and your young friend Mr.
Washington should see some of the beautiful young ladies here. There
is Mistress Martha Dandridge--odd’s life, if I were not pledged to die
a bachelor I should sue for that fair maid’s hand; and Lady Christine
Blair--born Stewart, who met and married Mr. Blair in Edinburgh--a
dull, psalm-singing town it is. Lady Christine, having great beauty,
illumines the college where her husband is professor. And the lovely,
the divine Evelyn Byrd, and Mistress Tyler, who is one of those French
Huguenots, and has a most bewitching French accent--all ladies worthy
of your lordship’s admiration.”
“No doubt,” replied the earl, gravely, but inwardly tickled at Sir
John’s ineffable impudence. “They would but slightly value the
admiration of an ancient recluse like myself, and would prefer my young
friends, Mr. Washington and Mr. Fairfax.”
Sir John, quite unabashed, now turned to the two young men, who had
difficulty in keeping their faces straight when they looked at him.
“Really, Mr. Washington, you must get a muff if you wish to be
comfortable in this cursed climate. I never knew comfort till I got one
in England, on the recommendation of Mr. Horace Walpole, who has the
divinest taste in muffs and china I ever saw.”
“I am afraid I cannot find one of a size for my hand,” answered George,
gravely, holding out a well-shaped but undeniably large hand.
After much more talk about Mr. Horace Walpole, the lovely Miss Berrys,
and the company of comedians daily expected from London, Sir John took
his leave, promising to see them at the governor’s levee next day.
As soon as the door closed upon him Lord Fairfax turned to William
and said, testily, “I hoped I had left all such popinjays as Sir John
Peyton at court in England, but here I find the breed flourishing.”
“Sir John is not half so absurd as he looks, sir,” answered William,
laughing. “He is as brave as a lion; and when on his last voyage home
there was fire in the ship’s cargo, I hear he was the coolest man on
board, and by his conceits and quips and jests in the face of danger
kept off a panic. And he is honorable and truthful, and he really has
much sense.”
“Then,” cried the earl, “he does all he can to disguise it!”
Their next visitors were Colonel Byrd, of Westover, and Mr. Tyler,
marshal of the colony, who ranked next the governor, and Mr. Randolph,
Speaker of the House of Burgesses. The earl received these gentlemen
with marked respect, placed chairs for them himself, and entered into a
long and interesting conversation with them on the state of the colony.
Both George and William remained modestly silent, as became young men
of their age, and listened attentively. It was agreed among them all
that war with the French was practically certain. The colonies were
thoroughly aroused, and each of the visitors gave it as his opinion
that the colonies were willing to settle the question themselves
without aid from the home government.
“And when the conflict comes,” remarked Colonel Byrd, turning to the
two young men, “it is to young gentlemen such as these that we must
look for our safety, because, you may be sure, if the French capture
our outposts they will not be satisfied until they overrun our whole
lowland country, and they must be checked at the mountains if they are
to be checked at all.”
“My young friend, Mr. Washington, knows all about matters on the
frontier, as he has surveyed my lands across the Alleghanies for two
summers, and he is quite as familiar with the temper of the Indians as
with the face of the country,” remarked the earl.
This at once made George an object of interest to them all, and he was
closely questioned. He answered everything that was asked him with such
intelligence and pith that his new acquaintances formed a high idea
of his sense. He often referred to William Fairfax, who had been with
him the first summer, and William made also a fine impression. They
sat until midnight, talking, and Lance had to renew the fire and the
candles twice before the company parted.
Next morning William came betimes and burst into George’s room while
that young gentleman was still in bed.
“Get up, man!” cried William, shaking him. “Here you lie sleeping like
a log when you ought to be having your breakfast and making ready to
see the town.”
George needed no second invitation, and in a very short time was making
play with his breakfast in the sitting-room reserved for Lord Fairfax.
The earl was there himself, and the delightful anticipations of George
and William, which were fully shared by Lance and Billy, brought a
smile to his usually grave face.
Lance was simply beaming. A number of his old regiment were enrolled
among the governor’s body-guard, and the sight of a redcoat did him, as
he said, “a world of good.” As for Billy, he had reached the state of
_nil admirari_, and was determined to be surprised at nothing. On the
contrary, when the tavern servants had assumed that he was a country
servant, Billy had completely turned the tables on them. Nothing in
the Raleigh Tavern was good enough for him. He pished and pshawed in
the most approved style, treated Colonel Byrd’s and Marshal Tyler’s
servants with infinite scorn, and declined to be patronized even by
Sir John Peyton’s own man, who had been to London. He called them all
“cornfiel’ han’s,” and, as the way generally is, he was taken at his
own valuation, and reigned monarch of all he surveyed in the kitchen,
where he gave more trouble than Lord Fairfax himself. However, one
person could bring Billy down with neatness and despatch. This was
Lance, who, although belonging to a class of white people that Billy
despised, yet was capable of reporting him to “Marse George,” so Billy
was wary when Lance was around.
At three o’clock the coach came, and the earl and George set forth
with outriders to attend the governor’s levee. It was the first time
George had ever seen the earl in court-dress. He wore a splendid
suit of plum-colored satin, with ruby and diamond shoebuckles, with
his diamond-hilted sword, and a powdered wig. George, too, was very
elegantly dressed, and as they drove up to the palace, amid a crowd
of coaches and chaises of all sorts, and dismounted, there were not
two such distinguished-looking persons there. George felt decidedly
flurried, although he had ample self-possession to disguise it.
[Illustration: THE GOVERNOR’S LEVEE]
They were met by the governor’s guard in the great entrance-hall,
who passed them on to an anteroom, where half a dozen lackeys in
gorgeous liveries bowed to the ground before them. A great pair
of folding-doors led into the audience-chamber, and at a signal from
within the doors were thrown wide, and they entered.
The room was large but low, and had on each side a row of mullioned
windows. It was crowded with company, but a lane was at once made for
the earl and George, who advanced towards a dais covered with scarlet
cloth at one end of the room, where Governor Dinwiddie stood, in a
splendid court-dress; for the governors of Virginia assumed to be
viceroys, and everything at the provincial court was copied, as far as
possible, from the same thing at the Court of St. James. Ranged round
the dais were the wife and daughters of the governor with several
ladies-in-waiting, also in court-dresses with trains.
As the earl and George made their reverences they attracted much
attention; and when George stood back, silent and awaiting his turn
while the governor conversed with the earl, there was a murmur of
admiration for him. He was so manly, so graceful, his figure was set
off with so incomparable an air of elegance, that other men appeared
commonplace beside him. He seemed from his ease and grace to have spent
his life at courts, while, in truth, he had never seen anything half so
fine before.
The governor, having finished his conversation with the earl, motioned
to George, who advanced as the earl backed off, it being inadmissible
to turn one’s back on the governor.
The first question asked by Governor Dinwiddie was:
“My Lord Fairfax tells me, Mr. Washington, that you have explored much
in the Northwest.”
“I have, your excellency.”
“I should very much like at your leisure to have an account of affairs
in that region.”
“Your excellency may command me.”
“And I shall meanwhile have pleasure in presenting you to Madam
Dinwiddie, and my daughters Mistress Eleanor and Mistress Katharine.”
Madam Dinwiddie, a comely dame, and the two young ladies courtesied low
to the handsome young man presented to them, and Madam Dinwiddie said:
“I hope, Mr. Washington, that we may see you at the ball to-night.”
“I have promised myself that honor, madam,” replied George.
With the earl he then withdrew to the back of the hall, where they
found many acquaintances, old to the earl but new to George; and no man
or woman who saw George that day but was impressed with him as a youth
of whom great things might be expected.