A TRUE PORTRAIT OF MARY WASHINGTON
"The search-lights of history have unfolded to us nothing of
interest touching Mrs. Washington from the time of the French
and Indian War until the awakening of the great Revolution.
Fortunate is the woman, said the Greek of old, of whom neither
good nor ill is spoken. And, curtained away from the world, the
matron lived under the great Taskmaster's eye, in the bosom of
that home, by whose fruit ye shall know her. Many years had
rolled by since she settled at 'Pine Grove,' with her first-born
son. And, while she lived in retirement and in silence, how had
great events rushed forward; how had the child become the father
to the man? Grave tasks were his while yet a boy. Step by step
he ascended the ladder of honor and usefulness. A surveyer for
Lord Fairfax at sixteen, crossing the Blue Ridge on horseback,
traversing the wilderness to the bounds of civilization, getting
six pistoles, or something more than $7 a day, for his efficient
service, while in leisure hours he read under the guidance of
Lord Fairfax, the history of England, the 'Spectator,' and other
books of that high order; appointed public surveyor a little
later, and then adjutant-general of Virginia troops at nineteen;
managing a great plantation and training the Militia of the
State; at twenty-one penetrating the Northwest as a negotiator
for Governor Dinwiddie, and fighting the French; aide-de-camp
to Braddock, a little later, in his ill-starred expedition,
suffering defeat; with the victor at Fort Duquesne, where
Pittsburg now stands, at twenty-six; member of the Virginia
House of Burgesses at twenty-seven; ever onward, ever upward,
until, as the great Revolution broke out, we find him journeying
to Philadelphia as a delegate to the Continental Congress, and
presently appearing on the field of Boston as commander-in-chief
of the Continental army!"
Thus spoke, out of the fulness of his heart, Senator Daniel at the
unveiling of the Mary Washington monument, but the truth is that
these years were marked by many cares and anxieties. Five times
had Samuel Washington married: Jane Champe, Mildred Thornton, Lucy
Chapman, Anne Steptoe, the widow Perrin. This list sounds like a
chapter from the reign of Henry the Eighth. Tradition says he was
separated from some of his wives otherwise than by death. It is
certain he was unfortunate in money matters, having many children
and finding it "hard to get along." His brother was always helping
him. His children were much at Mount Vernon, especially Steptoe
Washington and Harriett Washington, whose names appear frequently
upon the general's expense book. He enters various items against
Harriett,--earrings and necklace and many garments. He bemoans, "She
was not brung up right! She has no disposition, and takes no care
of her clothes, which are dabbed about in every corner and the best
are always in use." "In God's name," he writes to his brother, John
Augustine, "how has Samuel managed to get himself so enormously in
debt?" He found places from time to time for many of Samuel's sons,
and was never other than good to all.
John Augustine Washington, the general's favorite brother,
married Hannah Bushrod, and settled in Westmoreland. Charles, the
youngest, married Mildred Thornton of the Fall-Hill Thorntons, near
Fredericksburg. His home was in Charlestown, Jefferson County. Of
him the world has known but little. In the presence of a planet of
the first magnitude the little stars are not observed.
Mary Washington was now alone at "Pine Grove." Her windows commanded
Fredericksburg and the wharf, where the ships from England unloaded
rich stuffs to tempt the Virginian, loading again with sweet-scented
tobacco for the old country that had so quickly learned to love the
luxury from the new. It is doubtful whether she ever bought from
these vessels. She certainly never sold to them. In 1760 she writes
to her brother Joseph in England, excusing herself for having sent
him no letters, "As I don't ship tobacco the Captains never call
on me, soe that I never know when tha come and when tha goe." She
was a busy woman, minding her own affairs and utterly free from
idle curiosity. Her life was full of interest and occupation. The
conscientious housewife of her day was burdened with many cares.
The large plantation must support itself. Nearer than Annapolis
and Williamsburg were no shops or stores from which supplies could
be drawn. The large number of servants living on the plantations
demanded great quantities of food and clothing, and the farm work
many utensils,--all of which were manufactured on the farm itself.
The diary of a New Jersey tutor gives us interesting accounts
of life in the Westmoreland neighborhood, where lived the Lees,
Carters, Washingtons, Tayloes, and other large landholders. Higher
up, near Mount Vernon, dwelt George Mason of "Gunston Hall," and his
son, John, is our eye-witness-chronicler of the plantation life near
Mary Washington.
"It was the practice of gentlemen of landed and slave estates so
to organize them as to have resources within themselves. Thus
my father had among his slaves carpenters, coopers, sawyers,
blacksmiths, tanners, curriers, shoemakers, spinners, weavers
and knitters, and even a distiller. His woods furnished timber
and plank for the carpenters and coopers, and charcoal for
the blacksmith; his cattle, killed for their own consumption,
supplied skins for the tanners, curriers and shoemakers; his
sheep gave wool, his fields flax and cotton for the weavers;
and his orchards fruit for the distiller. His carpenters and
sawyers built and kept in repair all the dwelling houses, barns,
stables, ploughs, harrows, gates, &c., on his plantation. His
coopers made the hogsheads for tobacco and the casks to hold the
liquors. The tanners and curriers tanned the skins for leather
and the shoemakers made them into shoes for the negroes. A
Professed shoemaker was hired for three or four months in
the year to come and make up the shoes for the family. The
blacksmiths did all the iron work required on the plantation.
The spinners and knitters made all the clothes and stockings
used by the negroes, and some of finer texture worn by the
ladies and children of the family. The distiller made apple,
peach and persimmon brandy. A white man, a weaver of fine
stuffs, was employed to superintend the black weavers."[9]
[9] "Life of George Mason," by Kate Mason Rowland.
To carry on these operations--to cure and preserve meats, fruits,
and medicinal herbs, make vinegar and cordials, and to prepare
constantly for a great deal of company, coming incessantly to stay
at the house--required unceasing attention and strict method.
This is a large pattern which was repeated on a smaller scale
by Mary Washington. Method became, with her, almost a mania.
Her neighbors set their watches by the ringing of her bells.
She was never the fraction of a minute too late at church. She
was punctiliously exact in her observance of all appointments
and prompt to the minute in meeting those appointments. By the
well-regulated clock in her entry--the clock which is now preserved
at "Kenmore"--all the movements of her household were regulated.
Her illustrious son had also such a clock. He graciously allowed,
at dinner, five minutes for the possible variation of timepieces.
After they expired he would wait for no one. If an apologizing guest
arrived after the dinner was advanced, his excuses were met with
the simple announcement, "Sir, I have a cook who never asks whether
the company has come, but whether the hour has come." His mother
had taught him the value of time. Her teaching followed him through
life, and was obeyed after he was President of the United States.
The chaplain of Congress records that the hour of noon having been
fixed for hearing the President's message, he usually crossed the
threshold exactly as the clock was striking twelve.
A contemporary observer relates that "Mrs. Washington never failed
to receive visitors with a smiling, cordial welcome," but adds
quaintly that "they were never asked twice to stay, and she always
speeded the parting guest by affording every facility in her power."
Perfectly sincere herself, she believed them sincere when they
declared themselves unable to remain.
She was said to possess a dignity of manner that was at first
somewhat repellent to a stranger, but always commanded thorough
respect from her friends and acquaintances. Her voice was sweet,
almost musical in its cadences, yet firm and decided, and she was
always cheerful in spirit. "In her person she was of the middle
size, and finely formed; her features pleasing, yet strongly marked."
Her young friends and grandchildren often visited her. Lawrence
Washington, her son's cousin and playmate, said: "I was more afraid
of her than of my own parents--and even when time had whitened my
locks I could not behold that majestic woman without feelings it is
impossible to describe. She awed me in the midst of kindness."
"She was," said one of her family, "conspicuous for an awe-inspiring
manner, so characteristic in the Father of our Country. All who
knew her will remember the dignified matron as she appeared when
the presiding genius of her well-ordered home, commanding and being
obeyed," never speaking ill of any one, never condescending to
gossip herself or encouraging gossip in others.
I have always felt that this Lawrence Washington, the only person
who knew Mary Washington many years intimately, and who wrote his
impressions of her, was responsible for the universal opinion
that she was stern and repelling,--an opinion that has colored
all the traditions of all the others who knew her as children. I
am persuaded that this Lawrence did the mischief. Somebody sowed
tares in the fair field of her reputation. Lawrence, I am sure, was
the kind of boy known as "a terror,"--a boy who chased chickens,
brought hounds and muddy feet on the polished floors, trampled
flower-beds, rifled the fruit trees, overturned pans of milk, upset
the furniture, and broke the china. Well might he be more afraid of
Mrs. Washington even than of his own parents (and what more could
he say?), and we may believe he had many a scolding and in his early
years an opportunity to test the flavor of the peach tree.
I am so fully assured that his testimony was the beginning of all
that Mary Washington has suffered at the hands of her countrymen,
that I have diligently looked up his record, hoping to find that he
came to no good: but alas! he is mentioned with affectionate respect
in George Washington's will as "the acquaintance and friend of my
juvenile years." It is some comfort, however, to find he had a wild
son, Lawrence, who fought a duel, and gave him no end of trouble!
And as to the traditions! What are they worth? Has the reader never
stood in a line when a story whispered from one to the other was
told aloud at the end, and in no case ever found to be the story
of the beginning? Thomas Fuller tells of the name "Musard," which
became, as it passed down the generations from lip to lip "Roper."
A popular dramatic reader once took for his text the words "come
here," and showed how accent, gesture, and tone could change their
meaning from invitation to menace, from tenderness to fury.
The stories told of Mary Washington were always altered to fit the
prevailing opinion of her sternness. Let me give an example. "When
General Washington sent over the country to impress horses (and
pay for them) his officers were attracted by a pair ploughing in a
field. The driver was ordered to unhitch them, but an ebony Mercury
ran to warn his mistress who appeared in her doorway. 'Madam,' said
the officer, 'we bear General Washington's orders to take these
horses.' 'Does George need horses?' said Mary Washington. 'Well, he
can have mine, but he must wait until my field is finished.'"
Now this is a poor little story, with no point at all save to
illustrate Mary Washington's estimation of the relative importance
of the sword and the ploughshare. Like all others it is changed as
the years pass. A short time ago a revised edition reached me from
the West.
This is the amended story: "'What are you doing there with my
horses?' said an irate old woman who appeared just then on the
field. 'Leave the place instantly!' 'But--Madam--we have orders from
the Commander-in-chief! We must obey.' 'Well, then, you may just
obey _me_! Go back and tell your _Commander-in-chief_' (with great
scorn and derision) 'that his mother's horses are not for sale, and
he can't borrow 'em till her spring ploughing is done.' It was the
part of prudence to leave. The officers left!"
The story grew to this proportion in a hundred years. Given another
hundred, and we will find that Mary Washington laid violent hands
on the men who claimed the horses, and chastised the ploughmen who
surrendered them.
In 1765 two pair of observant eyes opened upon the world, and
were focussed upon the "awe-inspiring" lady, Betty Lewis, little
Betty and Dr. Charles Mortimer's little Maria. The children were
playmates, schoolmates, and girl friends from a very early age,
each intimate at the other's home and both intimate at the home of
Mary Washington. They adored her! They found naught to remember but
smiles, gentle words, sweet, motherly ways. Betty (afterwards Mrs.
Charles Carter) has furnished many of the unimportant traditions
quoted in various accounts of her grandmother's home life. They
come to us as traditions of traditions, not to be despised, yet
not to be accepted as history. The other pair of eyes were keener
for the dress and belongings of her venerable friend. To Maria
Mortimer, daughter of Mary Washington's physician, we are indebted
for the familiar picture of the short skirt and sack,--a sort of
cote-hardi,--the mob cap, the table upon which lay "Sir Matthew
Hale" and his ally, in the presence of which there was such small
hope for the sinner. Freshly gathered from the friendly peach
tree, this was used as freely--this much we willingly concede--as
circumstances demanded. The two children played happily at her knee
despite the menacing tools of the Inquisition, which we would fain
believe were never used on them.
[Illustration: Mrs. Charles Carter.]
To their dying day they talked reverently and most abundantly; for
after General Washington became so very great there were always
listeners. Had they written conscientiously as the New Jersey tutor
did instead of talking, we might have known more of the reserved,
stately woman who bore and fostered and taught the revered Father
of his Country; but we know too well how sentiments can be trimmed
and shaped and clothed upon as they pass down the generations from
lip to lip, to venture to give them as gospel facts in clear,
twentieth-century type. They will surely live without the aid
of any present or future historian, for this is the fortune of
trifles! Great thoughts, feelings, aspirations,--great unselfish
deeds even,--perish and are forgotten, while trifling words,
gestures, peculiarities in dress or speech, live with no apparent
reasonableness whatever--certainly not because of their dignity or
merit. They swarm around the honored men and women of the world
like insects around a traveller on a sunny day, living of their
own accord, too insignificant to challenge or brush away, gaining
dignity at last from their own antiquity. Who cares whether Thomas
Carlyle liked his chops tender, objected to vermin, or abhorred the
crowing of a cock? Yet, I venture to say, when his name is called,
his image is associated oftener with his peculiarities than with the
sublime thoughts with which he sought to elevate and inspire the
world.
Mary Washington sustained through a long life a lofty character for
Christian purity and dignity; trained a son to lead our country
through many years of danger and privation to the liberty and
prosperity which places it to-day in the front of all the nations
of the earth; yielded her life at last, in pain unspeakable,
with no murmur upon her pure lips. Yet when her name is called,
all the ingenuity of her countrymen is aroused to accentuate her
peculiarities--to treat her with a sort of whimsical indulgence, as
an unlettered old woman, conspicuous for eccentricities of temper,
of dress, petty economies--in short, make her ridiculous! Truly, in
all ages there are Greeks who weary of hearing Aristides called the
Just!
In the face of all the testimony I have presented and will present,
the most remarkable statements regarding Mary Washington are
continually printed in the Historical Sketches published by the
best firms in the country. What can be their authority for such
statements as these?--
"The Washingtons were poor hard-working people. Mary Washington
cooked, weaved, spun, washed and made the clothes for her
family."
"Her children had no outer garments to protect them from the
cold--no cloak, boots or hats except in winter; no cloaks then.
In severe weather the boys simply put on two or three trousers
instead of one."
"Mary Washington quarrelled with her son so that when he wished
to minister to her comfort in her old age he was forced to do so
through some third party. These things she accepted as her due,
showing a grim half-comic ingratitude that was very fine."
"Washington's mother scolded and grumbled to the day of her
death--seeking solace only by smoking a pipe."
Could this monstrous woman have held an honored place in a social
circle of stately, courteous, cultured people? Why assert such
things which completely offset an oft-repeated concession that
"all the sterling, classic virtues of industry, frugality and
truth-telling were inculcated by this excellent mother(!) and her
strong common sense made its indelible impress upon the mind of her
son."
She has also suffered much at the hands of her own countrywomen!
We must remember she never appeared in the full blaze of public
scrutiny until she was over seventy years old, and then,
impoverished by a long war with an _entourage_ the most discouraging
and painful. Women then found her parsimonious, ungraceful in
dress and manner, sour in temper! Pray what have we, my fastidious
sisters, done for our country in our day and generation? Compare
our privileges and opportunities with hers! The wealth, the light,
the leisure of a happy era, are ours, and yet not enough can this
affluent country afford for our adornment, our culture and pleasure.
We can--and do--traverse the earth, flitting from land to land
as the seasons change, becoming acquainted, if it so please us,
with the cloistered wisdom of libraries, the color and beauty of
palaces, the priceless treasures of art centres, able to enrich our
minds with all the whole world has to offer, from ancient days to
this, and with the possible contact of brilliant minds at home and
abroad. Show me the result! Something, I grant you, is gained in
personal charm, much, alas! in accentuating the natural heart-break
from which the less fortunate suffer in witnessing the undeserved
contrasts and inequalities of life.
Surely it is not for American women of this day--sheltered,
treasured, adored--to complain that industry, simplicity in living,
ungraceful dress and manner, mar the portrait of a noble woman whose
lot was cast in a narrow and thorny path, whose life was necessarily
a denied one, and yet who accomplished more for her country than any
other woman ever did or ever can do!
It was her pleasure to live simply--at a time of almost riotous
profusion. It was her pleasure to busy her own hands with the
housewifely work of her own household,--knitting, sewing, sorting
fleeces for "Virginia cloth," preserving fruits, distilling herbs
for the sick,--"making drudgery divine" by sharing the tasks she
laid upon others, thereby earning her many gifts to the poor.
In an age of abundant leisure she was industrious; in an age of
dissipation of time and money she was self-denying, diligent, and
frugal; in an age when speech was free and profanity "genteel" she
preserved her temperate speech, unpolluted by the faintest taint
of coarseness or irreverance. When the church no longer concerned
itself with the care of men's souls, she kept her own serene, in
her simple faith that prayer would prevail in the end, performing
every outward religious duty as conscientiously as if the priests
and bishops showed, as well as taught, the way. So did she--
". . . travel on life's common way
In cheerful Godliness; and yet her heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay."
This, the result of many years spent in studying her character, the
writer presents as the true Mary Washington, to be honored all the
more for her retired, her simple life, her homely industries.
It is proper that her characteristics should be summed up before
the weakness of extreme old age had lessened its activity and
usefulness, while she was still young enough to catch the enthusiasm
of her friends and neighbors for fine houses, fine coaches, rich
dress, and much indulgence in pleasure.
She was better able than some of her neighbors to indulge in these
things, deemed in her day the essentials of position. Perhaps she
may have heard the specious argument urged by some to warrant such
indulgence,--the argument that expenditure in luxuries becomes
the duty of the rich in order to stimulate the industries of the
poor. But Mary Washington believed in the wholesome influence of an
_example_ of self-denial, which can only become of any worth when
practised by choice and not by necessity. And yet she lived long
before Stuart Mill and other political economists had demonstrated
that money spent in rich garments, jewels, and luxury in living adds
nothing of permanent value to the world.
[Illustration: MARY WASHINGTON'S HOUSE IN FREDERICKSBURG.]
She never left the plain, four-roomed, dormer-windowed dwelling
at "Pine Grove," until for her greater protection she moved into
Fredericksburg, choosing a home still plainer and less spacious
than the house on her farm. Says Mr. Custis, who saw her in this
home: "Her great industry, with the well-regulated economy of
all her concerns, enabled her to dispense considerable charities
to the poor, although her own circumstances were always far from
rich. All manner of domestic economies met her zealous attentions;
while everything about her household bore marks of her care and
management, and very many things the impress of her own hands. In
a very humble dwelling thus lived this mother of the first of men,
preserving, unchanged, her peculiar nobleness and independence of
character."
This most valuable testimony as to Mary Washington's character,
appearance, and manner is contained in the first chapter of "The
Recollections and Private Memoirs of Washington," by George
Washington Parke Custis, son of "Jack" Custis, who was the only
son of Mrs. George Washington. "Jack" Custis died young (he was
married at nineteen), and his son, named for General Washington,
with his sister, Nelly Custis, were adopted into the Mount Vernon
family. Although this son was too young to have fully appreciated
Mary Washington, his testimony comes directly from her own sons and
daughter and others who knew her intimately. Through them he studied
her, and by no one of them was he contradicted. His statements are
conclusive--not to be challenged. They need no additional force from
the tradition that between the Custis family and Madam Washington
"there was never perfect accord"--one of the meaningless traditions
originating in the busy brain of some gossip, for which there was
no foundation in truth. Although several extracts have already
been given from Mr. Custis's book, the fact that the book itself
is now out of print, and to be found only in the Congressional
Library at Washington, and possibly in some of the older libraries
of the country, will perhaps excuse me for having quoted so freely
the chapter relating to Mary Washington. It was written only
thirty-seven years after her death, and from it has been drawn the
relations given by Sparks, Lossing, and others.
"The mother of George Washington," says Mr. Custis, "the hero of the
American Revolutionary War, and the first President of the United
States, claims the noblest distinction a woman should covet or can
gain, that of training a gifted son in the way he should go, and
inspiring him by her example to make the way of goodness his path to
glory."
But the noblest tribute to this great woman was Washington's own.
"All that I am," said he, "I owe to my mother." All that we are as a
nation we owe to him. His debt is ours. It is many times multiplied.
It is ever growing as the ever growing Republic illustrates in its
virtues and in its faults alike the merit of his example and the
wisdom of her teachings. We but degrade ourselves when we refuse
to recognize this debt. Let us rather discharge it as best we
may, in "coin of the highest value--the pure gold of devotion and
gratitude."