"The present situation of the army" (Jan. 8, 1780) "is the most
distressing of any we have experienced since the beginning of the
war. For a fortnight past the troops, both officers and men, have
been almost perishing from want. The troops are half starved,
imperfectly clothed, riotous, and robbing the country people of
their subsistence from sheer necessity." In April things had not
improved. "We are on the point of starving," he wrote to Reed
of Pennsylvania. "I have almost ceased to hope. The country in
general is in such a state of insensibility and indifference to its
interests that I dare not flatter myself with any change for the
better." And he adds, like a sigh of hopeless anguish, "In modern
wars the longest purse must chiefly determine the event."
The English were fully cognizant of this state of affairs. "We look
on America as at our feet," wrote Horace Walpole, in 1780, to Mann.
"Poorly clothed, badly fed, and worse paid," said General Wayne
in 1780, "some of them not having had a paper dollar for nearly
twelve months; exposed to winter's piercing cold, to drifting snows
and chilling blasts, with no protection but old worn-out coats,
tattered linen overalls, and but one blanket between three men! In
this situation, the enemy begin to work upon their passions, and
have found means to circulate proclamations among them. The officers
in general, as well as myself, stand for hours every day exposed
to wind and weather among the poor naked fellows while they are
working at their huts, assisting with our own hands, sharing every
vicissitude in common with them, participating in their ration
of bread and water. The delicate mind and eye of humanity are
hurt--very much hurt--at their distress."
These were the trials to which the soldiers of the American
Revolution were subjected, and which those who endured to the end
bore without murmuring; for no stress of suffering could wring from
their brave hearts a word of injury to the cause for which they
suffered!
May the honors now so gladly awarded to those brave men, by those
descended from them, never be given by inadvertence or mistake to
the caitiff host that forsook their commander in his dark hour!
The army that bore the sufferings of which so many have written was
a small one. Few armies have ever shown a nobler self-devotion than
that which remained with Washington through the dreary winter at
Valley Forge, but the conscientious historian must not give honor
equally to them and the mighty host of the American people who had
no sympathy with the movement. Washington himself wrote, Dec. 30,
1778, "If I were called upon to draw a picture of the times and of
the men from what I have seen, heard, and part know, I should in
one word say that idleness, dissipation, and extravagance seem to
have laid fast hold upon them; that speculation, peculation and an
insatiable thirst for riches seem to have got the better of every
other consideration--that party disputes and quarrels are the great
business of the day; whilst the momentous concerns of an empire, a
great and accumulating debt, ruined finances, depreciated money, and
want of credit--which in its consequence is want of everything--are
but of secondary consideration."
Under these circumstances the nobility and beauty of the character
of Washington can indeed hardly be surpassed. "He commanded," says
Lecky, "a perpetually fluctuating army, almost wholly destitute of
discipline and respect for authority, torn by the most violent
personal and provincial jealousies, wretchedly armed, wretchedly
clothed, and sometimes in danger of starvation. Unsupported for
the most part by the population among whom he was quartered, and
incessantly thwarted by Congress, he kept his army together by a
combination of skill, firmness, patience, and judgment which has
rarely been surpassed, and he led it at last to a signal triumph."
But while he thus held his army discontent, distrust,
suspicion,--the train which inevitably follows failure,--possessed
the minds of the people and embittered the hearts of those who were
striving to serve them. The leaders were blamed for the misfortunes
of the time, their ability doubted, their patriotism suspected.
Thus hampered and trammelled, weak, sick at heart, America stretched
out appealing hands to France.
CHAPTER VI
FRANCE IN THE REVOLUTION
The rebellion of the colonies had been long expected in France. As
early as 1750, Turgot, before the Sorbonne, had compared colonies to
fruits which only remain on the stem until they reach maturity, and
then drop off.
[Illustration: Vergennes.]
Vergennes, in conversation with an English traveller, had predicted:
"England will soon repent of having removed the only check that
can keep her colonies in awe. They stand no longer in need of her
protection. She will call upon them to contribute towards supporting
the burdens they have helped to bring on her. They will answer by
striking off all dependence."
France had excellent reasons for hating England. Her lilies had
gone down again and again before the British flag. Despoiled by
England of her American and Canadian possessions, dislodged from
her foothold in India, subjected to the espionage, and stung by
the arrogance of her enemy, her policy was directed toward one
object, the rehabilitation of her former glory at the expense of her
greatest rival.[18]
[18] Edwardes's "Translations of Lemonie," p. 259.
[Illustration: Beaumarchais.]
Louis the Sixteenth, young and pleasure-loving, was glad to
shift all responsibility upon his able advisers,--Maurepas,
whom he tolerated, Vergennes, whom he feared and respected, and
Beaumarchais, the son of a watchmaker, author of "Le Mariage de
Figaro" and "Le Barbier de Seville,"--whom he cordially admired and
loved, and who had probably more influence at court than all the
rest put together. These were the men with whom Deane and Franklin
labored, with varying result, for many years--sometimes thwarted
and discouraged, at others cheered by promises, and sustained by
substantial favors. Presents of money were given by France to
America, and her ports were open to American trading-vessels. But
England had a vigilant ambassador at the French court, watching
like a cat lest the plucky little mouse should venture too far. It
behooved the mouse to keep well in hiding. He could hope to gain an
advantage over his enemy by stealthy diplomacy only.
[Illustration: Silas Deane.]
France had, early in September, 1776, sent secret messengers to
America to ascertain the state of affairs and report to the court of
Versailles. Congress sent Silas Deane, Benjamin Franklin, and Arthur
Lee to plead the cause of the colonists at the French court, and
negotiate treaties with foreign powers.[19]
[19] Sparks's "Diplomatic Correspondence," Vol. I, p. 5.
[Illustration: Benjamin Franklin.]
Franklin, on being selected, had said to Dr. Rush, "I am old and
good for nothing, but, as store keepers say of their remnants
of cloth, I am but a fag-end, and you may have me for what you
please;"[20] but Franklin had strong personal reasons for hating
England. Accused once by the solicitor-general (Wedderburn, Lord
Loughborough) of stealing political letters, the latter had
arraigned him and poured upon his head all the vials of ministerial
wrath, branding him as a thief in the most fearful philippic ever
pronounced against man.[21] "Franklin stood," says Dr. Priestly,
"conspicuously erect during the harangue, and kept his countenance
as immovable as wood." He was dressed in a suit of Manchester
velvet, which he laid aside and never wore after the terrible
lashing of Lord Loughborough; but, "Seven years afterwards, on the
termination of the war, so triumphant to his own country, and so
humiliating to Britain, he signed the articles of Peace, being then
Ambassador at Paris, _dressed in the Manchester velvet_,"--once the
garment of heaviness and humiliation, now the royal robe of triumph!
[20] Parton's "Franklin," Vol. II, p. 166.
[21] "Lives of the Lord Chancellors of England," by Lord Campbell,
Vol. VI, pp. 110-111.
He became, fortunately, a toast at the French court. The statesman
who could write ballads and invent musical instruments possessed
a charming versatility which attracted the French. How versatile
he still could be, even in old age, is attested by the fact that
poets, philosophers, and men of fashion,--Vergennes, Voltaire,
Turgot,--nay, the queen herself, admired and sought him. Turgot
described him in a line which afterwards adorned the snuff-boxes,
medallions, and rings of the court. On these Franklin's head
appeared, with this legend, _Eripuit fulmen sceptrumque tyrannus_,
the dignified, old, unpowdered head, its thin hair concealed by
a fur cap, which yet had wisdom to guide the hand that "tore the
lightning from heaven and the sceptre from the tyrant!"
It was not designed by Providence that America should fail in her
contest. Rough-hewn as her methods must perforce be, they were given
shape by the hand that guides our ends. Every event here, every move
on the chess-board in France, tended to the same result. One of the
fifteen decisive battles of the world was fought at Saratoga. "The
Capitulation of General Burgoyne to Mr. Gates" (as the English in
their wrath expressed it) turned the tide of affairs. It resulted
immediately in the alliance with France, so long and ardently
desired, without which this country might not have won independence.
Of course, we sent post-haste to tell the good news of this victory
to our long-suffering envoy at the French court. The "Capitulation
to Mr. Gates" occurred Oct. 17, 1777; the news reached Franklin Dec.
4, of the same year--nearly two months afterward. But we are the
last people who should ever lament the want of telegraphic service
in our early history. Had such existed during the Revolution, we
would surely this day be sending our humble duty, with many gifts,
to our Gracious Sovereign, his Most Sacred Majesty, Edward VII, upon
his coronation. A polite ambassador would not be nearly sufficient.
[Illustration: General Burgoyne.]
When Benjamin Franklin received the news he was quietly dining,
not dreaming of any better fortune than that we should be able
to hold Philadelphia.[22] No more dramatic scene can be imagined
than that which took place on the evening of Dec. 4, 1777, when
Jonathan Austin's chaise rapidly drove into the courtyard at Passy
and rudely interrupted Dr. Franklin's dinner-party. The guests,
among whom were Beaumarchais, rushed out. "Sir," exclaimed Franklin,
"is Philadelphia taken?" "Yes, Sir," replied Austin; and Franklin
clasped his hands and turned to reënter the house. Austin cried, "I
have better and greater news; General Burgoyne and his whole army
are prisoners of war." Beaumarchais set out with all speed to notify
Vergennes, and he drove with such haste that his coach upset, and he
dislocated his arm.
[22] Morse's "Franklin," p. 267.
[Illustration: Rochambeau.]
It was not, however, until July 10, 1780, that Rochambeau wrote from
Newport to Washington: "We are now at your command. It is hardly
necessary for me to tell your Excellency that I bring sufficient
cash for whatever is needed by the King's army."
Lafayette was holding Cornwallis at Yorktown, having orders from
Washington that he was on no account to be permitted to escape.
In order to prevent this it was necessary to have the assistance
of the French fleet. To this end he despatched a frigate to Cape
Henry, where De Grasse was expected to touch, urging him to come
up Chesapeake Bay as soon as possible to clear the James River and
blockade the York. This word was received by De Grasse, who arrived
with his fleet of twenty-eight ships of the line in Chesapeake Bay
on Aug. 30, 1781.
[Illustration: De Grasse.]
The French forces then joined Washington in a rapid march to
Virginia, having made a feint of attacking New York, and thus
deceived Sir Henry Clinton. Well for us there were no railroads or
telegraph wires in those days! Washington and his allies were not
discovered until they were almost in front of Cornwallis.
The march through Philadelphia was a species of triumph. And now
who more ready than the Tory ladies to welcome and applaud! "The
windows were filled with ladies waving handkerchiefs and uttering
exclamations of joy. The ragged Continentals came first with their
torn battle-flags and cannon; and the French followed in gay white
uniforms faced with green to the sound of martial music. A long time
had passed since Philadelphia had seen such a pageant; the last
resembling it had been the splendid Mischianza festival, devised by
poor André in the days of the British occupation,"[23] and enjoyed,
alas, by these same ladies, while these same Continentals were
starving and perishing with cold!
[23] Irving's "Life of Washington."
They were equal to any situation, these Philadelphia ladies!
The first duty of woman, according to them, was to make herself
agreeable to the powers that be--the heroes of the hour. Said
Washington Irving, "The beauties who had crowned the British Knights
in the chivalrous time of the Mischianza, were now ready to bestow
wreaths and smiles on their Gallic rivals."
[Illustration: Lord Cornwallis.]
Fifteen days after the arrival of the allied forces successful
assaults were made upon the enemy's redoubts, Washington putting the
match to the first gun; and on Oct. 17, Cornwallis, after having
made unsuccessful efforts to relieve his position and to escape by
water, proposed a cessation of hostilities and the appointment of
commissioners to settle terms of surrender. On Oct. 19, in pursuance
of articles of capitulation, drawn by Vicomte de Noualles and
Colonel Laurens, representing the allies, and Colonel Dundas and
Major Ross, representing the British, Lord Cornwallis surrendered;
the English marching out to the tune, "The World's Turned Upside
Down,"--a fact which was, no doubt, accepted by the brave
Cornwallis as the only solution to the turn events had taken.
"The work is done and well done," said Washington as he heard the
long shout of the French and the Americans.
To Maurepas, in France, Lafayette wrote:--
"The play is over, Monsieur le Compte, the fifth act has just come
to an end."[24]
[24] Tower's "Lafayette," Vol. II, p. 455.
"It's all over now," said our old friend Lord North,[25] heartily
relieved, we may well believe, to be rid of all the bother.
[25] Bancroft, Vol. III, p. 430.
At midnight on Oct. 23, 1781, Philadelphia was startled by the cry,
"Cornwallis is taken." And on Oct. 24, on motion of Mr. Randolph, it
was resolved, "That Congress at 2 o'clock this day go in procession
to the Dutch Lutheran Church and return thanks to Almighty God
for crowning the allied arms of the United States and France with
success by the surrender of the whole British Army under the command
of the Earl of Cornwallis."[26]
[26] Journals of Congress, Vol. III, pp. 679-682.
But not with joy and gratitude was the news received by old Lord
Fairfax, who had given Washington his first opportunity in life.
He had liked the fifteen-year-old lad, had taught him to follow
the hounds, and been his cordial friend as long as he fought for
the Crown. Lord Fairfax, "the Nimrod of Greenway Court," was now
ninety-two years old. "When he heard," says the irrepressible Parson
Weems, "that Washington had captured Cornwallis and all his army, he
called to his black waiter: 'Come, Joe! Carry me to bed, for it is
high time for me to die.'"
"Then up rose Joe, all at the word
And took his master's arm.
And thus to bed he softly laid
The Lord of Greenway farm.
"There oft he called on Britain's name
And oft he wept full sore.
Then sighed, 'Thy will, O Lord, be done,'
And word spake never more."
The old Royalist's heart had broken with grief and disappointment.
But how was the aged mother to hear the news? Would her heart break
with the sudden access of joy?
Washington himself despatched a courier to her with the news of the
surrender. She raised her hands to heaven and exclaimed with the
deepest fervor:--
"Thank God! Thank God! All the fighting and killing is over. The war
is ended and now we shall have peace and happiness."
[Illustration: GREENWAY COURT.]
Mindful of her age her son would not come to her suddenly and
unheralded. He could not come immediately. He had to attend to
the distribution of ordnance and stores, the departure of prisoners,
the embarkation of troops, to say nothing of the courtesies of the
hour--such as the selection of two beautiful horses as a present to
De Grasse, who did not sail until Nov. 4. He was then summoned in
haste to Eltham, the seat of his old friend Colonel Bassett, there
to fold his tender arms around the dying form of Parke Custis and
receive his last breath. Years before, he had thus comforted the
sweet young sister, "Patsy Custis," in her last hour.
Martha Washington, the mother, and the wife and four children of
Parke Custis (who was only twenty-eight years old) were all at
Eltham, and with them Washington remained until the last tribute
of respect was paid to the deceased. And that he might comfort his
wife and help the young widow, he then and there adopted George
Washington Parke Custis and Nellie Custis into his family.
From Eltham he proceeded immediately on pressing business with
Congress at Philadelphia, and not until Nov. 11 did he reach
Fredericksburg.
CHAPTER VII
"ON WITH THE DANCE, LET JOY BE UNCONFINED"
That was a great day when the news came to
Fredericksburg--"Cornwallis has surrendered." "With red spurs" rode
the couriers that carried the glad tidings, and the hearts of the
people leaped with joy. Twenty-eight British captains had stepped
forth from the lines and surrendered as many colors to the ragged
Continentals. With instinctive magnanimity the conquerors had given
a banquet to their captive officers, and Washington had saluted
Cornwallis with a toast to the British army. Thus the brave honor
the brave. And now--courtesies all rendered, the sword sheathed,
the guns stacked--the great commander was coming home, first to
his mother, attended by a brilliant retinue of French and American
officers. When the soldier of his people laid his country's freedom
at his mother's feet, if ever in this world a foretaste of heavenly
joy be given to human beings, to Mary and George Washington alike
this was the hour. Says Mr. Custis:--
"After an absence of nearly seven years, it was, at length, on the
return of the combined armies from Yorktown, permitted to the
mother again to see and embrace her illustrious son. So soon as he
had dismounted, in the midst of a numerous and brilliant suite, he
sent to apprise her of his arrival, and to know when it would be
her pleasure to receive him. No pageantry of war proclaimed his
coming, no trumpets sounded, no banners waved. Alone and on foot,
the Marshal of France, the general-in-chief of the combined armies
of France and America, the deliverer of his country, the hero of the
age, repaired to pay his humble duty to her whom he venerated as
the author of his being, the founder of his fortune and his fame.
For full well he knew that the matron would not be moved by all the
pride that glory ever gave, nor by all the 'pomp and circumstance'
of power.
"The lady was alone, her aged hands employed in the works of
domestic industry, when the good news was announced; and it was
further told that the victor chief was in waiting at the threshold.
She welcomed him with a warm embrace, and by the well-remembered and
endearing name of his childhood; inquiring as to his health, she
remarked the lines which mighty cares and many trials had made on
his manly countenance, spoke much of old times and old friends, but
of his glory--not one word."
But old Fredericksburg tells a story so characteristic that we
are fain to accept it. Her neighbors had gathered at her door to
congratulate her; but before they spoke with her, an orderly dashed
up, dismounted, touched his three-cornered hat and said, "Madam! his
Excellency will be here within the hour." "_His Excellency!_ Tell
George I shall be glad to see him," replied the dame; and turning
to her wide-eyed ebony maid, she said, "Patsy, I shall need a white
apron."
[Illustration: George Washington Parke Custis.]
Old Fredericksburg threw its hat in the air and declared that the
"Indian Oueen" should be swept and garnished, and the Fredericksburg
beauties tread a measure with those gay foreigners. This thing
of "belonging to the country" was all very well, but George
Washington was a Virginian--what was more, he was master-mason in
the Fredericksburg Lodge No. 4, and a Fredericksburg boy out and
out. "But would Madam Washington come to a ball?" Ay, she would.
Her "dancing days were pretty well over," but she would "be glad to
contribute to the general happiness."
[Illustration: The Chair used by George Washington when Master of
Fredericksburg Lodge.]
But here we give place again to Mr. Custis, for he had his story at
first hands.
"Meantime, in the village of Fredericksburg, all was joy and
revelry; the town was crowded with the officers of the French and
American armies, and with gentlemen from all the country around, who
hastened to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis. The citizens made
arrangements for a splendid ball, to which the mother of Washington
was specially invited. She observed that, although her dancing days
were pretty well over, she should feel happy in contributing to the
general festivity, and consented to attend.
"The foreign officers were anxious to see the mother of their
chief. They had heard indistinct rumors respecting her remarkable
life and character; but, forming their judgments from European
examples, they were prepared to expect in the mother that glare and
show which would have been attached to the parents of the great in
the old world. How they were surprised when the matron, leaning on
the arm of her son, entered the room! She was arrayed in the very
plain, yet becoming, garb worn by the Virginian 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, observing that it was time for old people to be at home,
retired.
"The foreign officers were amazed to behold one so many causes
contributed to elevate, preserving the even tenor of her life,
while such a blaze of glory shone upon her name and offspring. The
European world furnished no examples of such magnanimity. Names of
ancient lore were heard to escape from their lips; and they observed
that, 'if such were the matrons of America, it was not wonderful the
sons were illustrious.'
"It was on this festive occasion that General Washington danced
a minuet with Mrs. Willis" (one of the Gregory girls). "It closed
his dancing days. The minuet was much in vogue at that period, and
was peculiarly calculated for the display of the splendid figure of
the chief and his natural grace and elegance of air and manner. The
gallant Frenchmen who were present--of which fine people it may be
said that dancing forms one of the elements of their existence--so
much admired the American performance as to admit that a Parisian
education could not have improved it. As the evening advanced,
the commander-in-chief, yielding to the gayety of the scene, went
down some dozen couples in the contra-dance, with great spirit and
satisfaction."
But General Washington's dancing days did not close with the
Fredericksburg ball. Mr. Custis did not know. Two years later
Lieutenant McAllister wrote from Baltimore: "A ball was given to his
most excellent Excellency by the ladies of this town. A brilliant
collection assembled to entertain him, and the illustrious Chief led
and mingled in the joyous dance."
The commanding general had perceived the wisdom of introducing into
the camp life some relaxation and amusement, as the Arctic explorer
arranged a series of theatricals when starvation threatened his
ice-locked crew. In the year and month in which Washington wrote his
most despairing letter to George Mason, there were frequent balls
in the camp at Middlebrook. "We had a little dance at my quarters,"
wrote General Greene to Colonel Wadsworth in March, 1779 (the dark
hour), "His Excellency and Mrs. Greene danced upwards of three hours
without once sitting down."
Bishop Meade, in his intense admiration of Washington and his not
less intense abhorrence of dancing, reasons that these reports of
the great chief _could_ not be true. They were undoubtedly true.
Washington, although habitually grave and thoughtful, was of a
social disposition, and loved cheerful society. He was fond of the
dance, and it was the boast of many Revolutionary dames that he had
been their partner in contra-dances, and had led them through the
stately figures of the minuet.
Little Maria Mortimer, aged sixteen, was at the Fredericksburg
ball. Betty Lewis followed the party later to Mount Vernon. For
Maria a great dignity was in store. Her father, Dr. Charles
Mortimer, issued invitations at the ball for a great dinner to the
distinguished strangers the next day but one, and his wife (Sarah
Griffin Fauntleroy), being too ill to preside, that honor fell to
the daughter of the house.[27]
[27] "Maternal Ancestry of Washington," by G. W. Ball.
The house, an immense pile of English brick, still stands on the
lower edge of the town, facing Main Street, with a garden sloping to
the river, where Dr. Mortimer's own tobacco ships used to run up
to discharge their return English cargoes by a channel long since
disused and filled up.
The mansion was hastily put _en fête_--which meant swept walks,
polished floors, and abundant decoration of flowers and evergreens.
The running cedar of Virginia, with its plumy tufts of green, lent
itself gracefully to outline doors and windows, encircle family
portraits, and hang in festoons from the antlers of the deer in the
hall.
The table, as little Maria described it in after years, groaned with
every delicacy of land and water, served in massive pewter dishes
polished until they shone again.
The chief sat beside the master of the house at the long table,
although at his own house his place was always at the side of the
table among his guests. Little Maria "with her hair craped high"
was taken in by the Marquis Lafayette, or Count d'Estaing, or Count
Rochambeau,--they were all present,--and the little lady's heart was
in her mouth, she said, although she danced with every one of them
at the ball--nay, with Betty Lewis's Uncle George himself!
To this dinner the doctor, of course, invited Mrs. Washington, but
equally, of course, she did not come, her appearance at the ball
having been an extraordinary effort intended to mark her sense of
the importance of the occasion which was intoxicating the whole
country with joy.
CHAPTER VIII
LAFAYETTE AND OUR FRENCH ALLIES
In 1784 the Marquis de Lafayette returned to Virginia "crowned
everywhere," wrote Washington to the Marchioness de Lafayette, "with
wreaths of love and respect." He made a visit to Mount Vernon, and
thence, before he sailed for France, he went to Fredericksburg
to pay his homage to the mother of Washington. A great crowd of
citizens and old soldiers thronged the town to do him honor. One
of the old soldiers from the country had heard much of a new
character who had followed the armies, and had lately appeared
in Virginia--active, prevalent, and most successful! This rustic
determined to see Lafayette, "pick-pocket" or no "pick-pocket." Had
he not two hands! One should never let go a firm grasp on the watch
in his own pocket. Finally he succeeded, after pressing through
the throng, in reaching the general. In his enthusiasm at being
greeted so warmly by the great marquis, he seized with both hands
Lafayette's friendly grasp, and as he turned away clapped his hand
upon his watch-pocket. It was empty! There is no doubt--not the
least--that the honest man never thought his honors too dearly
bought.
[Illustration: GENERAL LAFAYETTE.]
Escaping from all these good people so keenly and cordially enjoyed
by the warm-hearted marquis, he found Betty Washington's son to act
as sponsor and guide--lest he should have been forgotten!--to visit
the mother of his friend. He wished to pay his parting respects and
to ask her blessing.
"Accompanied by her grandson," says Mr. Custis, "he approached
the house; when the young gentleman observed, 'There, sir, is my
grandmother.' Lafayette beheld, working in the garden, clad in
domestic-made clothes, and her gray head covered in a plain straw
hat, the mother of his hero! The lady saluted him kindly, observing,
'Ah, Marquis! you see an old woman; but come, I can make you welcome
to my poor dwelling, without the parade of changing my dress.'
"The Marquis spoke of the happy effects of the Revolution, and the
goodly prospect which opened upon independent America; stated his
speedy departure for his native land; paid the tribute of his heart,
his love and admiration of her illustrious son. To the encomiums
which he had lavished upon his hero and paternal chief, the matron
replied in her accustomed words, 'I am not surprised at what George
has done, for he was always a very good boy.'
"In her latter days, the mother often spoke of 'her own good boy,'
of the merits of his early life, of his love and dutifulness to
herself; but of the deliverer of his country, the chief magistrate
of the great republic, she never spoke. Call you this insensibility?
or want of ambition? Oh, no! her ambition had been gratified to
overflowing. She had taught him to be good; that he became great
when the opportunity presented, was a consequence, not a cause."
Would that we could record naught but reward--long life, honor, and
happiness--to every one of our brave allies who came to us in our
extremity. But, alas! Fortune held in her closed hand these gifts
for some--for others disgrace, the dungeon, the guillotine!
Louis XVI was overjoyed at the _éclat_ won by the French arms in
America. When Rochambeau presented himself at court the young
king received him graciously, and said to him, "I have read in
the Commentaries of Cæsar that a small army, commanded by a great
general, can achieve wonders, and you are a proof of it."
Lafayette threw himself with ardor into the stirring military life
of his own country, and came back to us in 1824 to find his path
strewn with flowers by Daughters of the American Revolution; and
Daughters of the American Revolution but a few months ago crowned
his statue with the same laurels with which they crowned the adored
Washington!
Great riches and honor were heaped upon the Comte de Vergennes. He
was given a position which brought him an income of 60,000 francs.
Afterwards the Empress of Russia--as reward--made him Knight of
the Order of the Holy Ghost, with 100,000 francs! A serene, very
honorable and comfortable old age was Fortune's gift to our friend
Vergennes.
And Beaumarchais, who poured money into our empty treasury from
his own full horn-of-plenty,--Beaumarchais, the artist, dramatist,
politician, merchant, who set all Paris wild with his "Mariage
de Figaro," of whose wit and satire and mischievous subtlety our
translations give us no idea,--Beaumarchais must needs ruin himself
by spending 1,000,000 livres on a gorgeous _édition de luxe_ of
Voltaire, and yet more than that on French muskets. He died of "no
particular disease," say his biographers, "at sixty-nine years." So
Fortune for him had a long life and a merry one, and riches of which
he made a noble use.
We all know the fate of the pleasure-loving young king,--the husband
of the beautiful and accomplished Marie Antoinette! America,
perhaps, owes little to him,--but she remembers that little, and can
mourn for the bitter hour that ended his misguided life.
But ungrateful, indeed, would she be did she cease to remember
Marie Antoinette! Well may we call our beautiful buildings and
graceful fashions after her name. Many years after she had bent
her lovely head with such courage to the guillotine, Paine wrote,
"It is both justice and gratitude to say that it was the queen
of France who gave the cause of America a fashion at the French
Court." "_Dites-moi_," she had said in parting from Lafayette,
"_dites-moi de bonnes nouvelles de nos bons Americans, de nos cher
Republicans_," little dreaming, poor lady, that "she was giving the
last great impulse to that revolutionary spirit which was so soon to
lead her to misery and death."
For one more of the Frenchmen who served us--one who was a loyal
friend in the field and a traitor at the fireside--the stern Nemesis
holds a strange immortality. The secret manuscript which for one
hundred and twenty-five years has passed from hand to hand among
Virginia women; which was known to and partially quoted by Bishop
Meade; which is known to-day by many who gave, like him, a promise
never to print the whole of it, contains the story of a young
nobleman's infamy--told that he may be execrated by women, the names
implicated kept from publication that the innocent descendants may
not suffer. "_Sed quid ego hæc nequicquam ingrata revolvo?_ It is
vain to lament that corruption which no human power can prevent or
repair."
CHAPTER IX
IN CAMP AND AT MOUNT VERNON
Peace was not declared until March 3, 1783. In the meanwhile the
armies must be kept in camp, regularly drilled, and ready at a
moment's notice for action. The American army was encamped at
Verplanck's Point; that of Count de Rochambeau--alas, for the
honor and peace of one household!--at Williamsburg. The brilliant
campaign in Virginia attracted immense interest abroad. Every ship
brought strangers to visit the camp,--artists, writers, military
men. Washington begins to be sensitive about our meagre facilities
for entertaining these visitors. "We have nothing to offer," he
deplores, "except whisky hot from the still,--and not always
that,--and meat with no vegetables," etc. There was always plenty of
Virginia hickory nuts! They appeared at every meal. They saved many
a day and redeemed many a slender breakfast, dinner, and supper. The
commander-in-chief seems to have striven to make them fashionable by
devoting himself to their consumption.
M. de Broglie came to Virginia in 1782, bearing letters of
introduction to General Washington from Benjamin Franklin,--letters
"rendered doubly agreeable," said the general, "by the pleasure
I had in receiving them from the hands of such an amiable and
accomplished young gentleman." M. de Broglie kept a journal which
found its way to the columns of the _Courier des États Unis_, and
was translated by a Boston literary journal. The impression made
upon this "amiable and accomplished young gentleman" presents an
interesting portrait of Washington in the year succeeding the
surrender, and also permits our curtain to fall upon a charming
picture of the ancestors of the sons and daughters of the American
Revolution.
M. de Broglie says: "I found the American Army encamped in a place
called Verplanck's Point. There were six thousand men who, for the
first time during the war, were well armed, well drilled, well
kept, and camped under tents of a regular form. I passed along its
front with pleasure, astonishment and admiration. All the soldiers
appeared to me fine, robust and well chosen. The sentinels well
kept, extremely attentive, and sufficiently well placed under arms,
contrasted so completely with the crude idea I had formed of these
troops, that I was obliged to repeat to myself several times that I
was indeed seeing this army that formerly had no other uniform than
a cap upon which was written 'Liberty.'
"I pressed M. de Rochambeau, who received me with kindness, to
add that of making me acquainted with Washington. He assented;
and the day after my arrival, he went with me to dine with this
famous man. I gave him a letter from my father; and, after a slight
'_shake hand_,' he was kind enough to say a thousand flatteries and
polite things to me. Here is his portrait, which I have formed from
what I have been able to see of him for myself, and from what the
conversations which I have had with regard to him, have taught me:--
"The General is about forty-nine years of age; he is large, finely
made, very well proportioned. His figure is much more pleasing than
the picture represents it. He was fine looking until within about
three years; and, although those who have been constantly with him
since that time say that he seems to them to have grown old fast, it
is undeniable that the General is still fresh, and active as a young
man.
"His physiognomy is pleasant and open; his address is cold, though
polite; his pensive eye is more attentive than sparkling; but his
countenance is kind, noble and composed. He maintains, in his
private deportment, that polite and attentive manner which does
not offend. He is the enemy of ostentation and vain-glory. His
manners are always equable; he has never shown the least temper.
Modest even to humility, he seems not to estimate himself duly; he
receives with good grace the deference paid to him, but rather
shuns than courts it. His society is agreeable and pleasing. Always
serious, never constrained; always simple, always free and affable,
without being familiar, the respect which he inspires never becomes
painful. He talks little in general, and in a very low tone of
voice; but he is so attentive to what is said to him, that you
are satisfied that he understands you, and are almost willing to
dispense with a reply. This conduct has often been of advantage to
him in various circumstances; no one has more occasion than he to
use circumspection, and to weigh well his words. He unites to an
unalterable tranquillity of soul, a fine power of judgment; and one
can seldom reproach him for a little slowness in determination, or
even in acting, when he has formed his decision. His courage is calm
and brilliant. An excellent patriot, a wise, virtuous man--one is
tempted to grant him all qualities, even those which circumstances
have not permitted him to develop. Never was there a man more fitted
to lead the Americans nor one who has evinced in his conduct more
consistency, wisdom, constancy and reason.
"Mr. Washington has never received any compensation as General; he
has refused such, as not needing it. The expenses of his table are
alone made at the expense of the State. He has every day as many as
thirty people at dinner, gives good military receptions, and is
very attentive to all the officers whom he admits to his table. It
is, in general, the moment of the day when he is most gay.
"At dessert, he makes an enormous consumption of nuts, and, when
the conversation amuses him, he eats them for two hours, 'drinking
healths,' according to the English and American custom, several
times. This is called _toasting_. They begin always by drinking to
the United States of America; afterwards to the King of France, to
the Queen, and success to the arms of the combined army. Then is
given, sometimes, what is called a sentiment; for example, 'To our
success with our enemies and the ladies!' 'Success in war and love!'
"I have _toasted_ several times with General Washington. On one
occasion I proposed to him to drink to the Marquis de Lafayette,
whom he looked upon as a son. He accepted with a smile of
benevolence, and had the politeness to propose to me in return that
of my father and wife.
"Mr. Washington appears to me to keep up a perfect bearing towards
the officers of his army; he treats them very politely, but they are
far from growing familiar with him; they all wear, on the contrary,
in presence of this General, an air of respect, confidence and
admiration."
For two years after the surrender, General Washington was confined
to the routine of camp life. We read of no visits to Fredericksburg
or to Mount Vernon. If he made them, they were brief and uneventful.
His mother lived quietly in her new home, never fulfilling her
intention of returning to "Pine Grove" across the river. She was
now seventy-eight years old, but remembered by the children of her
old neighbors as bright, active, and alert--keenly interested in
everything around her. Charming granddaughters were growing up in
Betty Lewis's "Kenmore" home. One of these--doubtless our "little
Betty,"--accompanied General and Mrs. Washington on their joyful
return home to Mount Vernon from Annapolis, whither the general had
gone to resign his commission. Mr. Lossing has preserved a letter
from little Miss Lewis:--
"I must tell you what a charming day I spent at Mt. Vernon with
Mama and Sally. The General and Madame came home at Christmas
Eve, and such a racket the servants made! They were glad of their
coming. Three handsome young officers came with them. All Christmas
afternoon people came to pay their respects and duty. Among these
were stately dames and gay young women. The General seemed very
happy and Mrs. Washington was up before daybreak making everything
as agreeable as possible for everybody. Among the most notable
callers was Mr. George Mason of Gunston Hall, who brought a charming
granddaughter with him about fourteen years old. He is said to be
one of the greatest statesmen and wisest men in Virginia. We had
heard much of him, and were delighted to look in his face, hear him
speak, and take his hand which he offered in a courtly manner. He
has a grand head and clear gray eyes--is straight, but not tall, and
has few white hairs, though they say he is about sixty years old."
The little hero-worshipper! And so reverent to her illustrious uncle
and his wife, with no underbred, familiar claiming of kinship with
"the General and Madame."
Even before peace was declared, our French allies circulated large
sums of gold and silver coin, which put to flight the wretched paper
currency of our country, and in an incredibly short time quantities
of French and English goods were imported. "Our people," laments
an old writer, "suddenly laid aside their plain, home-manufactured
clothing. Fine ruffles, powdered heads, silks and scarlets decorated
the men, while the most costly silks, satins, chintzes, calicoes and
muslins decorated our females. Superb plate, foreign spirits, and
wines, sparkled on the sideboards, and as a necessary consequence
the people ran in debt, and money was hard to raise."
General Washington's family resumed their old-time habits of living.
They rose early, breakfasted at half-past seven, dined frugally at
two, retired early. "Those who come to see me," said the general,
"will always find a bit of mutton and a glass of wine. If they
expect anything more, they will be disappointed." Mary Washington
and the mistress of Mount Vernon never laid aside their simple
customs, dress, and occupations. They seemed to have formed, said
Washington Irving, "an inveterate habit of knitting" in and out
of the drawing-room. Walking about her garden, Mary Washington's
fingers held the flying needles. The results were sent to somebody
less fortunate than herself. Martha Washington kept up her
"inveterate habit" long after she became the first lady in the land,
presenting unfinished gloves of her own knitting to her friends to
"finish and wear for my sake," thus delicately suggesting a plan by
which the gift could be rendered more valuable, and at the same time
inspiring her gay young visitors with something of her own spirit of
industry.
Inestimable to women is the value of such occupation! For them
the curse has been transmuted into a golden blessing. There could
have been no necessity for Mary and Martha Washington to employ
themselves so diligently in sewing and knitting. The hands were
numerous enough around them among the negroes and humbler classes
for all such work. But they held an old-fashioned creed: that the
human hand--that wonderful mechanism--was created for some useful
purpose! In their day the hand had not claimed for its beauty the
cunning skill of the "artist manicure." The instructed hand made
laces, and manipulated the spinet and harp, but it made garments
as well. Let none call the love of needlework useless--its results
not worth the while! Knitting may not be the highest use for one's
beautiful hands, but it surely ranks with the highest when it
ministers to those who suffer! And even as an innocent occupation
it is not to be despised. All such work is better than dull
vacuity or lack of interest in domestic life. A passion for such
things is not the worst passion that can possess a woman's soul.
Besides, needlework is an admirable sedative to the nerves. Mary
Washington's knitting helped to relieve her mind of its tension when
circumstances seemed so unfortunate and discouraging. Perhaps the
Queen of Scots sometimes forgot the uncertain tenure by which she
held her beautiful head because she had a passion for embroidery and
was, every day, expecting new flosses and filoselles from France to
finish something very lovely which she had commenced.
But knitting was not with Mary Washington and her daughters a
matter of sentiment or resorted to as a nerve cure. It was simply
the natural expression of pure benevolence. There was no money to
buy--nothing imported to be bought. The destitution of the soldiers
pressed heavily upon the hearts of these good women. Constantly
employed every moment of their waking hours, they might hope
to achieve something to add to that "cap upon which was written
'Liberty.'" The Phrygian cap might indeed protect the fervid brain
of the patriot, but could in no wise comfort his weary feet!
American women have never failed in time of war to give the work
of their own hands. With the wife of another Virginia commander,
Mary Custis Lee, knitting was as inveterate a habit in the time of
America's Civil War as it was with her great-grandmother, Martha
Washington, in the war of the American Revolution.
Many were the soldiers who were comforted in body and heartened in
spirit by the gifts of these noble women--all the more because they
were wrought by their own gentle hands.
CHAPTER X
MRS. ADAMS AT THE COURT OF ST. JAMES
Mary Washington lived long enough to witness the crowning
triumph of the colonies, when the proud country that had sought
their subjugation was compelled to receive at its Court their
accredited Minister. In 1785 John Adams of Massachusetts was
chosen for this delicate position. He had nominated Washington for
Commander-in-chief of the Colonial troops, he had belonged to the
committee which reported the immortal Declaration of Independence,
he had been sent in 1777 as commissioner to the Court of Versailles.
Moreover, he was the husband of the accomplished, patriotic Abigail
Adams,--"a woman of fine personal appearance, good education and
noble powers of mind." A fitting pair this to represent the new land
that had just won a place among the nations!
In the drawing-rooms of the late queen--the arbiter of social
usage for nearly a century--Majesty stood upon a raised platform
surrounded by the lights, larger or lesser, of her court. A few
ladies only were admitted at a time. These might not clasp the
outstretched hand of Majesty. On the _back_ of their hands her own
was laid for an instant, and something like a butterfly touch of
the lips was permitted. Then to the long line of lesser stars were
courtesies rendered, and the "presented" lady passed on and out.
[Illustration: John Adams.]
Not so did George the Third and his queen receive. Their guests were
assembled in the drawing-room, and the king, accompanied by Lord
Onslow, passed around first; the queen, as much as two hours later,
made her rounds in a similar fashion.
Mrs. Adams wrote to her sister a description of the first
drawing-room attended by the first American Minister to the Court
of St. James. The company assembled in silence. The king went
around to every person--finding small talk enough to speak to them
all--"prudently speaking in a whisper so that only the person
next you can hear what is said." King George, Mrs. Adams thought,
was "a personable man," but she did not admire his red face and
white eyebrows. When he came to her, and Lord Onslow said, "Mrs.
Adams," she hastily drew off her right-hand glove; but to her
amazement the king stooped and kissed her on her left cheek! There
was an embarrassed moment--for Royalty must always begin and end a
conversation. George the Third found only this to say:--
"Madam, have you taken a walk to-day?"
"No, Sire."
"Why? Don't you love walking?"
Her impulse was to tell him frankly that all the morning had been
given to attiring herself to wait upon him, but she informed him
only that she was "rather indolent in that respect," upon which he
allowed her the last word, bowed, and passed on. In about two hours
it was Mrs. Adams's turn to be presented to the queen. "The queen,"
she writes, "was evidently embarrassed. I had disagreeable feelings,
too. She, however, said: 'Mrs. Adams, have you got into your house?
Pray, how do you like the situation of it?'" She, too, yielded the
last word, passing on after an earnest assurance that the American
lady had nothing to complain of. "She was in purple and silver,"
said Mrs. Adams in her letter to her sister. "She is not well-shaped
nor handsome. As to the ladies of the Court, rank and title may
compensate for want of personal charm, but they are in general very
plain, ill-shaped and ugly--but don't you tell anybody that I said
so!"
From the letter of our Minister's wife, we perceive that fashions
in dress had not changed materially since the days when Jenny
Washington, Betsy Lee, and Aphia Fauntleroy danced in Westmoreland.
The classic David had not yet laid down his stern laws. The train
was still looped over an ornate petticoat, and all supported by
an enormous hoop; the hair still "craped high," surmounted with
feathers, flowers, lace, and gauze. Mrs. Adams, when all ready
to set forth to the drawing-room, found time while waiting for
her daughter to describe the presentation gowns to her sister in
Massachusetts:--
"My head is dressed for St. James, and in my opinion looks very
tasty. Whilst my daughter is undergoing the same operation I set
myself down composedly to write you a few lines. I directed my
manteau-maker to let my dress be elegant, but plain as I could
possibly appear with decency. Accordingly it is white lutestring
covered and full-trimmed with white crape festooned with lilac
ribbon and mock point lace, over a hoop of enormous extent. There
is only a narrow train of about three yards in length to the gown
waist, which is put into a ribbon upon the left side, the Queen only
having her train borne. Ruffle cuffs for married ladies, a very
dress cap with long lace lappets, two white plumes and a blond-lace
handkerchief. This is my rigging. I should have mentioned two pearl
pins in my hair, earrings and necklace of the same kind.
"Well, methinks I hear Betsy and Lucy say, 'What is cousin's dress?'
White, my dear girls, like your aunt's, only differently trimmed and
ornamented, her train being wholly of white crape and trimmed with
white ribbon; the petticoat, which is the most showy part of the
dress, covered and drawn up in what are called festoons, with light
wreaths of beautiful flowers; the sleeves white crape, drawn over
the silk with a row of lace around the sleeve near the shoulder,
another half-way down the arm, and a third upon the top of the
ruffle, a little flower stuck between; a kind of hat cap with three
large feathers and a bunch of flowers; a wreath of flowers upon
the hair. Thus equipped we go in our own carriage, and Mr. Adams
and Colonel Smith in his. But I must quit the pen in order for the
ceremony which begins at 2 o'clock."
Mrs. Adams was not one whit "flustered" or nervous on this
occasion--unique from the circumstances attending it. The
embarrassment was all on the part of Royalty. Very sustaining must
be the consciousness of belonging to the victorious party!
CHAPTER XI
THE FIRST WINTER AT MOUNT VERNON
Washington Irving speaks of the first winter at Mount Vernon as
being of such intense cold that "General Washington could not
travel through the snows even as far as Fredericksburg to visit
his aged mother." General Dabney H. Maury, in his "Recollections
of a Virginian," says: "After Washington's military career ended
he used to go frequently to Fredericksburg to visit his venerable
mother, and his arrival was the occasion of great conviviality and
rejoicing. Dinner parties and card parties were then in order,
and we find in that wonderful record of his daily receipts and
expenditures that on one of these occasions he won thirty guineas at
Lop-loo! Probably it was after this night that he threw the historic
dollar across the river, the only instance of extravagance ever
charged against him." A dinner-party was usually given to him on his
arrival at the old "Indian Queen" tavern. On these visits Washington
laid aside his state, and--near his boyhood's home--was a boy again.
Judge Brooke, for many years chief justice of Virginia, who had
served as an officer in the legion of "Light-horse Harry," used
to tell of having frequently met Washington on his visits to
Fredericksburg after the Revolutionary War, and how "hilarious" the
general was on those occasions with "Jack Willis and other friends
of his young days." Judge Brooke remembered one dinner given to
Washington at the "Indian Queen" tavern at which he was present. "A
British officer sang a comic song. Washington laughed till the tears
rolled down his cheeks, and called upon the singer to repeat it."
"Light-horse Harry" Lee was always a great favorite in the
Washington family. He was, perhaps, the only person outside of
it "never under the influence"--according to Irving--"of that
reverential awe" which Washington is said to have inspired. His
summer home "Chatham" adjoined Mary Washington's Stafford farm;
he was often in Fredericksburg at the "Indian Queen" banquets.
Nobody could take such liberties with the great man. The son of his
"Lowland Beauty" stepped right into the place she had left vacant.
The general one day asked "Light-horse Harry" if he knew where he
could get a good pair of carriage horses.
"I have a fine pair, general--but _you_ can't get them."
"Why not?"
"Because," said the saucy young soldier, "you will never pay more
than half price for anything, and I must have full price for my
horses."
Silence--broken at last by the bantering laugh of a pet parrot caged
near them. The general took the assault upon his dignity in great
good part. "Ah, Lee, you are a funny fellow!" said he; "even the
birds laugh at you!"
"But," adds Irving, "hearty laughter was rare with Washington. The
sudden explosions we read of were the result of some ludicrous
surprise."
Still we do read of this rare laughter--this willing yielding to
merriment--on the occasions of his visits to his mother.
All of which goes to prove, first, that Washington did not, as has
been charged, neglect to visit her during the four intervening
years between the declaration of peace and his own appointment
to the Presidency, and, secondly, that these were happy visits,
notwithstanding his mother's age and infirmities--happy for her,
otherwise, they could not have been happy for him.
It is not the purpose of the compiler of this story of Mary
Washington and her times to answer all of the witless charges that
thoughtless--we will not say malignant--persons have made regarding
Washington's relations with his mother; but one of these stories
found its way to the columns of a newspaper, and perhaps we may
check its echo, now going on from lip to lip, to the effect that
after he became President, Washington _denied_ to his mother a home
in his temporary residence. He entered that residence late in the
spring of 1789. His mother died in August of that year. She was ill
when he parted from her, and he was prostrated for many weeks with
a malignant carbuncle. He was not recovered when she died; he could
not go to her. It is not possible that she wished to exchange the
repose of her own home and the ministrations of her loved physician
and only daughter for the stirring life of a noisy metropolis.
And as for her noble son--if the splendor of his record be more
than the eyes of his critics can bear, they are at liberty to veil
it for their own comfort by the mists of their own imaginings. They
will never persuade the world that the purest and best man this
country ever saw could be capable of neglecting an aged and infirm
woman--and that woman the mother who bore him, and to whom he owed
all that made him greater than his fellows.
I should doubt the authenticity of any letter, tending to lower our
estimation of Washington's character. William Smyth of Cambridge
University, England, in his "Lectures on History" (Lecture 34,
p. 436), warns us that _one_ volume of "Washington's Letters" is
spurious and not to be respected. I have not seen this assertion of
Smyth's repeated, but he could not have made it without authority.
As to the neglect of his mother during the last five years of his
life--a charge that has been made more than once--there can be
no foundation whatever. He never realized his dream of rest and
leisure. The one ice-bound winter succeeding the declaration of
peace was his only moment of repose. He found his own affairs much
involved--so much so that Congress wished to aid him in restoring
them. But he refused to accept any gift or any compensation for his
eight years of service. He complained of the enormous burden of the
letters he must answer. He found small time for the arboricultural
pursuits in which he was so much interested. Hardly had he planted
his balsams, ivies, and ornamental trees of various kinds, when
trouble in the country claimed his attention. He writes of his
longing for privacy and leisure, and remembers that his time to
enjoy them must be short. Still he plants "elms, ash, white-thorn,
maples, mulberries, horse-chestnuts, willows and lilacs," and writes
that his trees grow fast, as if they knew him to be getting old and
must make haste if they wish ever to shelter him!
All this was brought to an end by the very serious discords in the
country as to the Constitution adopted by the Confederation of
States. The story of these discords is a long one, and has been
ably told elsewhere. Washington's feelings were intensely excited
by the news that the insurgents of Massachusetts had exhibited such
violence that the chief magistrate had called out the militia of the
state to support the Constitution. "Good God!" he exclaims, "who
besides a Tory or a Briton could have predicted this? It was but the
other day we were shedding our blood to obtain the constitutions
under which we now live,--constitutions of our own choice and
making,--and now we are unsheathing the sword to overturn them. If
any man had told me this three years since, I should have thought
him a bedlamite, a fit subject for a mad house!"
The troubles ended in a call for another convention of which he
was, reluctantly, compelled to accept the place of delegate. To
serve intelligently he went into a course of study of the history of
ancient and modern confederacies, and has left among his papers an
abstract of their merits and defects. He must now learn a new trade!
He must become a wise and learned statesman.
One can easily see the impossibility of long and frequent visits
to his mother at Fredericksburg. The man was bound, hand and foot.
He longed for repose, and at first rebelled against further public
duty. "Having had some part in bringing the ship into port," he
said, "and having been fairly discharged, it is not my business to
embark again upon a sea of troubles."
The country ordered otherwise. There was a quarrel in the family,
and a serious one, and the "Father of his Country" must help to
settle it.
Virginia had done what she could. She was rich and powerful, and
the weaker states reckoned themselves at a disadvantage beside her.
Virginia was the foremost advocate for equality and union, and was
willing to make sacrifices to secure it.
She nobly surrendered to the Federal government a great
principality. All the country beyond the Ohio, now forming the
states of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, belonged to Virginia. Says
Esten Cooke: "Her right to it rested upon as firm a basis as the
right of any other Commonwealth to its own domain, and if there was
any question of the Virginia title by charter, she could assert her
right by conquest. The region had been wrested from the British by a
Virginian commanding Virginia troops; the people had taken 'The oath
of allegiance to the Commonwealth of Virginia,' and her title to the
entire territory was indisputable.
"These rights she now relinquished, and her action was the result of
an enlarged patriotism and devotion to the cause of Union."
Thus she aided in the settlement of the questions before the great
Convention of 1788, of which Washington was made President. All the
great men of the country were present at this convention, and the
result was that the Constitution of the United States went into
operation, and Washington was elected President by a unanimous vote.
In the face of these vital matters _no_ one--certainly not his
brave, good, reasonable mother--could blame him that the hours of
the days were all too short for the great work he had to do.
CHAPTER XII
THE PRESIDENT AND HIS LAST VISIT TO HIS MOTHER
Once more, and once only, do we hear of Mary Washington in
connection with her son. We read that her home filled her time
and heart; that she, like her son, sowed and planted, arranging
her garden as the seasons succeeded each other, delighting in her
personal work therein. Who can measure the charm, to a woman, of
even a small garden! How often has she not "heard the voice of the
Lord walking in the garden in the cool of the day!" She was born
in a garden. Her first perception of beauty was awakened by her
flowers. With these for companionship, who can be utterly wretched?
Not all unhappy was the prisoner, after his "Picciola" had cleft the
stone masonry of his dungeon!
We love to think of Mary Washington in the old garden! Nowhere so
sweetly, so gently, can a wearied body fulfil its day, until God
wills the release of the soul.
On the 14th of April, 1789, Washington received at Mount Vernon
official intelligence that he had been chosen President of the
United States. He at once prepared to go to New York and enter
upon the duties of his office, but before doing so he set out on
the evening of the same day, mounted on his horse and attended
by his favorite body-servant, Billy Lee, to visit his mother in
Fredericksburg. He found her feeble in body but bright-minded and
cheerful, and he informed her that he had been elected President,
and had come to bid her an affectionate farewell before assuming
his office. "So soon," he said, "as the public business which must
necessarily be encountered in arranging a new government can be
disposed of, I shall hasten to Virginia"--but here she interrupted
him and said: "You will see me no more. Age and disease warn me that
I shall not be long in this world. I trust in God I am somewhat
prepared for a better. But go; fulfil the high destinies which
Heaven appears to assign you; go, and may Heaven's and your mother's
blessing be with you always." This was the last meeting between the
mother and the son.
But that her heart followed him through the marvellous events of the
next few weeks none can doubt. They helped her to ignore the shadow
hanging over her. She was cheerful, strong, and uncomplaining.
She decided to make two visits,--one to the family of Charles and
the other to the widow and orphan children of Samuel Washington.
The families met together to talk gratefully and affectionately of
the illustrious one whom the country was loading with honors. He
had left Mount Vernon on the 16th of April. An entry in his diary
records his feelings. "I bade adieu to Mount Vernon and domestic
felicity and with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful
sensations than I can express, set out for New York with the best
disposition to render service to my country in obedience to its
call, but with less hope of answering its expectations."
To his friend, General Knox, he wrote: "Integrity and firmness
are all I can promise. These, be my voyage long or short, shall
never forsake me, although I may be deserted by all men; for of
the consolations which are to be derived from these under any
circumstances, the world cannot deprive me."
This was the spirit in which he met the extraordinary honors which
awaited him. "His progress to the seat of government was a continual
ovation. The ringing of bells and roaring of cannonry proclaimed
his course through the country. The old and young, women and
children, thronged the highways to welcome him." Governors met him
at the frontiers of their respective states. Cavalry assembled to
escort him. The throngs gathered as he advanced until a mighty host
followed him. Arches of flowers and evergreens, and triumphal arches
of laurel, spanned the paths he travelled. When he reached the banks
of the Delaware he must have recalled that midnight passage over
the ice-bound river at Christmas,--a representation of which hangs
in almost every humble hostelry in the country. How different his
feelings then and now! Over the stream which flows through Trenton a
bridge was decked with laurel, with the inscription, "The Defenders
of the Mothers will be the Protectors of the Daughters." The matrons
were there; and the young girls, crowned with garlands, strewed his
way with flowers, singing of their love and gratitude. No king on
his way to coronation ever received such a heartfelt ovation!
[Illustration: Washington's Reception at Trenton.]
And so--on and on--until at Elizabeth Point he entered the barge
with white satin canopy, which was to bring him to New York. Parties
of ladies and gentlemen followed the barge singing pæans of welcome.
In his diary that night he records, "The display of boats, the
songs, the instrumental music, the decorations of the ships, the
roar of cannon, the loud acclamations filled my mind with sensations
as painful (considering the reverse of this scene which may be the
case after all my labors to do good) as they are pleasing."
For, after all, he was a sad man. He had surrendered his soldier's
dream of home and peace. He had parted with his aged mother,
and knew that he could not minister to her in her last few
months of life. He was too great a man to permit such things as
these--applause, laurel, songs, salvos of artillery--to fill his
heart or even his imagination with pleasure.
She heard it all! Doubtless her mental commentary was her old
refrain: "This is too much praise! George has only done his duty."
The world still shares--still marvels at--the worship of Washington
then and now. As Lecky says, "He entered the scene as only a
conspicuous member of the planter aristocracy, his mind not quick
or original, no brilliancy of wit, entirely without the gift of
eloquence, with few accomplishments, no language except his own,
nothing to dazzle or overpower." Moreover, he had not a university
training at home or abroad, and no foreign travel to enlarge his
vision. His was the splendid triumph of _character_--character
inherited and fostered in the formative years of his life by a
faithful mother. No one can read the just eulogy of the accomplished
nineteenth-century English writer, without perceiving the close
resemblance--in temperament and character--between the two.
"Those who knew him noticed that he had keen sensibilities and
strong passions; but his power of self-command never failed him,
and no act of his life can be traced to personal caprice, ambition
or resentment. In the despondency of long-continued failure, in
the elation of sudden success, at times when the soldiers were
deserting by hundreds and malignant plots were formed against his
reputation, amid the constant quarrels, rivalries and jealousies of
his subordinates, in the dark hour of national ingratitude and in
the midst of the most intoxicating flattery, he was always the same
calm, wise, just and single-minded man, pursuing the cause which he
believed to be right without fear or favour or fanaticism."
In short, he triumphed over all through the strength of a character,
firm as a rock, which no storm could shake or dislodge. The English
writer himself marvels at the unchallenged worship of the world, and
he thus explains it. "He was in the highest sense a gentleman and a
man of honour. It was always known by his friends, and it was soon
acknowledged by the nation and by the English themselves, that in
Washington, America had found a leader who could be induced by no
earthly motive to tell a falsehood or to break an engagement or to
commit a dishonourable act."
Whatever may be the deep, underlying cause of the idolatry of the
American people, it certainly inspires all classes of men. He is the
star to which all eyes gratefully turn--the wise and unlettered,
rich and poor. Other heroes are, and deserve to be, admitted into
their hearts: but they jealously hold for him the chiefest, holiest
place.
"See here, do you expect to get to heaven?" was asked of a
peculiarly profane lad--a "hard case"--who indignantly answered:
"Course I do! Don't you suppose I want to see General Washington?"
CHAPTER XIII
MARY WASHINGTON'S WILL; HER ILLNESS AND DEATH
Mary Washington made her will only a year before her death,
stating therein that she was "in good health." This was one of the
years, during which it has been asserted that she was not only
neglected by her son but that they were estranged because of her
Tory principles! Besides a few small bequests to her daughter and
grandchildren, "desiring their acceptance thereof as all the token
I now have to give them," she leaves _all_ her estate "to my Son
General George Washington," also--that crowning pride of the early
Englishwoman--her best bed, bedstead, curtains, quilt, and other
bed furniture. Long after the Englishwoman had lived in Virginia
she held her bed in the highest esteem, and always made special
mention of it in her will. She came from the land where, from
ancient days, the bed was the most important feature in the whole
house--made of feathers and adorned with tapestry or with velvets
or with "cloth of gold, or miniver." In the "pane" (the forerunner
of our "counterpane"--from _contre-pointe_--adorned with "drawn
thread lattice work") the ambition of the housewife centred, and was
indulged. When Lafayette desired to make a handsome present to Dr.
Galt of Williamsburg, who had entertained him, he sent from France
a set of velvet bed curtains, dark blue with ornate figuring of
gold, quite the handsomest of the textile fabrics exhibited at our
Centennial in New York City.
Mary Washington bequeathed the articles in which she had most pride
to her "Son General George Washington." She was then, May, 1788,
"in good health." It appears, from an old letter, she once fell
at her door-step and hurt her arm. Perhaps then she also wounded
her breast, in which a cancerous growth appeared not long before
her death. In those days the medical and surgical sciences were
all wrong, if we may believe them to be now all right. A New York
writer had said that more lives had been destroyed in that city by
physicians than by all other causes whatever.
Virginians at the school of medicine in Edinburgh had organized
themselves, a few years before, into a Virginia Society "for the
protection of the profession against quacks and imposters who
had degraded the profession by mingling with it the trade of an
apothecary or surgeon!" An eloquent petition is preserved addressed
"To the Honourable the Council of Virginia and House of Burgesses,"
entreating that "laws be passed forbidding the intrusion of
pretenders into the domain of the authorized practitioner, thereby
dishonouring the profession itself and destroying mankind." We can
imagine the enormities committed by the quacks and imposters when
we observe the methods of the legitimate practitioner. When a man
or woman sickened, the doctors sped the parting guest,--taking
from him his very life-blood, by cupping, leeching, bleeding, and
reducing his strength by blistering and drenching. Nature was
sometimes strong enough to give battle to doctor and disease, and
even to win a victory over their combined forces. But in old age
Nature prudently retired without a struggle. We hope much for
Mary Washington from the gentle ministration of Betty Lewis and
the indulgent kindness of good Dr. Charles Mortimer, also Betty
Lewis's own testimony, one month before the end, of her patience and
resignation. The last word from her lips reveals no earthly wish
save the desire to hear from her son's "own hand that he is well."
August 25, 1789, she was released from sufferings which had been
borne with unfaltering faith and fortitude; and on the 27th of that
month she was laid to rest in the spot she had herself chosen as
her last resting-place, and over which her monument, erected by the
women of America, now stands.
The President did not learn of her death--in that day of
post-riders--until the 1st of September. It was announced to him by
his kinsman Colonel Burgess Ball.
On September 13, he wrote to his sister, Mrs. Betty Lewis, as
follows:--
"MY DEAR SISTER: Colonel Ball's letter gave me the first
account of my Mother's death. Since that I have received Mrs.
Carter's[28] letter, written at your request, and previous to
both. I was prepared for the event by advices of her illness
coming to your son Robert.
"Awful and affecting as the death of a parent is, there is
consolation in knowing that Heaven has spared ours to an age
beyond which few attain, and favored her with the full enjoyment
of her mental faculties and as much bodily strength as usually
falls to the lot of four score.
"When I was last in Fredericksburg I took a final leave of her,
never expecting to see her more....
"Your affectionate brother,
"GEORGE WASHINGTON."
[28] Mrs. Charles Carter, his niece, Betty Lewis's daughter.
Ten years later he records the death of all of his mother's
children. September 22, 1799, he writes to Colonel Burgess Ball:--
"DEAR SIR: Your letter of the 16th inst. has been received
informing me of the death of my brother (Charles).
"The death of near relations always produces awful and affecting
emotions under whatsoever circumstances it may happen. That
of my brother has been long expected: and his latter days so
uncomfortable to himself must have prepared all around him for
the stroke though (_sic_) painful in the effect.
"I was the first, and am, now, the last of my father's children,
by the second marriage, who remain.
"When I shall be called upon to follow them is known only to the
Giver of Life. When the summons comes I shall endeavor to obey
it with a good grace.
"With great esteem and regard I am, Dear Sir, your affectionate
serv't,
"GO. WASHINGTON."
Less than three months afterwards the summons came. Nothing in his
life became him like the leaving it. The generation had passed away!
The stars of the western firmament had set. In the same year died
Patrick Henry and George Washington!
Mary Washington left a noble band of grandsons who worthily
served their country. Bushrod Washington (son of John Augustine
Washington), was soon to become justice of the Supreme Court of the
United States. When President Washington went to Fort Pitt to visit
the troops sent to suppress the Whiskey Insurrection, it is related
that as he passed, uncovered, down the line, every man poured forth
the homage of his heart in words of devotion and loyalty, and that
an escort of cavalry was detailed to conduct him on his homeward
way. Dismissing this, after travelling a short distance, he thus
addressed the officer in charge, the eldest son of his only sister,
Betty Lewis: "George, you are the eldest of five nephews that I
have in this army! Let your conduct be an example to them, and do
not turn your back until you are ordered."
The five nephews were Major George Lewis, commandant of the cavalry;
Major Lawrence Lewis, aide-de-camp to Major General Morgan; Howell
Lewis, in Captain Mercer's troop; Samuel Washington, son of Colonel
Charles Washington, and Lawrence Washington, son of Colonel Samuel
Washington--the two latter light-horsemen in the troop commanded by
Captain Lewis, the _first_ troop of cavalry to cross the mountains
on this expedition. Standing in the field under the new banner of
their new government, were six of Mary Washington's descendants.
The spirit of the stout-hearted grandmother lived in these men, and
inspired them in their prompt response to the call of their country
for support of law and order.
CHAPTER XIV
TRIBUTES OF HER COUNTRYMEN
Mary Washington was laid by reverent hands in the spot chosen by
herself near "Kenmore." Tradition declares that General Washington
proposed erecting a monument over her ashes, but was restrained by
the assurance that the country claimed that privilege.
If this promise was made, it was never redeemed. The American
nation, in its reasonable gratitude, dedicated in almost every
hamlet some memorial to its great commander. For her it did nothing.
No stone or tablet for years marked her resting-place.
Tradition loves to repeat the myth that Congress, which was in
session at the time of her death, wore the usual badge of mourning
for thirty days, and passed resolutions of respect to her memory and
sympathy with the President. No such action was taken by Congress.
There is no official record of the fact. Nor does Robert Maclay, who
transcribed in his journal every incident of his senatorial life,
make any mention whatever of Mary Washington.
We delighted to call her son "a king among men, godlike in his
virtues." We knew that he served us for eight years in peril of
life and fortune, unsustained by encouragement or the hope of
success, leading a forlorn hope against a powerful enemy. We knew
that his, more than any score of names, had given us the place we
held among the nations of the earth. We knew that he himself said,
"All that I am, I owe to my mother."
And yet the country seemed content with toasting his name at
its banquets, and left his mother's grave to be marked only by
mouldering stones and noisome weeds! The graves of her family were
all preserved from decay. Her distinguished son lay, as it was
fitting he should lie, in a marble sarcophagus at Mount Vernon. She
had chosen for her final pillow, the spot where God had answered her
prayers in the gift of wonderful serenity of soul, and in a short
while God alone would have known where to find that spot. Brambles
and weeds covered it, hiding, for very shame, the witness of man's
ingratitude and neglect. Twice, bills were presented to the Congress
of the United States, asking for an appropriation for a monument
over Mary Washington's grave. By various misfortunes the bills were
lost. In 1830 the women of Fredericksburg banded themselves together
to rear this monument, and were zealously engaged to that end when
they received the following letter from a patriotic man of wealth in
New York City:--
"NEW YORK, April 11, 1831.
"TO THE HONORABLE THOMAS GOODWIN, _Mayor of the Town of
Fredericksburg, Va._
"SIR:--I have seen with the greatest interest the efforts
making by the citizens of Fredericksburg to erect a monument
over the remains and to rescue from oblivion the sacred spot
where reposes the great American mother, Mary, the mother of
Washington. I feel a great interest that the ashes of this good
American mother shall remain where they are, and I wish to be
allowed the honor of individually erecting the monument, which I
assure you, sir, shall be, in style and execution, to please the
family of Washington and the citizens of the United States.
"Be pleased, sir, to make this communication known to the
Washington family and all interested, and believe me truly,
"Your most ob't s'vt,
"SILAS E. BURROWS."
The offer was gladly accepted. Work on the monument was at once
commenced. The handsome marbles were finished, and the corner-stone
laid in the presence of Andrew Jackson, then President of the United
States. On this occasion President Jackson said: "Mary Washington
acquired and maintained a wonderful ascendency over those around
her. This true characteristic of genius attended her through life,
and she conferred upon her son that power of self-command which was
one of the remarkable traits of her character.
"She conducted herself through this life with virtue and prudence
worthy of the mother of the greatest hero that ever adorned the
annals of history. There is no fame in the world more pure than
that of the mother of Washington, and no woman, since the mother of
Christ, has left a better claim to the affectionate reverence of
mankind."
This monument was completed but never erected. The stone-mason and
the contractor died before the shaft was placed on the foundation,
and, soon after, Mr. Burrows died also. The work ceased, and the
unfinished structure stood as the contractor left it, until torn
down for the present finished monument. The non-completion of the
old monument, therefore, seems to have been providential, and no
fault of the projector or contractor. During the Civil War between
the North and the South, the guns of the contending armies were
fired across the stones, and they became a prey to the vandalism of
strangers.
In 1857 Captain George Washington Ball (grandson of the patriot,
Colonel Burgess Ball, and his wife--Frances Washington) circulated
an appeal throughout the country, asking for donations to complete
the monument. For eleven years Captain Ball worked zealously
and faithfully. He desired to erect near the monument a noble
charity,--an institution of learning for young women,--but it seemed
ordained that he should be not immediately successful, and in time
he became discouraged. It was a heart-breaking disappointment to
"this old man eloquent,"--the author of the monograph so freely
quoted on these pages.
[Illustration: Mary Washington's Monument.]
Finally the women of America reared a shaft over the desecrated
spot, and by a hereditary office, held by six hundred of their
number, provided a perpetual Guard of Honor over the grave of Mary,
the mother of Washington. The corner-stone of this last monument was
laid Oct. 20, 1893. The monument--the first ever reared by women in
honor of a woman--is a classic shaft of granite. It was dedicated
by President Cleveland on May 10, 1894, in the presence of a large
concourse of people.
Fredericksburg made the occasion one of rejoicing and festivity. The
day was a glorious one. The sun never looked down upon a brighter
scene,--garlands and festoons of flowers, "ripples of ribbons in the
air," officers in uniform, maidens in white, music, and song! There
was a grand masonic banquet, and a ball.
The procession was headed by a number of beautiful young women
habited in black with black hats and sable plumes, handsomely
mounted on horseback. The Chief Justice of the United States, the
Justices of the Supreme Court, and members of the Cabinet, preceded
the companies of infantry, cavalry, and artillery, and again, beside
the grave of this modest woman, were repeated words of honor and
applause, than which no words in any language could be nobler or
better deserved.
These words--from the citizens of her own town, from the senator of
her state, from the President of the United States--were for her:
not alone as the mother of the adored Washington, but for the true
woman "of clear, prompt and decided mind," the woman of courage and
integrity, the "Christian woman, devout and worshipful," to whom the
"greatest hero that ever adorned the annals of history" ascribed all
that had made him great and good.
And very noble was the tribute of Virginia's honored son at the
ceremonies attendant upon the unveiling of the monument reared in
her honor by the women of America. Said Senator Daniel:
"She nursed a hero at her breast. At her knee she trained to the
love and fear of God and to the kingly virtues, honor, truth and
valor, the lion of the tribe that gave to America liberty and
independence. This her title to renown. It is enough. Eternal
dignity and heavenly grace dwell upon the brow of this blessed
mother; nor burnished gold, nor sculptured stone, nor rhythmic
praise could add one jot or tittle to her chaste glory. Tributes
to the lofty genius, which is the rare gift of nature, and to the
brilliant deeds, which are the rare fruits of fitting opportunity,
fulfil a noble function; but they often excite extravagant
emulations that can never be satisfied, and individualize models
which few by possibility may copy. This tribute is not to them. It
is to one who possessed only the homely virtues of her sex; but what
is there in human life that can be more admirable or bring it in
closer proximity to the divine? She was simply a private citizen.
No sovereign's crown rested on her brow. She did not lead an army,
like Joan of Arc, nor slay a tyrant, like Charlotte Corday. She was
not versed in letters or in arts. She was not an Angel of Mercy,
like Florence Nightingale, nor the consort of a hero, like the wife
of Napoleon. She did not shine amidst the throngs which bow to the
charms of wit, beauty, and hospitality; but in any assembly of the
beautiful, the brilliant, the powerful, or the brave of her sex,
no form could awaken a holier sentiment of reverence than she, and
that sentiment is all the deeper because she was the unassuming wife
and mother whose kingdom was her family, whose world was her home.
In the shadow and in the silence from day to day and year to year
she followed the guiding star of that truth which tells us that 'to
do that which before us lies in daily life is the prime wisdom.'
She was the good angel of the hearthstone--the special providence
of tender hearts and helpless hands, content to bear her burdens
in the sequestered vale of life, her thoughts unperverted by false
ambitions, and all unlooking for the great reward that crowned her
love and toil.
"But for the light that streamed from the deeds of him she bore,
we would doubtless have never heard the name of Mary Washington,
and the grass that grew upon this grave had not been disturbed by
curious footsteps or reverential hands. But it does not follow
that she shines only in the reflection of her offspring's fame.
Her virtues were not created; they were only discovered by the
marvellous career of her illustrious son. This memorial might indeed
be due to her because of who she was, but it is far more due to her
because of what she was. It is in her own right, and as the type of
her sex, her people and her race, that she deserves this tribute
stone.
"There were ten thousand Mary Washingtons among the mothers of the
Revolution, and honoring her we honor the motherhood of heroic days
and heroic men. It was in his character, all sufficient in every
emergency, that was displayed the overtowering greatness of George
Washington, and it is not doubted that this character was toned and
shaped by his mother's hand. The principles which he applied to
a nation were those simple and elementary truths which she first
imprinted upon his mind in the discipline of home.
"Mary Washington was the 'light of the dwelling' in a plain, rural,
colonial home. Her history hovers around it. There she was wife,
mother, and widow.
"Home is the pure original fountain from which all patriotism must
flow, and the stream can never rise above its source. As the woman
is, the man is; as the man and woman are, the home is; and as the
home, so the country. Show me refined, enlightened, virtuous, and
industrious homes, and I will show you a good government and a great
nation. The nation is the aggregate, the homes are the units; man
is the builder, woman is the inspiration. Discuss constitutions,
administrations, and policies as we may, the outcome must depend
upon the subsoil they spring from. Make the home all right, and the
rest must follow. This is woman's mission. Our race, the youngest
that has framed a language, moulded a constitution, and made a
name, has recognized that mission and held it sacred. Other races
roam the earth for pelf and adventure, and condescend to inferior
connections. Our race roams the earth only to find the spot on
which to build its homes. Indeed it never quits home. It carries
home with it. Wife and child, the domestic animals and plants, the
household goods go where it goes, over the stormy billows, into
the wilderness, and even to the verge of battle. It is a beautiful
legend of the Rappahannock that when Spotswood and his companions
came sailing hither the air was made vocal by the English swallows
that they brought with them. The stars might change, but they would
make the skies still resonant with the songs of the olden homes."
And as the ages pass may there be always some to make the skies
vocal with the songs of the olden times of the Virginia she loved.
But the "olden homes," alas, are passing away. Their solid masonry
long resists the tooth of Time, but the all-destroyer, Fire, levels
them at last. The walls fall, the stones are removed,--let us hope
for the building of other homes,--finally the drifting earth fills
the foundations, and daisies that "look up to God" alone remain to
keep vigil.
Pious hands preserve the old historic churches. Old Christ Church in
Lancaster, where Mrs. Ball (the "Widow Johnson") stood with little
Mary's sponsors in baptism, still exists; so does Yeocomico church
in Westmoreland, where sweet Mary Ball prayed to the God who never
forsook her; so does St. George's Church in Fredericksburg, built on
the site of "Old St. George's," where, "devout and worshipful," her
venerable form was never a moment too late.
[Illustration: The Avenue of Poplars at Nomini Hall.]
Her last residence in Fredericksburg is tended by the gentle hands
of a society of Virginia women. The garden she loved is kept
"passing sweet with flowers." Mount Vernon is also thus kept by the
women of the whole country. The ancient home of "Epping Forest"
fell into ruin long, long ago. A cluster of old trees marks the
spot where the mother of Washington was born. Some of the "olden
homes" named in these pages are still standing,--"Gunston Hall,"
the residence of George Mason; "Stratford," the home of the Lees
in Westmoreland; "Bushfield," the home of Jenny Washington of the
dancing-class; "Mount Airy," where lived the pretty Tayloe girls.
These are in good repair, and there are many others whose thresholds
were often crossed by Mary Washington in her girlhood, wifehood, and
widowhood.
Of "Nomini Hall," where our New Jersey tutor taught and admired the
ladies, no trace remains; except the avenue of poplars which still
live and sleep all winter, and in leafing-time nod and whisper to
each other of those they once sheltered who are sleeping on forever!
THE WILL OF MARY WASHINGTON, AS REGISTERED IN THE CLERK'S OFFICE
AT FREDERICKSBURG, VIRGINIA
"In the name of God! Amen! I, Mary Washington, of Fredericksburg in
the County of Spotsylvania, being in good health, but calling to
mind the uncertainty of this life, and willing to dispose of what
remains of my worldly estate, do make and publish this, my last
will, recommending my soul into the hands of my Creator, hoping for
a remission of all my sins through the merits and mediation of Jesus
Christ, the Saviour of mankind; I dispose of my worldly estate as
follows:
"_Imprimis._ I give to my son General George Washington, all my land
in Accokeek Run, in the County of Stafford, and also my negro boy
George, to him and his heirs forever. Also my best bed, bedstead,
and Virginia cloth curtains (the same that stands in my best
bedroom), my quilted blue and white quilt and my best dressing-glass.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my son, Charles Washington, my negro
man Tom, to him and his assigns forever.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my daughter Bettie Lewis, my phaeton
and my bay horse.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my daughter-in-law Hannah Washington,
my purple cloth cloak lined with shag.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my grandson, Corbin Washington, my
negro wench, old Bet, my riding chair, and two black horses, to him
and his assigns forever.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my grandson, Fielding Lewis, my negro
man Frederick, to him and his assigns forever, also eight silver
tablespoons, half of my crockeryware, and the blue and white tea
china, with book case, oval table, one bedstead, one pair sheets,
one pair blankets and white cotton counterpain, two table cloths,
six red leather chairs, half my peuter and one half of my kitchen
furniture.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my grandson, Lawrence Lewis, my negro
wench Lydia, to him and his assigns forever.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my granddaughter, Bettie Curtis,
my negro woman, little Bet, and her future increase, to her and
her assigns forever. Also my largest looking-glass, my walnut
writing desk and drawers, a square dining-table, one bed, bedstead,
bolster, one pillow, one blanket and pair sheets, white Virginia
cloth counterpains and purple curtains, my red and white tea china,
teaspoons, and the other half of my peuter and crockeryware, and the
remainder of my iron kitchen furniture.
"_Item._ I give and devise to my grandson, George Washington, my
next best glass, one bed, bedstead, bolster, one pillow, one pair
sheets, one blanket and counterpain.
"_Item._ I devise all my wearing apparel to be equally divided
between my granddaughters, Bettie Curtis, Fannie Ball, and Milly
Washington,--but should my daughter, Bettie Lewis, fancy any one two
or three articles, she is to have them before a division thereof.
"Lastly, I nominate and appoint my said son, General George
Washington, executor of this, my will, and as I owe few or no debts,
I direct my executor to give no security or appraise my estate,
but desire the same may be allotted to my devisees, with as little
trouble and delay as may be, desiring their acceptance thereof as
all the token I now have to give them of my love for them.
"In witness thereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal the 20th
day of May, 1788.
"MARY WASHINGTON.
"Witness, JOHN FERNEYHOUGH.
"Signed, sealed and published in the presence of the said Mary
Washington and at her desire.
"JNO. MERCER.
"JOSEPH WALKER."
* * * * *
_WORKS BY MRS. ALICE MORSE EARLE_
=STAGE-COACH AND TAVERN DAYS=
With many illustrations from photographs.
=8vo. Cloth. $2.50=
"Not the least valuable items in her book are the pictures with
which it is lavishly provided,--admirable reproductions, most of
them, of old taverns, tavern signs and bills, stage coaches, and a
number of copies of the paintings of Mr. Henry, who has made the
stagecoach days of the United States a special study."--_New York
Tribune._
"Mrs. Earle is no mere compiler. Her books represent original
research, combined with a happy faculty of knowing what to tell and
what to omit. They are not only authentic, they are interesting,
full of human nature, and touched throughout with a delightful sense
of humor."--_Chicago Tribune._
=OLD TIME GARDENS=
A Book of the Sweet o' the Year. With many illustrations from
photographs. =8vo. Cloth. $2.00, net=
"Every page is laden with things interesting, attractive, and
curiously and effectively instructive. Mrs. Earle's knowledge of
American local traditionary lore, as we have long since learned, is
matchless."--_Booklovers' Bulletin_, Philadelphia.
"A treatise which will be welcomed by all lovers of gardens and
of literature ... for the scholarly fragrance distilled by every
chapter of a volume that may be worthily enshrined among the
classics of gardening literature."--GEORGE H. ELLWANGER in the _Book
Buyer_.
=SUN-DIALS AND ROSES OF YESTERDAY=
Garden delights which are here displayed in very truth and are
moreover regarded as emblems. Profusely illustrated.
=8vo. Cloth. $2.00, net=
=HOME LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS=
Illustrated by photographs, gathered by the author, of real
things, works, and happenings of olden times.
=8vo. Cloth. $2.50=
"The work is mainly and essentially an antiquarian account of
the tools, implements, and utensils, as well as the processes
of colonial domestic industry; and it is full enough to serve
as a moderate encyclopædia in that kind.... This useful and
attractive book, with its profuse and interesting pictures, its
fair typography, and its quaint binding, imitative of an old-time
sampler, should prove a favorite."--_The Dial._
"Mrs. Earle has made a very careful study of the details of domestic
life from the earliest days of the settlement of the country. The
book is sumptuously illustrated, and every famed article, such
as the spinning-wheel, the foot-stone, the brass knocker on the
door, and the old-time cider-mill, is here presented to the eye
and faithfully pictured in words. The volume is a fascinating one,
and the vast army of admirers and students of the olden days will
be grateful to the author for gathering together and putting into
permanent form so much accurate information concerning the homes of
our ancestors."--_Education._
=CHILD LIFE IN COLONIAL DAYS=
With many illustrations from photographs.
=8vo. Cloth. $2.50=
"The whole work presents a complete and graphic picture of colonial
childhood, that cannot but form a valuable supplementary study for
students of American history. At the same time it has much general
interest, for child life of any period is interesting, but the
interest is doubled when it concerns the formative influences of
American ancestry."--_New York Times._
"From the scant records of colonial days Mrs. Earle has been enabled
to make up a volume that is full of life and variety, and that
gives an insight into the beauty and tenderness of family life even
under the austere conditions of the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries. The portraits of children form a gallery as rare as it is
beautiful."--_New York Herald._
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
=66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK=
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.
Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as
printed.
Missing page numbers are page numbers that were not shown in the
original text.
The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs, thus the page number of the illustration might not match
the page number in the List of Illustrations.
Page 19: The transcriber has inserted a footnote anchor for footnote
2: Horace Edwin Hayden in _William and Mary Quarterly_, Vol. iii, p.
74.].