NYPL RESEARCH LIBRARIES
BY MAP
HON HARLAND
--fT"
I
GAXSEX'OORT- LAN S I X(;
COLLECTION
Qiven ff) tJie JSlew lorA rnhtic L,inr(ir\
^/dstor l^eiiox cmd Ii/ctcii soiindatians
BY Victor Hitgo Paltsits
under the terms a/ t/ie fast vctl I and testament o/
Catherixk Gaxsevoort Laxsino
ordiiddauo'nter r>/
Ljeneral teter Ljansevoort, junior
find Widow ai the
llonorable ^'loru/iam l^ansjno
OT Albany, JVew JnrA
H
c
■jnXiJi.
KW
\k\ - . \
\
^^■.^: U :.
! .'
V ^ V
THE STORY OF
MARY WASHINGTON
BY
MARION HARLAND
i
WITH PORTRAIT AND EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS
" I have seen the only Roman matron living at this day."
Lafayette, 1784.
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFPXIN AND COMPANY
djE ItiUcrsiDc ^rrgg, CambriDge
fi893)
1 J . >
» » »
' « '.
J »» *
1
THE NEW Y)^K
PIIRI.IC LIBRARY
ASTC V AND
T1LD£N IOJNDaTIONS
R 1921 L
'\
Copyright, 1892,
By The National Mary Washington
Memorial Association.
A// rights reserved.
The Riverside Press, Cambridge , Mass., U. S.A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Photogravure of Marv Washington at Twenty-
three. (Original in possession of Mrs. S. F. B.
Morse.) FroTitispiece
Bas-Relief OVER Drawtxg-Room Mantel in Ken-
more io6
Mary Washington Cottage . . . .no
Walk in which Mrs. Washington met Lafay-
ette, AT Back of Cottage . . . .124
Kenmore, Residence of " Betty " (Washington)
Lewis 132
Rock near Unfinished Tomb, a Favorite Re-
sort OF Mary Washington .... 142
Kenmore as seen from the "Oratory Rock" 144
Unfinished Monument to Mary the Mother
of Washington 154
Corner of Room in which Mary Washington
DIED 164
THE
STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
CHAPTER I.
The counties of Westmoreland, Rich-
mond, Northumberland, and Lancaster, in
eastern Virginia, form the peninsula that
separates the Rappahannock from the Poto-
mac River. In the year 1700, Lancaster
County lent character to the " Northern
Neck," famed for broad plantations and for
the wealth and refinement of the inhabitants.
The largest landholder in this region was
Robert Carter, of Corotoman, a territorial
grant washed upon the east by the Chesa-
peake, and upon the south by the Rappa-
hannock. The latter is a lordly stream at
this point, and navigable for over a hundred
miles from the mouth. John Carter, the
father of Robert, built in 1670 the first
4 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Episcopal church on the Neck. His name
had headed the Hst of parish vestrymen in
1654, preceding that of the clergyman, — an
arbitrary order followed in the cases of his
namesake-son John, and Robert, surnamed
" King " Carter, the greatest of the line.
The temper and customs of the day and
country were semi-feudal ; leaders were few
in number and despotic in spirit. If plant-
ers and small farmers dwelt together in
unity it was because the autocrat's position
was not questioned.
So near to Christ Church which the first
Carter had builded, that the two were early
in the eighteenth century united into one
parish, was St. Mary s White Chapel ; the
place of worship for those belonging to this
parish was a chapel-of-ease of the mother-
church. Prominent among her vestrymen
for almost one hundred years was the name
of Ball. It occurs so frequently upon
the crumbling tombstones paving the old
churchyard as to persuade one into the idea
that this was, at the first, a family burying-
ground, and the chapel an afterthought.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
5
The present building, erected in 1740, occu-
pies the site of one which was attended reg-
ularly by Colonel Joseph Ball, of Lancaster.
His father, William Ball, emigrated from
England about the year 1650, and settled
at the mouth of the Corotoman River, a
tributary of the Rappahannock. His home-
stead, Epping Forest, one of the centres of
influence to which I have referred, was in-
herited by Joseph Ball. The parish record
has an entry to the effect that while White
Chapel was in building in 1740, Joseph
Ball asked and obtained leave to construct
a gallery in the same for his family pew.
Stipulation was made that it " be completed
at the same time with the church, and fin-
ished in the same style with the W^est gal-
lery." The vestryman-petitioner was made
colonel by Governor Spotswoode, who en-
tered upon the duties of his oflfice in 1710.
The owner of Epping Forest was then
plain " Mr.," or at most, " Major," on the
late autumnal day in the year of our Lord
1706, when his youngest child, Mary, was
born.
6 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
There were other children in the home:
Joseph and Hannah by a former marriage,
and the " Sister Susie," of whom we hear in
Mary's letters, and who was probably her
own mother's child. The Ball house was
a square frame structure, plain in architec-
ture, with a porch in front, and upper and
lower porticos recessed by two half-wings,
in the rear. A grove of native trees sur-
rounded it on all sides. We get our first
mention of the baby-girl in a will executed
by her father, when she was betw^een five
and six years old : —
" I give and bequeath unto my daughter,
Mary, 400 acres of land in Richmond
County in ye freshes of Rappa-h-n River,
being a part of a pattern of 1600 acres to
her, ye said Mary and her heirs forever."
When this was written the testator was,
he states, " lying upon the bed in my lodg-
ing-chamber, making my last will and testa-
ment, commending my soul to God with
sound and disposing mind."
In the scarcity of information respecting
Mary Ball's childhood and girlhood, we
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON J
catch eagerly at the shadowy sketch indi-
cated to a lively fancy by tl/-e few lines cop-
ied above. The " lodging-chamber," the
heart of the old Virginia country-house,
was, we assume, upon the first floor of the
square dwelling. Upon the 25th of June,
the date of this instrument, windows and
doors would stand wide open to every wind
of heaven. The leaves of oaks, hickories,
and poplars would be quivering in the salt
air blowing fresh from the Bay; mocking-
birds and robins were singing in rapturous
chorus, and the voice of the baby of the
household blending with all other jocund
sounds while the sick man made provision
for her, her heirs, and assigns.
That, although " smitten with sore sick-
ness," the good vestryman did not then join
his kindred in the churchyard of White
Chapel, we gather from the partial list of
contributors to the salary of Rev. John Bell,
of Christ Church, Lancaster, in 171 2.
Colonel Joseph Ball subscribed five pounds,
equal then to treble that sum in our day.
His title of " Colonel Ball, of Lancaster "
8 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
was used to distinguish him from a cousin of
the same name,and rank, resident in another
county. His brother, WilHam Ball, had
eight sons, five of whom married and left
sons to keep alive his name upon the earth.
We hear of but four children of Colonel
Joseph Ball, and his only son had no male
issue.
The Ball coat-of-arms is thus described:
" The escutcheon bears a lion rampant, a
coat-of-mail, and a shield bearing two lions
and a Jleur de lys. The crest is a helmet
with closed visor. Above the lion is a
broad bar, half red and half gold. On the
scroll which belongs to it are these words :
' CcBlumque tueri^ "
" They were taken, of course," says Bishop
Meade, in his " Old Churches and Families
of Virginia," " from these lines of Ovid : —
" ' Pronaque cum spectant animalia caetera terram
Os homini sublime dedit caelumque tueri.' "
These particulars are given the more
fully because of an impression, as errone-
ous as general, prevailing among superficial
readers of American history to the effect
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON g
that Mary Washington's origin was obscure
and her breeding mean. Her lineage — if
less august than that of her husband, whose
descent from William de Hertburn, Lord
of the Manor of Washinofton in the time of
Richard III., is clearly proved — was not
ignoble, nor were her associations ever
other than those of dignified respectability.
" King " Carter's family were the Balls' near
neighbors and friends, and their circle of ac-
quaintances, if not extensive in the sparsely
settled country where their lot was cast, was
the best that country afforded.
After Colonel Ball's death, which took
place while Mary was but a child, the
widow, according to a kinswoman, lived
many years, " which were undoubtedly de-
voted to careful training of her child, fitting
her, as it proved, to pass with rare firmness
and fortitude throuQ-h the trials and vicissi-
tudes that later life laid upon her."
The blast of civil war, that unroofed so
many homes and lost to posterity records
of incalculable value, fluttered to the feet of
a reverent chronicler a fragment of a pri-
lO THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
vate letter found in a deserted mansion
near the York River, which is beyond price
to those who are interested in the story of
Mary Ball's early life. Despair, indignant
and impotent, seizes us at the thought of
how much as precious and even more satis-
factory to the student of colonial history was
destroyed like so much waste paper in those
four years of wrath and desolation. The
letter, from which the signature is missing,
begins thus : —
"WmsBurg, ye yth of Octr, 1722
*' Dear Sukey, Madam Ball of Lancas-
ter and Her Sweet Molly have gone Horn.
Mamma thinks Molly the Comliest Maiden
She Know^s. She is about 16 yrs old, is
taller than Me, is verry Sensable, Modest
and Lovinof. Her Hair is like unto Flax,
Her Eyes are the color of Yours and her
Chekes are like May blossoms. I wish you
could see her."
We do seem to see her in lingering over
the portrait done in miniature in colors that
are fresh to this day. It is, as if in explor-
ing a catacomb, we had happened upon a
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON II
fair chamber adorned with a frescoed por-
trait of a girl-princess of a legendary age.
Romancist and biographer are one as we
study the picture, line by line. The brush
was dipped in the limner's heart and
wrought passing well. A shade of demure-
ness is imparted to winsome Molly by the
mention of Madam Ball and by the citation
of the nameless writer s mamma's approval
of her daughter s intimate, — demureness
that becomes the maiden as moss the half-
opened rose.
She sits for her likeness upon a stool in
Madam Ball's shadow, the blue eyes glan-
cing shyly up from her sampler, and the May
blossoms (that must mean wild roses as they
blush upon the Eastern shore) unfolding
in her " chekes " at her hostess's commen-
dation of her " comliness." The October
sunshine is tangled in curls that are " like
unto flax," and soften the contour of a fore-
head that would be, but for their shading,
too high for feminine loveliness. A like-
ness, reputed to be of her, taken at twenty-
three, shows us this, and that her nose was
12 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
a delicate aquiline, her mouth small, with
firm lines that would become severe under
the pressure of circumstance. We are told,
moreover, that her voice was to the last
of her life sweet, with pleasant English
cadences. She and her mother had been
visiting Williamsburg, just then in the flush
of its lately acquired honors as the capital
of the State. A brave life and a gay was
that of which Mary Ball had glimpses from
under the wins: of the discreet mother. To
the eyes of the provincial beauty Duke of
Gloucester Street must have been what the
Mall was to Miss Burney's " Evelina," and
the Apollo Room at the Raleigh Tavern on
Assembly nights as much like a scene of
Arabian enchantment as Vauxhall to that
unsophisticated diarist and correspondent.
Virginia's most graceful historian, John
Esten Cooke, is especially happy in delinea-
tion of life in the capital at that date. This
is one of his pictures, beginning with the
celebrated tavern wherein Jefferson danced
with his Belinda: —
" It was on Gloucester Street, a building
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 3
of wood, erected about 1 700, with entrances
on both fronts, and a leaden bust of Sir
Walter Raleigh over the main doorway.
The large apartment called the ' Apollo
Room ' was a favorite place for balls.
" The town consisted of detached houses
without pretensions to architectural beauty,
but this modest hamlet was the scene of
much that was brilliant and attractive in
Virginia society. . . . The love of social
intercourse had been a marked trait of
the Virginians in all generations. . . . The
violins seemed to be ever playing for the
divertissement of the youths and maidens ;
the good horses were running for the purse
or cup ; cocks were fighting ; the College
students were minsflins: with the throno^ in
their academic dress. ... It was a scene
full of gayety and abandon."
The population of Virginia was, in 1722,
rated at 70,000, double that of Maryland,
the next most populous colony, and there
was but one older collecre in North America
than her William and Mary, now well es-
tablished in the renewed lease of life in-
14 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
augurated after the fire of 1705. Pretty
Molly Ball had strolled past the University
buildings at the head of Gloucester Street
and looked down the mile-long vista, straight
as plumb-line could make it, and edged
with fine trees, to the Capitol at the far
end. Perhaps she was escorted through
them by a gallant collegian with " dear Su-
key's " correspondent upon the other side
of her. She had stared and laughed at the
queer octagonal stone construction, already
yclept " The Powder Horn," built by Gov-
ernor Spotswoode in 171 7 as a magazine
for ammunition. Her soft eyes had rounded
with delight at sight of the Governor's
Palace, the wonder of the tide-water region,
standing in the middle of pleasure-grounds
between three and four hundred acres in ex-
tent, planted wath tulip-poplars, maples, lin-
dens, and aspens ; had doubtless looked in
loyal reverence upon the portraits of king,
queen, and princes that hung in the state
reception-room. Being ever " verry sensa-
ble " and thoughtful, she must have carried
back to the seclusion of Epping Forest ma-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 15
terial for reflection and talk for months to
come. Even if this were her first visit to
Williamsburg, she could never again be an
unlearned rustic to whom news of the gay
world was like messages in an unknown
tonorue from forei2fn lands.
Four months thereafter (January 14, 1723)
we have something from our heroine's own
hand that may or may not denote the growth
of intellectual tastes implanted during her
sojourn at the seat of polite literature
and the birthplace of Virginia journalism.
*' Brother Joseph," the elder and mentor of
the half-sister, grown to manhood, had suc-
ceeded his father as her virtual if not legal
(ruardian. He had been sent to Eno-land
to be educated, a custom much in vogue
with those of the early colonists who could
afford the advantage for their sons. It goes
far toward accounting for the circumstance
that the education of the men of the times
was so far superior to that of the girls.
Joseph Ball, Jr., had fallen in love with
London, and never again resided in America
except for a few months at a time. These
1 6 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
visits must, however, have been tolerably
frequent, and his supervision of his young
sister conscientiously strict, if we are to
judge from her deference to him, her con-
tinual reference of all matters of weight to
his superior judgment, and the masterful
tone in which he addressed her. He had
married an Englishwoman, and was now a
city barrister, resident at Stratford-by-Bow%
London.
" Few of her letters remain. It is prob-
able that few were written," says Mary Ball's
kinswoman-biographer. "The handwriting
is stiff and cramped, the spelling bad, but
they are most sensibly and earnestly ex-
pressed."
Queen Anne spelled no better, and Mary
Ball's handwriting is as legible as copper-
plate, albeit school-girlish and ungraceful.
She was in her seventeenth year, having
celebrated her sixteenth birthday soon after
her return from visiting "dear Sukey's "
confidante, when she indited a letter upon
family matters to her fraternal guardian, in
which is the following paragraph : —
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1/
" We have not had a schoolmaster in
our neighborhood until now in nearly four
years. We have now a young minister liv-
ing with us who was educated at Oxford,
took orders and came over as assistant to
Rev. Kemp, at Gloucester. That parish is
too poor to keep both, and he teaches
school for his board. He teaches Sister
Susie and me and Madam Carter's boy and
two girls. I am now learning pretty fast.
Mamma and Susie and I all send love to
you and Mary. This from your loving sister,
" Marv Ball."
Bishop Meade speaks of the Kempes of
Gloucester as " having at an early period in
the history of Virginia been characterized
by devotion to the welfare of the Church
and religion," but one scans in vain his
annals of the parishes in Gloucester for
record of the name of " Rev. Kemp." It
is, therefore, idle to conjecture as to who
was his assistant, the young Oxonian whose
name demure Molly omits so cavalierly.
The failure to write it in any part of the
1 8 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
communication may have been the result of
indifference bordering upon contempt on
the part of one who had ah'eady won the
title of the " Belle of the Northern Neck,"
or the lapse may be significant. The care-
less note of such an important event as the
addition to the country household of a
young minister educated at Oxford, and
who, she is careful to state, took orders
there, savors of studied negligence. She
may not have cared to call the prosperous
London barrister's attention to the perilous
propinquity of his sister to a curate who
was content (or compelled) to teach five pu-
pils for his board in Madam Ball's family.
Brother Joseph's word was potential with his
much-younger sister, possibly with his step-
mother, and Mary may have had a shrewd
fear that her scholastic career might be ar-
rested if his suspicions were excited by de-
tails of the personality and qualifications of
the tutor. If such an idea crossed her mind
she hastened to avert the danger by casually
and agreeably remarking that she was now
"learning pretty fast." Her naive compla-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 9
cency is engaging. Evidently her untrained
powers had required considerable breaking-
in. At sixteen she would be " in society,"
and to fold her wings into the school-girl
chrysalis demanded an effort.
It is to be deplored that the transcriber
of this one of the few letters that bear her
signature thought it seemly to put the
orthography into shape. A quaint flavor,
as of lavender and dried rose-leaves, clings
to the yellow old pages covered with un-
practiced characters that have come down
to us from the averao^e woman of the last
century, and much of the charm is due to
the reckless defiance of all rules touching
spelling and the use of capitals.
An ancient gentlewoman, whose wit was
the joy of her intimates, once defended this
lawlessness, and not unsuccessfully: —
" Language is only the vehicle of thought,"
she argued. " In those days people cared
little for varnish and plating. The main
thing was to have the vehicle hold together
and be safe and comfortable."
Without their old-time perfume, letters a
20 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
hundred years old are shorn and flat. We
are glad that Mary BalTs enthusiastic pane-
gyrist wrote of her " chekes," and we smile,
almost affectionately, over the two r's in the
" verry " that qualifies " sensable." It would
have been interesting to see how Mary
spelled — say such words as " schoolmaster"
and " assistant " — after four years' famine
(or respite) from pedagogues, and while her
learning was in a state of satisfactory for-
wardness.
In this, epistle we have the only definite
allusion to the fourth child of Colonel Ball,
— " Sister Susie." History is dumb, but for
this passing mention, as to this one of Wash-
ington's maternal aunts, and tradition tells
us nothing beyond what we glean from
Mary's prim talk of her fellow-student who
joins her and " Mama " in sending love to
the far-away kindred. That she learned her
lessons from Rev. Kemp's curate would im-
ply nearness in age to the youngest of the
band, and we hope that Mary had this one
full-blooded sister.
Madam Carter's boy and two girls prob-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 21
ably represented one fourth of the dozen
olive-plants that had grown up about the
wide-leaved table of " King " Carter. The
family school was an English custom brought
over with heirlooms of lace and silver from
" Home," and which in some sections of
Virginia has outlived the " onward-and-up-
ward " rush of free and popular school-edu-
cation.
CHAPTER II.
The chronicler to whom the MSS. found
in the dismantled mansion of the York
River were consigned supplies us with an-
other and important event in Mary Ball's
girlhood. A fragment of a tattered, faded
letter, signed " Lizzy Burwell," retains part
of the address to " Miss Nelly Car'' — (un-
doubtedly " Carter "), and of the heading
and date, — '' ta^ik'' (why not Piaukatank,
the next parish to Lancaster, or perhaps
Chotank, afterward the seat of a Lawrence
Washington?) — "Mz^jl/^ 1 5M 1728." The
paper crumbled at the reader's touch ; the
yellow-brown blotches that bespeak the
thumbing of Time ran together all over
the sheet. But three short lines were leo^i-
ble even to eyes skilled in deciphering an-
cient records : —
..." understand Molly Ball is going
home with her Brother, a Lawyer, who lives
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 23
in England. Her Mother is Dead three
months ago, and her Sister " —
Ah, her sister! what of "Sister Susie"?
Does the " and " awkwardly include Molly's
school-fellow in the death-roll with the
mother? It might well read, "and her
Sister died last year, or last month, or last
week." If she went on to say, " her Sister
was married the other day," some Lancas-
ter ofenealoG^ist would have added to the list
of " William and Joseph Ball ; William's
daughter Hannah, who married Daniel Fox;
his eight sons ; Colonel Burgess Hall, only
son of Jeduthun the third, youngest son of
James, the third son of said William ; Jo-
seph Ball, Jr., who had no male issue, but
whose nephew was General George Wash-
ington, son of his sister Mary, youngest
daughter of Colonel Joseph Ball, of Lan-
caster; David Ball, seventh son of Captain
William Ball, born in 16S6," — and an in-
terminable line of other worthies, who were
begotten, who lived, and w4io died on the
Northern Neck, — some local antiquarian
would, I say, have bracketed with these
24 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Susan Ball, who married this or that planter,
or maybe an imj orted clergyman.
It seems altogether likely that when the
orphaned Mary left Epping Forest forever
to become a part of Brutlier Joseph s family,
she left none nearer in blood than he to be
regretted in her exile. It was a lone: fare-
W'ell to the girlish days that were slipping
away from her, according to the prejudice
of that era. She was within a few months
of two-and-twenty, and still Molly Ball,
spinster. Southern girls went off in looks
earlier then than in our favored days, and
as a rule went off the simple list between
sixteen and twenty. Gray shadows had be-
gun to chase the blue out of the eyes of her
w^ho had borne modestly the sobriquets of
the " Belle of the Northern Neck," and the
" Rose of Epping Forest ; " the flaxen curls
were darkening into chestnut, and in tide-
^vater Virginia May blossoms are short-
lived.
There is comfort in the knowledge that
Brother Joseph was with her to superintend
the breaking up of the home, and to sustain
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 2$
his sister's courage under all that the phrase
implies. Bishop Meade asserts, and with
authority, the identity of Mary Ball's brother
with Mr. Joseph Ball, of Lancaster, of whose
activity in promoting good works he cites
an instance. An entry made in the records
of Lancaster County in 1729 sets forth : —
" A proposition of Joseph Ball, Gentle-
man, in behalf of himself and the rest of
the inhabitants of Virginia, directed to the
Honourable the General Assembly concern-
ine the instructinc: a certain number of
young gentlemen, Virginians born, in the
study of divinity, at the county's charge,
was this day presented in court by the said
Joseph Ball, and on his prayer, ordered to
be certified to the General Assembly."
How the stout churchman who thus sig-
nified his own willinsrness to be taxed that
the ranks of the native clergy might be
filled could be an " inhabitant of Virginia,"
and at the same time " a Lawyer who lives
in England," can only be explained by as-
suminor that he retained his colonial estates
and worked the principle of absenteeism in
26 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
both directions. A residence of months —
perhaps of over a year — in Lancaster at the
time of his mother's death may have suf-
ficed to the legal conscience of the land-
holder to justify the claim of citizenship.
If he were the " Gentleman " referred to in
the record, and whose only daughter Fanny
married Raleigh Downman in 1750, Mary
Ball did not sail for England until a year
after Lizzie Burvvell wrote of the rumor
that the common acquaintance of herself
and Nelly Carter was going home with her
brother. The venerable annalist of the
church he loved and served so well sets no
bounds about the declaration, — " This Jo-
seph Ball was the uncle of George Wash-
ington."
In the parish register of the village of
Cookham, Berkshire, England, are the names
of numerous Washingtons and several Balls.
A local legend, rehearsed by Benson J. Los-
sing, designates a Cookham villa as that
occupied by Mary Ball after her marriage.
As Joseph Ball was living at " Stratford-by-
Bow Nigh London " in 1723, and also in
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 2 J
1 760, and the presumption is that his sister
carried out her expressed design of Hving
with him, it is hardly Hkely that she met at
Cookham, under the circumstances detailed
by another tradition, the man whose wife
she was to become.
This story runs that the fair American
was residing in the Berkshire village with
relatives who had given her a home in her
orphanhood when a gentleman's traveling
chariot was upset in front of the house, and
he was brought in, seriously injured. He
proved to be Miss Ball's countryman, Mr.
Auo^ustine Wasliins^ton, and she bore a dis-
tinguished part in nursing him.
" In Virginia," surmises Lossing, " since
the Washingtons and Balls lived in adjoin-
ing counties, they were doubtless personally
acquainted with one another."
If this were true, Mary Ball recognized
the sufferer as one who had other claims
upon her sympathies besides those of a
common nationality.
As Wessyngtons, Weshingtons, Wassing-
tons, and Washingtons, his ancestors had
28 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
played a conspicuous part in English his-
tory since the Conquest. One of them — a
baronet — had married a half-sister of Geor2:e
Villiers, Duke of Buckingham ; another had
served under Prince Rupert at Worcester,
So stubborn was their loyalty to the Stuarts
that two younger brothers of Sir William
Washington, Buckingham's brother-in-law,
sailed for America during the Protectorate,
preferring expatriation and the hards'hips
of colonial life to ease and plenty under
regicide rule.
These were John and Laurence Wash-
ington, names repeated so often in the
family genealogy that strict attention to
chronology is necessary if we would avoid
confusion of successive generations. Little
is known of them prior to the embarkation.
John, the elder and wealthier of the pair,
was a Yorkshire gentleman living quietly
at Cave Castle, a manorial seat of the Wash-
ingtons. His reputation was that of an
energetic man with decided military taste,
if not genius. The more scholarly Lau-
rence had taken an Oxford degree, and was
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 29
married to the daughter of Sir Hugh Wal-
lace. One year after his marriage in 1655,
the brothers left their native land in com-
pany, moved by some fresh impulse of dis-
gust for the Cromwellian administration,
or provoked by what they construed into
growth of tyranny. The popular belief is
that they settled upon adjoining estates in
Westmoreland, which is separated by Rich-
mond County from Lancaster. Having
brought wealth with them, they were soon
eminent among the successful men of the
region.
If Laurence's lands originally joined those
of his brother he soon removed to Rappa-
hannock County, where his will was re-
corded in 1675. John's was made, as by
concert, in the same year, and both were
admitted to probate in January, 1677, one
upon the 6th, the other upon the loth of
the month, as if in their deaths they had
not been long divided. These instruments
breathe the spirit of exalted piety character-
istic of the earlier American branches of
the W^ashington family. No Roundhead
30 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
exhorter could have enunciated sentiments
more evangelical than are contained in the
preamble to the last will and testament of
GeorG:e Washino^ton's orreat-fjrandfather : —
" Being heartily sorry from the bottom of
my heart for my sins past, most humbly de-
siring forgiveness of the same from the Al-
mighty God, my Saviour and Redeemer, in
whom and by the merits of Jesus Christ I
trust and believe assuredly to be saved, and
to have full remission and forgiveness of all
my sins, and that my soul with my body at
the s^encral resurrection shall rise ao:ain
with joy " — is the language of triumphant
faith. He " hopes," moreover, in good Cal-
vinistic phrase, "through the merits of
Jesus Christ's death and passion to possess
and inherit the kingdom of heaven prejjared
for His elect and chosen."
His fortune, which " it has pleased God
to give him far above his deserts," was
large, and w^as divided between his wife and
three children, John, Laurence, and Anne.
Much of it was in the great staple of the
region, tobacco. Four thousand weight
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 3 1
were devised to the rector of the church, in
which he orders that a tablet containinor the
Ten Commandments shall be set up as his
memorial stone. One thousand pounds ster-
ling were left to his wife's brother, Thomas
Pope, and the same sum and four thousand
weight of tobacco to a sister who was on
the eve of emigrating to America. Prop-
erty in England is included among the be-
quests. His wife, Anne Pope, and his
brother Laurence were his executors. He
had lived in the land of his adoption eigh-
teen years when an invasion of the Seneca
Indians was made upon the colony, and
John Washington was put in command of
the forces hastily collected to oppose the
savages. He was successful, and received
a colonel's commission in recosrnition of
the signal service rendered the menaced
provinces. The parish in which he lived
was named for him, and at the time of his
death he was commander-in-chief of the
Northern Neck.
The parallel between his character, his
achievements, — even the honors paid him
32 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
and the titles conferred, — and those of his
great descendant is too striking to be ig-
nored by the thoughtful student of history.
His son Laurence married Mildred, daugh-
ter of Colonel Augustine Warner, a prom-
inent freeholder of Gloucester. They had
two sons, — John, named for his paternal,
and Augustine for his maternal grandfather.
This rapid review of the history of the
three generations immediately preceding
the birth of our first President is inter-
esting in significance to the believers in he-
reditary transmission of moral and mental
traits. If, as Emerson has it, " Man is
physically, as well as metaphysically, a thing
of shred and patches, borrowed unequally
from good and bad ancestors," it will be
seen that there was abundance of superfine
material for the outfit of the coming man of
the eighteenth century, and that the cardi-
nal virtues of patriotism, courage, temper-
ance, thrift, justice to man and faith in God,
which were constituents of the Washington's
greatness, were the more stanch for a cen-
tury's seasoning by the time they fell to him
CHAPTER III.
Augustine, the second son of Laurence
Washington and Mildred Warner his wife,
was born in Westmoreland County, Vir-
ginia, in 1694, probably upon the planta-
tion to which he afterward succeeded as
proprietor. It is washed upon one side
by Bridge's Creek, and upon the other by
Pope's Creek, small rivers that run into the
Potomac. The homestead stood not far
from their junction with the greater stream.
The lesser watercourses form two sides of
a truncated triangle, within which lay the
fertile patrimonial acres. The early life of
Laurence Washington's sons was doubtless
that of the well-born, well-endowed colonial
youths of the period. They were trained
in military exercises, hunted deer, foxes, wild
turkeys and ducks, danced well, and had
such theoretical knowledge of husbandry
as qualified them to manage the overseers
who would manage their plantations.
34 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Augustine must have come into posses-
sion of his property in his nonage, for he
married at twenty-one Jane, the daughter
of Caleb Butler, Esq., whose lands skirted
Bridge's Creek. The young couple lived
together for thirteen years, during which
time three sons, and the one daughter that
almost seems to have been the rule in the
Washington family, were born to them.
The baby-girl was christened by the mo-
ther's name, but did not outlive early in-
fancy. In November, 1728, the mother
went to join her in the family vault near
Bridge's Creek. At the age of thirty-four
the father was a widower with the care of
two sons of tender age upon him.
His second wife was wont to describe
him as a stately and handsome gentleman,
and contemporary authorities agree that
his son George inherited his superb phy-
sique from this one of his parents. He
was, a descendant tells us, " a noble-look-
ing man of distinguished bearing, with fair,
florid complexion, brown hair and fine gray
eyes," and in the prime of early maturity
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 35
when thrown — whether Hterally or figura-
tively matters not — into the society of his
whilome compatriote, Mary Ball. He had
gone to England, it is said, to dispose of
certain property to which he was heir by
the terms of his grandfather's will. In
1853 there was standing in Cookham, Eng-
land, a large walnut tree, which, it was al-
leged, was set out as a sapling by Augus-
tine Washington " while a-waiting to find a
purchaser for his property."
It is singular enough, considering the
historical and social consequence of the
parties concerned, that conjecture and oral
tradition, in pretty equal proportions, make
up the sum of what is generally accepted
as the true relation of the circumstances
attending the courtship and wedlock of
Washington's father and mother. The
probabilities are all in favor of the state-
ment that they met and made (or renewed)
in England the acquaintanceship that ended
so auspiciously. Mary Ball was to accom-
pany her brother to the neighborhood of
London in 1728-29. Augustine Washing-
36 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
ton was looking after his English estates in
1729. What more natural than that the
rest should follow ?
While President, Geors^e Washincrton
supplied by request to an English heraldry
office a genealogical table of the American
branch of his family. He wrote there : —
" Jane, wife of Augustine, died November
24, 1728, and was buried in the family vault
at Bridge's Creek. Augustine then married
Mary Ball, March 6, 1730."
In the same table is set down : " Gcoj^ge,
eldest son of Augustine by the second 7nar-
riage, was born in Westmoreland CountyT
The section I have italicized should — or
so an unprejudiced person might suppose
— settle definitively the question as to
George Washington's nationality. Yet one
historian speaks of it as " a mooted point."
Lossing, after quoting from the genealog-
ical table, subjoins, " There is no known
official record that can solve the question,"
and pamphlets have been written to prove
that the first chief magistrate of the country
severed from the crown by his efforts was
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 3/
born in EnG:lancl. It cannot be overlooked
that, while the distinguished son is silent as
to the place of the marriage, neither hint-
ing that the ceremony was performed in
England, nor asserting that it took place in
America, he is explicit as to his birthplace,
even naming the county. If he were not
prime authority upon this point, especially
when he sets his hand to a formal and im-
portant record, to what " official record "
can we turn ? How clear was his under-
standincr of date and circumstances was
further displayed in an entry made in his
mother's Bible in his own handwriting
when he was a lad of seventeen, or there-
abouts. At sixteen he was one of Lord
Fairfax's surveyors, and earning his own
livino: amonof men double his ao'C. It
is altogether unlikely that he transcribed
idly or ignorantly what is still to be read in
round, careful characters in the volume
faithfully preserved in the family : —
" George Washington, Son to Augustine
and Mary his wife, was born ye nth Day
of February 173- about 10 in the morn-
38 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
ing and was baptized the 3th of April fol-
lowing, Mr. Beverley Whiting & Capt
Christopher Brooks, Godfathers, & Mrs. Mil-
dred Gregory, Godmother."
It ought to be needless to call attention
to the extreme improbability that one so
well instructed with regard to the very hour
of the birth, the time of baptism, and the
names of the sponsors, should err as to the
more momentous question. On which side
of the Atlantic did he first see the lisfht?
The marvel is that the matter should ever
have been debated.
To recapitulate : conflicting legends are
most easily reconciled by acceptance of
Lossing's hypothesis that the contracting
parties were married in England, probably
from the house of Mary Ball's only surviv-
ing near kinsman, and, sailing from Eng-
land within the year, were settled in the
Westmoreland homestead between Bridge's
and Pope's creeks before their first child
was born. Unfortunatelv, the marriasce and
baptismal registers of the parish church at
Cookham were destroyed before 1853, at
THE STORY OF MARY WASHING TOiV 39
which time investigation of this matter was
made, only the burial register having been
saved.
Mrs. Ella Bassett Washington, a lineal
descendant of " Betty " Lewis, Washing-
ton's only sister, and whose husband was a
grandnephew of the great chieftain, echoes
the general disappointment of biographical
students when she remarks that, " Some-
thin sf more is due to the father of Washins:-
ton than the mere mention of his personal
appearance." Her reference to " careful re-
views of Washington's ancestry, given in
Sparks's and Irving's histories, tracing the
family for six centuries in England," hardly
contents those to w^iom every particular
relating to the antecedents of our country's
deliverer is fraught with intense interest.
Still we cannot but admire the grace of the
evasion with which Augustine Washing-
ton's very great-indeed-granddaughter would
parry useless questionings : —
" Returning to Alary Ball's marriage and
the query, ' Who was her husband ? ' no-
thing could be more emphatic than his own
40 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
solemn assertion made in the first sentence
of his last will, ' I, Augustine Washington,
of the County of King George, Genile-
man.' "
The formula in this individual instance
conveys all we would have it express — as
far as it goes, but it goes a very little way.
Every planter on the Northern Neck, or, for
that matter, east of the Blue Ridge, used
the words in cognate circumstances, and
the probability is that they slipped from the
notary's pen of their own w^eight. Com-
mon sense descries a stronger proof that he
was the worthy sire of his magnificent son
in the facts that John Washington was his
grandfather, and that Mary Ball chose him
as her husband. " Good blood does not
lie," and the highest praise a man can re-
ceive is the love and trust a noble woman
reposes in him when she lays her hand in
his for the rest of their united lives. Our
favorable judgment of the successful planter
is based upon association and upon pre-
sumptive evidence rather than upon direct
information.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 4 1
Beyond the skeleton history which the
best of biographers have only sufficed to
indicate, not to sketch, there is little to tell
where we would fain relate at length. How
little is betrayed by the pertinacity with
which relic-mad posterity reverts (especially
upon the 2 2d of February, N. S.) to the
mouldy vestige of what was, when new and
whole, absurdly insufficient drapery for the
frame of a moral lesson. That man or
woman should not be allowed to go at large
who dares, in the age that now is and to
come, to tell in cold-blooded seriousness the
story of the hatchet and the cherry-tree.
The memory of father and of son is best
honored by ignoring in toto the petty trans-
action in lumber that has made both ridicu-
lous, and turned the stomachs of thousands
of embryo citizens of our republic against
truth-telling.
Descriptions of the home to which the
well-to-do widower brought the bride who
was ten years his junior are happily suffi-
ciently full to aid us in arranging the set-
ting for our heroine's new " cast." The
42 THE STORY OF MARY WASHhXGTON
blunted point of the triangle formed by the
creeks that furnished fat low-grounds on
two sides of Augustine Washington's plan-
tation of Wakefield rested upon the Poto-
mac, and was a mile in width. Wakefield
comprised a thousand acres of as fine wood
and bottom lands as were to be found in a
county " that by reason of the worth, tal-
ents, and patriotism that adorned it was
called ' the Athens of Virginia.' " The
house faced the Potomac, the lawn sloping
to the bank between three and four hun-
dred yards distant from the " porch," run-
nins: from corner to corner of the dwelHnof.
There were four rooms of fair size upon
the first floor, the largest in a one-story ex-
tension at the back, being " the chamber."
The hip-roof above the main building was
pierced by dormer-windows that lighted a
larofe attic. At each end of the house w^as
a chimney built upon the outside of the
frame dw^elling, and of dimensions that
made the latter seem disproportionately
small. Each cavernous fireplace would
hold a half cord of wood, and the leaping
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 43
blaze had all seasons for its own in a reeion
'&'
where river fos^s at eveninor and morninor
O O <D
"were vehicles of the dreaded " aofue and
fever." About the fireplace in the parlor
were the blue Dutch tiles much affected in
the decorative architecture of the time.
What a priceless scrap of bric-a-brac to a
modern collector w^ould be one of those
same enameled squares, bedight wdth a rep-
resentation of Adj^a/iams Offering, or Moses
Breaking the Tables of the Law, the tents
of Israel, like a row of sharp haystacks,
almost touching his knees, although osten-
sibly dwarfed in perspective until the whole
camp was smaller than the tablets he hurled
to earth ! — the tiles that once reflected
rosily the thoughtful face of the young wife,
and gave distorted images of the blonde
giant, her nominal lord and master ; that,
by and by, missed the musing face and
slighter figure for a time, and then showed
a double picture, — a visage paler and
sweeter than of old, bent over the baby that
was, from the beginning, the image of his
mother. In the one-storied chamber the
44 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Moses of the New World was born, and the
mother nursed the goodly child upon her
bosom in gladness and pride of heart until
tlie birth of the little Betty in June, 1733.
Between the stepmotlier and the two
sturdy sons of Mr. Washington's first mar-
riasre there existed cordial frendliness from
the hour of her installation as mistress of
the modest mansion. An elderly kins-
w^oman had cared for them during their
father's protracted absence, but with the
recollection of their own mother, hardly two
years dead, in their memories, it spoke well
for the little fellows, as for the new mother,
that they yielded her respectful duty. Her
early life had made every detail of country
housekeeping familiar to her. The retinue
of servants was perhaps larger than that at
Epping Forest had been, and the appoint-
ments of the house may have included rel-
ics of such grand living as had befitted
Cave Castle, and went well with the stories,
told over the logs on winter nights, of
court-visits and royal preferment. Apostles
of Democracy, though the Washingtons
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 45
called themselves, they were ingrain aristo-
crats, — the greatest of them not excepted.
It was Impossible for them then, as now, to
forget the august procession of warriors
and scholars who had borne high In peace
and In war the emblem of the closed visor,
the ducal coronet capped by a soaring ra
yen, and the motto, pregnant with prophecy,
— " Excitus acta probatT
The one tragical Incident in this chapter
of Mary Washington's w^edded life — a tale
of tranquil happiness, Arcadian in simpli-
city and beauty — was the violent death of
a girl visitor, an intimate friend of the mis-
tress of the manor. The two women were
sitting at supper together while a thunder-
storm was raghig, thoughtless of fear or
danger, when a flash of lightning struck
the young girl, melting the knife and fork
in her hand, and killing her instantly. The
nervous shock left ineffaceable traces upon
the strong: mind of Mrs. \VashinQ;ton. Cour-
ageous at all other times, she grew pale
and sick at the approach of a thunder-storm,
and at the first roll and gleam of the deadly
46 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
elements sought her own room or sat with
closed eves and folded hands, absorbed in
silent prayer while it lasted. The electrical
play restored in all its vividness the scene
photographed by that scathing " flash light "
upon brain and heart.
Mrs. Ella Bassett Washino^ton recounts
that, " On one occasion the daughter, miss-
ing her mother, and knowing how she suf-
fered, found her kneeling by the bed with
her face buried in the pillows, praying.
Upon rising, she said, ' I have been striv-
ing for years against this w^eakness, for you
know, Betty, my trust is in God ; but
sometimes my fears are stronger than my
faith.' "
The Wakefield library was small, a straw
of circumstantial evidence in support of the
belief that the tastes of the handsome, ath-
letic master were not intellectual. It was
high noon of the Augustan age of English
literature, and the Old Dominion, more
than any other colony, was a faithful reflec-
tion of what went on in the mother-country.
Mr. Cooke's picture of plantation life in the
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 47
eighteenth century, which he calls " The
Golden Age of Virginia," is graphic and
beautiful : —
" Care seemed to keep away from it and
stand out of its sunshine. The planter in
his manor-house, surrounded by his family
and retainers, was a feudal patriarch, mildly
ruling everybody. He drank wholesome
wine, sherry or canary, of his own importa-
tion ; entertained every one ; held great fes-
tivities at Christmas, with huge log-fires in
the great fireplaces around which the family
clan gathered ; and everybody, high and low,
seemed to be happy. It was the life of
the family, not of the great world, and pro-
duced that intense attachment for the soil
which had become proverbial ; which made
a Virginian once say, ' If I had to leave
Virginia, I would not know where to go,'
. . . Such luxuries as w^ere desired, books,
wines, silks, and laces, were brought from
London to the planter's wharf in exchange
for his tobacco ; and he was content to pay
well for all, if he could thereby escape liv-
ing in towns."
)
48 77/>^' STOA'V OF MARY WASHINGTON
The precedence given, in the Hst of luxu-
ries, to hooks is not accidentah WilHam Eve-
lyn Byrd's j-rincipality of Westover was, as
the crow flies, less than seventy miles from
Wakefield, and the stately suzerain's pro-
gresses included visits to the Rappahannock
plantations and the cultivation of social re-
lations with his brother magnates. The
Byrd library was the finest in America, the
owner the most accomplished man on this
side of the sea, and there were few on the
other side whose learning exceeded his.
The Virginia planters and their families
were usually omnivorous readers, and every
country-house held a choice collection of
classics to which every year brought ad-
ditions. The masters of English essay and
song were as well known in the new as in
the old country ; the portraits hung against
whitewashed and wainscoted w^alls were
by Hudson and Kneller and Vandyke;
gentlemen and gentlewomen read together,
with proper emphasis and discretion, the
Beggars Ope7^a, and Midsummer Night's
Dream, and Paradise Lost, in country-houses
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 49
in rainy weather, and got up masquerades
and private theatricals at Christmas, and
made polite talk of " Shakes.peare and the
musical glasses " as airily as did the belles
and gallants of court circles in the mother-
land they never forgot.
All this being true, the fact that the
bookshelves in the room with the Dutch-
tiled chimney-piece held few except devo-
tional works, while gratifying proof that the
religious faith of the fathers had descended
to the third and fourth generations, implies
that the robust intellect of the wife was not
likely to be lured to higher flights by the
husband's example. The thrifty planter
had set a thrifty wife and mistress over the
Westmoreland home. Whatever may be
said of him, it is certain that she left upon
everything she handled the stamp of a vig-
orous personality. One biographer relates,
casually, and not consciously in evidence of
this, that one of the volumes in the Wake-
field library — Sir Matthew Hales Con-
templations, Mortal and Divine — had be-
longed to her predecessor Jane, and bore
so ThE^ STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
upon the fly-leaf the signature of the first
wife. Directly beneath this, the second put
in her reversionary claim in full by inscrib-
ing " and Mary Washingto7i "in characters
that have a dogged assertiveness of their
own to the imagination of the amused
reader. Jane, nee Butler, had had her day
and opportunity. She had done with earthly
belongings and helps. Mary wanted all the
room she could get for growth and action.
This volume, worn by many readings
and defaced — or embellished — by numer-
ous marginal pencilings, was treasured by
George Washington as long as he lived.
One chapter, which we may fancy to our-
selves the mother reading aloud to her sons
on the many Sundays when there w^as no
service in the parish church, is entitled —
Of the Vanity and Vexation whicJi ariseth
from Worldly Hope and Expectation. It
was a lesson she had learned by heart be-
fore she sat down in Jane Washington's
place, or wrote her name beneath that
traced by the fingers now mouldering in
the vault on Bridge's Creek.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 5 1
We note with respect, not unmixed with
awe, that the essay The Great Audit, —
the solemn searching of heart and summing
up of and for himself of England's great
and good chief-justice, — was used by the
mother as a lesson to be committed to
memory by her children. What pious pre-
science dictated for her eldest boy a study
that closes with these words ? —
" When Thy honor, or the good of my
country was concerned, I then thought it
was a seasonable time to lay out my repu-
tation for the advantage of either, and to
act with it, and by it, and upon it, to the
highest, in the use of all lawful means.
And upon such an occasion, the counsel of
Mordecai to Esther was my encourage-
ment : ' Who knoweth whether God hath not
given thee this reputation and esteem for
sicch a time as this ? ' "
Baby Betty was but sixteen months old
when, in November, 1734, a second son
(Samuel) was added to the household
group. Upon a windy April day in the
following year, sparks were carried from a
52 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
burning brush-heap in the garden to the
tinder-hke shingles of the roof, which was
in flames before the mishap was discovered.
Mr. WashinQ-ton was absent, and when
satisfied that the efforts made by the negro
men to save the building would be useless,
the mistress set the example to the women
of bringing out the furniture, clothing, and
other articles of value and carrying them to
a place of safety. This done, without wast-
ing time in lamentation over the loss of
the first home of her married life, she called
all hands to assist in making up beds and
getting supper ready in the kitchen, — a
mere cabin that had not been seized upon
by the flames.
CHAPTER IV.
Instead of rebuilding upon the site of
the burnt homestead, Augustine Wash-
ington removed his family and household
effects to a plantation he owned in Stafford
County. It was upon the Rappahannock
River, and opposite the town of Fredericks-
burg. The situation was commanding, and
the garden and orchard were in better cul-
tivation than those they had left. The
house was, like that at Wakefield, broad
and low, with the same number of rooms
upon the ground floor, one of them in the
shed-like extension at the back, and the
spacious attic was over the main building.
Even the great chimneys were upon the
same .plan and of like proportions with
those marking the spot where the older
house had stood. The place was called by
the family " Pine Grove," from a noble
bodv of these trees near it, but was better
54 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
known in the surrounding country as " Ferry
Farm." There was then no briclQ:e over
the Rappahannock, and communication was
had with the town by the neighboring
ferry.
The Washingtons' church connection was
with Overwharton Parish. In Bishop
Meade's chapter upon this we have an in-
teresting letter from Hon. Peter V. Daniel,
then Judge of the Supreme Court, written
in 1855, which contains the only printed
memorandum I have been able to find of
" Hannah Ball, half-sister of Mary Ball, the
mother of General Georcre Washington."
According to the distinguished jurist, who
assuredly should have known whereof he
wrote, she married his great-grandfather
Rowleigh [sic) Travers, " one of the most
extensive landed proprietors in that part of
the country, and from them proceeded a
long line of descendants." Judge Daniel re-
marks in conclusion, of Overwharton Parish
which covered the narrow county of Staf-
ford, that " the space of some eight or ten
miles square comprised none but substan-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 55
tial people, some of them deemed wealthy
in their day, several, of them persons of
education, polish, and refinement."
Following the interesting clue thus of-
fered, I have been so fortunate as to obtain
from a living representative of the Daniel
family a few additional and charmingly sug-
gestive particulars relative to Mrs. Wash-
ington's near kinswom.an.
*' Hannah Ball was a half-sister of Mary
Washington, and married Raleigh Travers
(said to have been of the same blood as Sir
Walter Raleigh). The daughter of Han-
nah (Ball) Travers married Peter Daniel.
Their daughter, Hannah Daniel, it is said,
once danced with General Washington,
who gallantly expressed his pleasure at
finding that he had such a pretty cousin."
The knowledge that IMrs. Washington in
her new abode was in the same parish with
her half-sister, and of Mrs. Travers's stand-
ins: ss wife of the American founder of a
family distinguished in the later history of
Virginia for breeding, learning, and elo-
quence, casts a pleasing light upon the mo-
56 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
tives that may have caused the removal of
Auo^ustine WashiiiG^ton to Stafford. Much
happiness must have come to his wife
through this step. She dwelt once more
among her own people. Her attachments
were powerful, as is often the case with
natures that are reckoned undemonstrative
by casual acquaintances. The rupture, one
after another, of the ties that bound her to
the home of her childhood knit but the
more firmly the few that remained.
The newer, sweeter bonds of mother-
hood were increased by the birth of John
Augustine Washington, in January, 1736;
and of Charles, in May, 1738. Close upon
his heels, in 1739, came a second baby-
daughter, a joyful apparition after the suc-
cessive advents of three boys. Mildred,
named for the aunt who had stood sponsor
for George, died when about fourteen
months old, and Betty, now a winsome
maid of seven, remained thenceforward the
only daughter.
Before the ache in the mother's heart
was dulled by time, the crowning grief of
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 5/
her life fell upon her. Augustine Wash-
ington, like many other gentlemen of his
day and habits, had suffered vicariously for
the high living of his ancestors in repeated
attacks of rheumatic gout. One is re-
minded that disregard of weather which
prudent men w^ould not brave is also, some-
times, hereditary, in reading that he con-
tracted his last illness, as his more illustri-
ous son fifty-six years afterward tempted
his, by riding over his plantation for sev-
eral hours in a cold rain-storm. In both
cases, Nature's retribution was quick and
awful. During the night succeeding his
exposure, Mr. Washington was racked by
excruciating pains, and with morning in-
flammation set in. In a week he died.
"Augustine Washington Departed this life
ye 1 2th day of April, 1743, aged 49 years,"
is the last record upon the page that gives
in brief the history of the joint life bounded
by the w^edding and the death day.
They took him back to Westmoreland
County, and laid him in the vault upon
Bridge's Creek.
58 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
It is in keeping with the apathy that pre-
vails throughout the Southern, and in some
of the Middle States, with respect to the
last resting-places of those whom family
and friends delighted to honor while living,
that the Washington vault should to-day be
as neglected and almost as undistinguishable
from the surrounding fields as is the birth-
place of George Washington. Forty years
ago it was described as " in an open field,
and uninclosed. A small space around it
is covered with grass, briers, shrubs, and a
few small trees. Itself can only be dis-
tinguished by the top of the brick arch
which rises a little above the surface. The
cavity underneath has been very properly
filled up with earth to prevent the bones of
the dead from being taken away by visitors
who had thus begun to pillage it."
In reading this we must not forget that
the family vault w^as reckoned a safe and a
sacred repository for the precious dust com-
mitted to it w^hen Mary Washington buried
her dead out of her sight and, returning to
the house thus suddenlv bereft of the head,
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 59
gathered the fatherless children about her,
and took up with both hands life as God
had made it for her. She was thirty-seven
years of age. Those who maintain that the
circumstances of her widowhood moulded
her character and habits, developing latent
germs of intelligence and judgment, leave
the iliatter of asre out of sio^ht. She was
too mature to be put to school, even by
affliction. What she was as the guardian
of her husband's children and comptroller
of his estates she had been before she was
left alone. Association with him may have
been a goodly staff ; it was never a crutch.
According to the reports of various contem-
poraries, she sustained her bereavement
with Christian fortitude. One writer re-
cords that " she submitted to the Divine
Will with the strength of a philosopher and
the trustfulness of a Christian. . . . She
seemed alike indifferent to the smitinors of
affliction and the tenderness of human svm-
pathy. Above all the tumult of emotion
she heard the commands of Duty, and
obeyed them."
6o THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Others recount likewise the story that
with the assumption of her weeds, features
and bearing took on gravity and decision
that never left them. There were five of
her own children, — all under twelve years
of age, whose guardian she was made by
the terms of her husband's will. One
clause of this instrument provokes u^ to a
smile, chased aw^ay by a thoughtful frown : —
" It is my will that my said four sons'
estates may be left in my wdfe's hand until
they respectively attain the age of Twenty
One years, in case my said wife continues so
Ion or u n niaj^riedr
Frankly, we wish the thrifty planter who
understood so well how to make and to
keep money, and who had presumably
trained the wife so much his junior in like
wisdom, had left out this proviso. Should
she, his discreet relict, at thirty-seven, imi-
tate the example he, wdien three years
younger than that, had set her, he should
have been sure enough, after thirteen years
of wedded trustfulness, of her sense of jus-
tice and her integrity, if not of her maternal
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 6\
love, to confide the material interests of their
boys to her hands. Let us hope that the
Q^rave-faced widow was as indifferent to the
condition as she appeared to be. The sec-
ond niarriac^es of her own father and of her
children's father may have accustomed her
to contemplate these as probable contin-
gencies, and reason may have arisen so
far above sentimentality as to lead her to
applaud the sagacity of her long-sighted
spouse. The will was, in the main, equi-
table, and devised specifically more property
than most of his acquaintances had sup-
posed the testator to possess. The family
had lived comfortably, but hardly luxuri-
ously ; extravagance was opposed to the
principles of both husband and wdfe. The
broad vein of thrift and the economical
instincts that characterized the business
dealings of their son George were as much
an inheritance as his incorruptible integrity.
To Laurence Washington, a splendid
young fellow of twenty -six, made by his
father's death the head of the family, was be-
queathed a larger fortune than to any other
62 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
of the heirs. To \\\x\\ fell the fine estate
Gt Hunting Creek, — a name he afterward
changed to " Mount Vernon," in compli-
ment to a British admiral. It lay along the
Potomac River, and contained twenty-five
hundred acres. The fisheries connected
with it were exceedingly valuable and the
lands fertile. He received other real estate,
and shares in the iron-works established by
Governor Spotswoode and his brother-capi-
talists. Augustine had Wakefield and Hey-
wood in Westmoreland. The Stafford
property, including Pine Grove, fell to
George; Samuel, John, and Charles had
about seven hundred acres apiece, a toler-
able portion for younger brothers. Betty's
fortune was principally in money well-in-
vested. The entire income of the five chil-
dren Mary Ball had borne him was subject
to her management during their minority.
Her only adviser in America was her
step-son Laurence. The two were always
firm friends, each recognizing the sterling
worth of the other. With genuine good
sense and feeling the second wife trained
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 63
her own children to look up to him as their
father's representative, and his business con-
ferences with her were as with another man.
In her home she required no backing. Her
will was law, her rules were a code from
which there was no appeal. Life at Pine
Grove differed little from w^hat it had been
in the father's day, except that the mother
superintended the plantation work as well
as that within doors. Nearly everything
used upon the place was likewise raised
and manufactured there. Cotton was then
extensively cultivated in Virginia. It was
gathered, spun, and woven under the mis-
tress's eyes, the tedious process of picking
out the seed being performed by the negro
children. Wool w'as also a staple of the
region, and every stage of the preparation
of the fleece passed under the same vigi-
lance, — washing, carding, spinning, and
weaving into linsey-woolsey and stouter
fabrics. Flax was raised, but in small
quantities, and the little wheels, that now
take their place among the curiosities of
our parlors, wdiirled and buzzed under the
64 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
house-mother's foot when the heavier tasks
of the day were done. The garments worn
by the servants and the every-day clothes
of the whites were cut out by her, or un-
der her direction by seamstresses she had
trained, and were made up in " the cham-
ber," where she sat, Hke Lucretia, with her
maids about her. Not a pound of sugar,
or lard, not a quart of meal, or flour, or
molasses, vinegar, cider, or whiskey was con-
sumed in " the house," or kitchen, or " quar-
ters," that had not been weighed or mea-
sured by her. All commodities were kept
under lock and key, and her key-basket of
stout wickerwork, lined and covered with
leather, went with her everywhere but to
church. On Sundays it was locked up in
a closet, and she carried the closet key at
her girdle, with silver-handled scissors, pin-
cushion, and nutmeg grater.
Except in cases of dangerous illness, she
was physician and apothecary whenever
medical aid was required upon the planta-
tion ; head-nurse, let the sufferer be her own
child, or a field-hand at the farthest " quar-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 65
ter," — watching for whole nights together
over the sick or dying, and administering
every dose of medicine wdth her own hands.
The pickling, preserving, and potting of a
private family was a formidable undertaking
a century before "canned goods" were put
upon the market; the kilHng and curing
season, when bacon was " put up " by the
thousand and tens of thousands of pounds,
was a gigantic enterprise achieved annually.
All these concerns in all their details the
mistress of a plantation carried upon her
mind. The neQ:roes were no better than
grown-up children, and she bore their cares
and assumed the responsibilities of their
physical, moral, and spiritual condition.
It was a stern period in domestic govern-
ment, — and what wonder ? Children feared,
in honoring the parents who had well-nigh
the power of life and death over them. The
household was an absolute monarchy. The
child who seated himself in the presence
of mother or father, unless bidden to do so,
would have been ordered from the room by
the one, or knocked down by the other.
66 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
He spoke when spoken to, and respectfully;
he wore what was put upon him, and until
he was twenty-one came and went at the
parental command, as mindlessly as a ma-
chine. It is not true, although often as-
serted, that the system of slavery was re-
sponsible for this state of affairs at the
South. In Puritan New England the like
prevailed, and with greater severity. It was
the temper of a comparatively rude people,
and of a time when the Old Testament was
more read than the New. The process
made stout wood of growing natures that
were not too delicate to endure it. If the
result were the survival of the fittest the
survivors were very fit for the work of the
aore and of the world.
Laurence Washington was married, on
the 19th of the July succeeding his father's
death, to Anne Fairfax, the wedding having
been postponed in consequence of that
event. The bride's father, Hon. William
Fairfax, was the master of Belvoir, an ele-
gant estate adjoining Mount Vernon, which
last-named place became the home of the
newly wedded pair.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 6/
The influence of this alHance with the
Fairfaxes upon the character and destiny
of George Washington was great. How
wholesome was the tendency of the inti-
macy that grew up between Laurence's
father-in-law and the promising " big boy "
may be surmised from an extract of a let-
ter introduced here, — not in chronolosfical
sequence, but to illustrate the nature of the
counsels given by the older of the friends,
and the material upon which these wrought.
Washington was at the age of twenty-two
in command of a camp at Fort Necessity,
among the Alleghanies, guarding an im-
portant pass against the French and Indi-
ans. William Fairfax writes to him as to
an equal and coadjutor: —
" I will not doubt your having public
prayer in the camp, especially when the
Indian families are your guests, that they,
seeing your plain manner of worship, may
have their curiosity to be informed why we
do not use the ceremonies of the French,
which, being well-explained to their under-
standings, will more and more dispose them
68 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
to receive our baptism and unite in strict
bonds of cordial friendship."
This is another crevice-rav that strikes
unexpectedly across the subject we are con-
sidering, bringing into relief that which we
could not spare without doing injustice to
the harmonious whole. At Laurence's mar-
riage and removal to his own home, the
patriarchal duty of saying grace at meals
and reading prayers night and morning
would have devolved upon the next eldest
son. Knowing, as we do, the strict rules
that guided the household of her who was
henceforward called '' Madam W^ashington,"
we cannot doubt that to the eleven-year-old
boy the task was assigned, and that it was
performed with solemn decorum. In a
treatise upon the Religious Opinions and
Character of Washington, Rev. E. C. Mc-
Guire, of Fredericksburg, invites notice to
the truth that the child was baptized " at a
time when care was taken to instruct the
children in our holy religion, according to
the Scriptures as set forth in the standards
of the Episcopal Church," and transcribes
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 69
certain passages from a set of " Resolu-
tions " drawn up privately for his own use
by Madam Washington's oldest son when
but thirteen years of age. One is : " When
you speak of God or His attributes, let it
be seriously, in reverence."
Another: " Labour to keep alive in your
heart that little spark of celestial fire called
conscience."
Again : " Let your conversation be with-
out malice or envy, for it is a sign of a
tractable and commendable nature, and in
all causes of passion admit reason to gov-
ern.
Whether this code, which embraces rules
for the government of behavior in company,
at table, and in business, be a compilation
from various (to us) unknown sources, or —
what is scarcely credible — the composition
of the lad himself, it is a remarkable paper,
as betraying depth and steadiness of charac-
ter almost unparalleled in one of his years.
From birth, the imprint of the stronger
hatured parent was upon her firstborn, —
the man she felt she had gotten from the
70 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Lord. He was emphatically, although not
in the sentimental significance usually at-
tached to the phrase, "a mother's boy." In
later years he expressed his appreciation of
this vital truth in blunt, sincere terms he
misfht have learned from herself. " All that
I am I owe to my mother " is one of the
best-known of his sayings.
I have written thus far to little purpose
if I have not made it plain that this wo-
man, upon whom was laid the charge of
an immense estate and the education of
five children, had no store of what are
rated as polite accomplishments. What-
ever may have been the promise of personal
graces in her comparatively careless youth,
she was now neither brilliant nor hand-
some. Life was a terribly earnest matter
with her, and her demeanor showed that
she felt it to be such. She had never been
idle or self-indulgent. After her husband's
death doubled her daily duties she became
a proverb for incessant diligence. Every
minute of her wakinor hours was filled with
a specific task. Method became almost
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 7 1
mania. It followed, inevitably, that she
was a strict task-mistress, disposed to be as
intolerant of indolence as of sin. Her
carriage was upright, her manner dignified;
although not talkative, she expressed her-
self clearly and with force, and her choice
of words would have done credit to many a
queen of polite society. A nephew of her
husband — Laurence Washington, of Cho-
tank — writinof manv years afterward of this
period of her life, has left us his impres-
sions of his uncle s widow : —
" I was often here [at Pine Grove]
with George, his playmate, schoolmate, and
young man s companion. Of the mother, I
was more afraid than of my own parents ;
she awed me in the midst of her kindness ;
and even now, when time has whitened my
locks and I am the grandfather of a second
generation, I could not behold that majestic
woman without feelings it is impossible to
describe."
Another, whose opportunities of intimate
acquaintance with her disposition and hab-
its were ample, has recorded that " there
72 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
was a plain honesty and truth about her,
peculiar to that age, and which has been
ill exchanged for empty professions and out-
ward polish. As 'a native of Virginia, she
was hospitable by birthright, and always re-
ceived her visitors with a smilinof w^elcome:
but they were never asked to stay but once,
and she always speeded the parting guest
by affording every facility in her power.
She possessed all those domestic habits and
qualities which confer value on woman, but
had no desire to be distinguished by other
titles than those of a good wife and mother."
To this date belongs the story of the
sorrel colt which George, probably in con-
scious emulation of Alexander, determined
to master. The experiment ended in the
death of the fiery young horse, who broke a
blood-vessel in a futile attempt to dislodge
the lad from his back. It so chanced that
the mother's first question when her son
and his companions returned to the house
was whether or not they had seen the sorrel
colt. Mr. Custis and Dr. Lossing have
combined to thrust a speech into the cul-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 73
prit's mouth, which no boy, even of that
stilted day, ever delivered as an impromptu ;
but in whatever style he replied, the facts
were told, promptly and squarely. The
widow stru2:2fled for a second with the tem-
per she had not lost in passing it down to
her child, then replied to the effect that she
was sorry the horse was dead, but glad that
her boy had spoken the truth.
The anecdote, albeit but a trifle less
threadbare than the hatchet myth, is a rep-
resentative incident, and not to be omitted
from the history of mother or son.
CHAPTER V.
Brother Joseph, the London barrister,
who would seem to have been masterful by
nature, became a trifle pragmatical with the
advance of years, a foible his sister did not
suspect, or which she was willing to over-
look in consideration of his relationship to
herself and the guardianly oflice he had
once held. She had consulted him as to
the terms of settlement of certain accounts
of the estate with Laurence Washington at
the time of her step-son's marriage, and
had taken his advice, which was wise and
just. She applied to him for counsel in a
matter of more vital interest when George
was fourteen years old.
Laurence Washington had served as cap-
tain in a Virginia regiment under General
W^entworth and Admiral Vernon, in the
united attack of naval and land forces upon
Cartagena, South America, in 1741. Im-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 75
paired health, the consequence of illness
contracted during tlie siege, hindered the
fulfillment of his intention of joining the
British army, and making the profession of
arms his life-work. The Rappahannock
plantations and Fredericksburg, the one
town of consequence upon the river, have
always furnished a quota of men and offi-
cers to the navy far in excess of what
might be considered their natural propor-
tion of seafaring people. One might sup-
pose that the conditions, physical or men-
tal, of the region are peculiarly favorable
to the development of a longing for mari-
time adventure. With his mother's sanc-
tion, George Washington paid many and
long visits to Mount Vernon, she judging
sensibly that the society gathered about
her favorite step-son and his charming wife
would be a liberal education for the fast-
growing country-boy. There, and at Bel-
voir, he met English and colonial military
men, officers of the army and navy, and
the martial fire that had glowed in his
English ancestor John, and w^armed the
^6 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
pulses of the half-brother he loved and re-
vered, was kindled in the listener's heart,
while the veterans fought their battles over
again, and predicted other struggles before
permanent peace could be assured.
After each of these visits he went back
to his mother with the eager petition that
she would allow him to enter the British
navy, a request seconded by Laurence's
powerful influence. The mother hesitated
and argued, — an unusual course of action
in one so prompt to decide, so energetic in
deed. But she must have seen ere this
that the eldest of her brood was an eaglet
who could not long be detained in the nest.
He was tall for his fourteen years, remark-
ably robust and fearless of hardships. In
the steady purpose to attain a thorough
education, after learning all that could be
taught him in an " old field school," — kept
by Hobby, pedagogue and sexton, and the
most conceited man in three parishes, —
the lad made a daily journey on horseback
in winter and summer to what was con-
sidered a better school among the hills ten
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 77
miles away, and the next year rowed morn-
ing and evening in the roughest w^eather
across the river to the Fredericksburg
Academy, the same in W'hich two other
Presidents, Madison and Monroe, were
afterward prepared for college. That he
would have a career in a day when history
was in making was evident, and the mother,
if not ambitious for him, w^as so far in sym-
pathy with his restlessness under the limi-
tations of his present life that she heark-
ened patiently to his arguments, reinforced
by those of Laurence Washington, Mr. Fair-
fax, and the family physician, who repre-
sented the advantages of an active life in the
open air for her boy. She had written to
her brother shortly after the subject was
broached, but his answer was delayed so
long that before receiving it she yielded to
the combined pressure brought to bear
upon her.
The lad's midshipman's warrant in the
British navy w^as procured in the winter
of 1746-47 by the influence of his half-
brother, and preparations w^ere begun, gayly
7?> THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
by George, sadly enough by his mother,
for his outfit and departure.
Still another side-light falls athwart a fea-
ture of Madam VVashino^ton's character that
proves her mortal, and for once neither un-
like nor superior to the majority of mothers.
Mr. Robert Jackson, of Fredericksburg, the
friend of both parties to the controversy,
writes confidentially to Laurence Washing-
ton : —
" I am afraid Mrs. Washington will not
keep up to her first resolution. She seems
to dislike George's going to sea, and says
several persons have told her it was a bad
schem.e. She offers several trifiing objec-
tions, such as a fond, unthinking mother
habitually suggests, and I find that one
word against his going has more weight
than ten for it."
Mr. Robert Jackson was very man, and
an audacious one at that, in that he could
couple the phrase " fond, unthinking mo-
ther " with the name of the Spartan parent
who, having put personal preference behind
her, honestly believed that she scanned the
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 79
projected " scheme " critically for her child's
sake, and that alone. She knew the perils
to morals and to life attendant upon the
profession selected for him, and had before
her a livins^ evidence of some of these in
the condition of Laurence dying by inches
of pestilence-poison taken into his system
during the horrible experiences of Carta-
gena, when thousands of his comrades died
of the plague, if she lent ear to what
*' several persons " said, it was because her
heart trembled, and her judgment had been
convinced against her will by the impas-
sioned pleadings of her boy, and the calmer
advocacy of his cause on the part of men of
the world who held Mr. Jackson's views as
to women's ability to see both sides of a
question, and to weigh evidence.
While in this distressing incertitude, she
received the long-expected letter from
Brother Joseph. It was dated May 19,
1747, and couched in the barristers most
characteristic style : —
" I understand that you are advised and
have some thoughts of putting your son
8o THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
George to sea. I think he had better be
put apprentice to a tinker, for a common
sailor before the mast has by no means the
comimon liberty of the subject ; for they
will press him from ship to ship, where he
has fifty shillings a month, and make him
take twenty-three, and cut and slash and
use him like a negro, or rather like a dog.
And as to any considerable preferment in
the navy, it is not to be expected, as there
are so many gaping for it here who have
interest, and he has none. And if he
should get to be master of a Virginia ship
(which is very difficult to do), a planter who
has three or four hundred acres of land,
and three or four slaves, if he be industri-
ous, may live more comfortably, and have
his family in better bread than such a mas-
ter of a ship can. . . .
" He must not be too hasty to be rich,
but go on gently and with patience as
things will naturally go. This method,
without aiming at being a fine gentleman
before his time, will carry a man more com-
fortably and surely through the world than
THE STORY OF MARY WASHTXGTON 8 1
going to sea, unless it be a great chance in-
deed. I pray God to keep you and yours.
" Your loving brother,
" Joseph Ball."
Either the lad's mother, who never put
pen to paper if she could help it, had failed
to make clear what were George's prospects
and desires, or the conservative cockney
had read the letter carelessly. The epistle
bristles with British prejudice, and, in its
almost brutal frankness, is a painful sug-
gestion of what had been his sister's life
while a member of his household, and under
his command. His contempt for provincial
opinions and ambitions matches his igno-
rance of the real state of affairs in the col-
ony in which he was born. Notwithstand-
ing his many visits to Virginia, and his
pecuniary interest in her improvement, he
had no appreciation of her progress during
the last quarter-century. Ah ! if that finest
of old Virginia gentlemen — William Byrd
— impregnable in the conviction that his
State was the goodliest land the sun ever
82 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
shone upon, and exultant in presages of her
glorious future, could have sat down oppo-
site the dogmatic lawyer in the Westover
drawing-room, and, transfixing liim with his
shining dark eyes, — have had his way with
him for an hour ! It would have been the
encounter of stag-hound and bull-terrier.
What did the Londoner reck of the bril-
liant gatherings at Belvoir and Mount Ver-
non, when men before whom he and his
fellow- citizens would have stood cap-in-
hand encouraged the ardent boy in his
hopes and spurred his mettled spirit ; how
guess — when he said flatly of govern-
mental influence, "Z/^'has none" — at the
midshipman's commission obtained for his
provincial nephew by the fond brother,
whose dear friend was Admiral Vernon,
and whose companion-in-arms was General
Wentworth ? How was he to divine that
the raw lad w^ho, he advised, should be
bound to a tinker sooner than have his
way, and whom he cautioned patronizingly
against being a fine gentleman before his
time, was already the favorite companion
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 83
of Thomas Lord Fairfax; a peer of the
reahn, an Oxonian by education, a member
of the Spectator Club, and the owner of
all the lands in the Northern Neck, between
the Rappahannock and the Potomac, and
the Blue Ridge and the Chesapeake ?
It is a woeful pity that we have no record
or tradition of the manner in which the
nephews and their alHes received this as-
tonishingly bumptious and fatuous commu-
nication. It must have read to them like
impertinent fustian, that would have been
beneath contempt but for the effect it had
upon George's mother. Respect for and
obedience to Brother Joseph had grown
into her character during the formative
time passed under his shadow at Epping
Forest. He would ever be to her loyal soul
the chief of her clan. Her clear eyes could
not but see that he was fighting as wildly
as a blindfolded bruiser, his heaviest blows
beating the air; but the remembered crack
of the whip appealed to memory and con-
science, and, wise head though hers was,
the babble of press-gangs and floggings
84 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
had some effect, if only because it echoed
her own boding dreams. She made up her
mind upon the spot. No time was to be
lost. George had his uniform, the natty
midshipman's cap, and in the belt the
jaunty little dirk, that gave it the true mar-
tial touch. His luggage was on board of a
British man-of-war moored in the Potomac.
To-morrow her eaglet would have flown.
Armed with Brother Joseph's letter, she
sought his presence and refused positively
to let him go. When he rebelled, for the
first time in his life, and passed from argu-
ment to pleading, her rare tears burst forth;
the " fond, unthinking mother" eclipsed the
rigid matron, and the son, terrified by her
emotion, bowed to her will.
Barrister Joseph builded better than he
knew, but while America owes her freedom
to his besotted pugnacity, gratitude is due,
not to him, but to the Divine Wisdom that
makes the stupidity as well as the wrath of
man to praise Him for his wonderful works
to the children of men.
After what the mother-heart must often
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 85
have reckoned a Pyrrhian victory over the
dearest wishes of the gallant boy whose
filial obedience under the crucial test en-
hanced her appreciation of his noble na-
ture, Madam Washington suffered him to
spend most of his time with^the half-brother
who shared his disappointment. She would
not thwart him again when opposition could
be avoided, and a common chagrin had
knit the brothers' hearts yet more closely
tosrether. In the effort to overcome his re-
grets at the frustration of his best hopes,
George turned with redoubled diligence to
the study he liked best, that of mathe-
matics. His mother gladly engaged a pri-
vate tutor for him in the higher branches of
the science, and under him George learned
what was his first step to success, — land
surveying. At sixteen, through the Fair-
fax influence, he received the extraordinary
— considering his years — appointment of
public surveyor. In the practice of his pro-
fession he resided at Mount Vernon, visit-
ing his mother often, and gradually taking
Laurence's place as manager and adviser.
86 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
It is to his eternal honor that not an inti-
mation is given by contemporary or sub-
sequent historians that tlie painful epi-
sode, to him approximating a tragedy,
tinged with bitterness his feelings toward
her who had given him birth. He was her
staunch champion then and ever. She was
his mother, — therefore always right.
He held Governor Dinwiddies commis-
sion as major, and was drawing $750 per
annum as commandant of a miHtary posi-
tion, when a call nearer home diverted
thought and service. The gallant fight
made by his best-beloved brother against
the insidious malady that was undermining
his system was near its end. Accompanied
by George, he sailed for the West Indies in
the autumn of 1751, and, continuing to fail
after his arrival, sent back his brother to
bring his wife to him. He returned to
Mount Vernon in June, 1752, and lived but
a few weeks longer. He was buried at
Mount Vernon.
Three out of the four children born of
this marriage had preceded the father into
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 8/
the other world. Evidently comprehending
that the survivor must share the fate of
the rest by reason of inherent delicacy of
constitution, he directed in his will that in
case of her demise without issue, Mount
Vernon should become the property of his
brother George. Within the year the
youthful major received a legacy he must
have accepted with an aching heart. Short
space was allowed him for enjoyment of his
new possessions. In 1753, although only
one-and-twenty years of age, he was ap-
pointed by Robert Dinwiddie, then gover-
nor of the State of Virginia, to be the
bearer of dispatches to the French com-
mander St. Pierre. The route desis^nated
for the envoy and his small party was
throuo;h a wild and savaore countrv; the
month, November. He called to see his
mother on the way to Williamsburg, and
explained to her the nature of his mission.
She heard and questioned him calmly, of-
fering no objections to the enterprise she
saw was fraught with peril. AMth her fare-
well kiss she bade him " remember that
88 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
God only is our sure trust. To Him I
commend you."
In the strength of that trust she awaited
with outward tranquilHty the passage of the
forty-odd days that elapsed before her hero
presented himself in her presence with the
news of the triumphs of the little expedi-
tion.
In 1755 came a summons from the newly-
arrived General Braddock, who was sent to
America to put an end to the French and
Indian warfare that threatened the exist-
ence of the colonies. The fame of the
Virginia colonel reached him as soon as he
landed in America, and he offered an hon-
orable and flattering command to the am-
bitious youth. Before accepting it, Wash-
ington held another conference with his
mother. The news of the offer, tempting
to him and terrifying to her, drove her to
pay a hasty visit to Mount Vernon.
It is surprising that artist and poet have
passed over this interview in the quest
for the picturesque in American history.
Mount Vernon was one of the notable plan-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 89
tation houses of the riverside, although less
spacious than now, and the proprietor was
the rising man of the colony. A portrait
of him in his colonel's uniform is that of a
magnificently built man with a kingly port
and face. The birthright of leadership was
stamped upon him ; his manners had al-
ready the serious dignity that distinguished
him as Commander-in-Chief of the Conti-
nental Army, and President of the United
States. Upon his return from the inter-
view with Braddock, he was met upon the
threshold of his home by his mother. She
was now in her fiftieth year, and clad
plainly, in widow's weeds. Without pre-
amble, she opened the case with a strenu-
ous appeal to him not to risk a life so dear
to her and so valuable to his country in an
expedition led by the dashing Irishman,
whose renown for reckless bravery had pre-
ceded him. Important interests in county
and colony required the services of one
of the laro-est landholders in the remon.
Surely another could better do Braddock's
bidding than fill George Washington's place
90 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
should his life be sacrificed to a mistaken
sense of duty.
Her words of truth and soberness had
weight with the listener. Two days passed
before he determined to adhere to his orio;i-
nal design. He began the final discussion
respectfully and affectionately, but the
steadfast soul from which lie had drawn his
own must have perceived from the outset
the futility of further opposition. He took
the ground on which he could meet her on
most nearly equal terms, — that of the
choice of duties. Grantlno: full weight to
all that she had said, he represented his
country's need of him, and why he had
been selected for this especial work. The
public weal should overbalance, in the pa-
triot's mind, the demands of self-interest
and local concerns. The safety, and per-
haps the very existence of the colonies, de-
pended in his judgment upon immediate
concert of action. All the trained forces
at the command of the government should
be massed at a given point, and advance
upon the enemy under officers approved for
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 9 1
skill and valor. He believed that such a
policy would be followed by speedy defeat
and dispersion of the forces gathering upon
the frontier.
She hearkened attentively and mutely,
doubtless with natural pride in the gallant
speaker that upbore the sinking heart, and
unable to repress a thrill of admiration at
the address with which he finally turned
her own words upon her : —
" The God to whom you commended me,
Madam, when I set out upon a more peril-
ous errand, defended me from all harm, and
I trust He will do so now. Do not you 1 "
We can fancy the rare, humorous gleam
that, w^e are told, gave a peculiarly arch ex-
pression to her features, stealing over them
at this adroit touch. The allusion to the
Power wdiich, she had taught him from
babyhood, guided the honest soul into the
path of right and safet}^ could not be gain-
said. She had supplied him with the wea-
pons with wdiich he overcame her. It was
the last severe conflict between the two
master-wills. With candor that matched his,
92 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
she refrained from further remonstrance,
and declared herself convinced that he was
in the rio^ht.
We are irresistibly reminded in reading
of the momentous debate, and the result of
it, of that conference of the disciples in the
house of Philip of Caesarea, when the plead-
ings of those w^ho loved him were stayed
by the chiefest Apostle wdth an impassioned
outbreak from a tried, yet resolute soul : —
" ' What do ye, wcepmg and breaking my
heart ? for I a7n ready not to be boicnd only^
but to die at Jerusalem!
''And when he would not be persziaded^
we ceased, sayi^ig, ' The will of the Lord be
done ! ' "
This was the thought uppermost in Mary
Washington's mind, as she went back to
the Ferry Farm and the duties that awaited
her there.
This was in April, 1755 ; the monotonous
round of plantation-life was soon broken by
stirrinof news of the formation of the fa-
mous Braddock expedition, and the depar-
ture for the seat of war. On July 9 occurred
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 93
the terrible defeat of the British and Co-
lonial forces. Of sixty odd ofHcers, Wash-
ington was the only one who escaped un-
harmed, and the report that he had fallen
on the field of battle was the first tidinQ-s of
the eventful day that reached his mother. In
what agony of desolation she awaited par-
ticulars of her bereavement ; what struoforles
went on in the chastened soul between
knowledge of the blow dealt by the God
whom she had trusted and faith not to be
shaken from its hold, are left to us to con-
jecture. Almost a fortnight elapsed before
mourning was turned into thanksgiving by
the receipt of a letter written by the be-
loved hand, dated July iS, and sent by
special messenger from Fort Cumberland.
It began, " Honored Madam."
It w^as his invariable custom thus to ad-
dress his mother upon paper. It was one
of the wavs of that dav, which he and men
like him helped to make. Whatever might
be the clash of opinion between them ; how-
ever strongly the parent, in her linsey skirt,
short jacket, and mob-cap, might contrast
94 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
with the eleoant dames who strove for his
favor, she was ever "honored" in his
thought and in his speech. A sovereign in
her own right, she commanded his per-
petual allegiance.
The letter s^ave a succinct account of the
disaster, and recounted the circumstances
of his almost miraculous escape, " although
I had four bullets through my coat and two
horses shot under me." He mentions, too,
an illness prior to the fight, of which she
had not heard, that had confined him to
bed and wagon for above ten days, and
from which he was " not half-recovered "
w^hen he went into action. He fears that
in the necessity of halting for some days
to recover strength to proceed homeward,
and the probability tfiat he will not be able
to stir from Mount Vernon until towards
September, he will not have the pleasure
of seeing her until then, and subscribes him-
self thus : —
" I am, honored Madam, your most duti-
ful son."
His mother had, also, the solemn joy of
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
reading in his letter, written on the uvi
day to her step-son, Augustine, the acknow-
ledgment that " by the all-powerful protec-
tion of Providence I have been protected
beyond all human probability or expecta-
tion."
She did not wait for him to come to her
upon his return to Mount Vernon, late in
July, but hastened to see and nurse him.
His robust frame was in a state of pitiable
exhaustion, but his spirit was unbroken. To
her tender expostulations against the sacri-
fice of health, fortune, and perhaps life, he
pleaded the patriot's obligation not to fail
his country in the hour of extremity. She
was back in her home when he wrote to
her, under the date of August 14: —
" Honored Madam, — If it is in my power
to avoid going to Ohio again, I shall, but if
the command is pressed upon me by the
general voice of the country, and offered
upon such terms as cannot be objected
against, it would reflect dishonor upon me
to refuse it, and that, I am sure must, or
ought to give you greater uneasiness than
94 ^^HE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
v^th t'^"g "^ 3.n honorable command. Upon
L^ other terms will I accept it."
They understood one another by now.
She had the good sense to accept the fact
that her boy was a man, and the best judge
of his own affairs. Henceforward she gave
him fullest sympathy, how intelligent may
be gathered from such letters as the above.
CHAPTER VI.
Later in the eventful year, 1755, the
spirit of worldly wisdom moved Brother
Joseph to write to the nephew whom he
had hectored indirectly, and patronized di-
rectly, eight years before. As both of his
letters were preserved by the Washingtons,
we indulge the hope that George and the
Fairfaxes had the satisfaction of comparing
them, and derived as much wicked enjoy-
ment from the act as men in this unsaintly
century would feel in like circumstances.
"Stratford, 5th of September, 1755.
" Good Cousin, — It is a sensible pleasure
to me to hear that you have behaved your-
self with such a martial spirit in all your
engagements with the French, nigh Ohio.
Go on as you have begun, and God prosper
you."
We are credibly informed that Washing-
ton had a fine sense of humor. He used to
98 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
laugh at Nelly Custis's jokes, and smile be-
nignantly, with a twinkle in his eye, upon
his little wife when she brought him clown
from the heights of political lucubrations to
the levels of commonplace matters by hook-
ins: her iino^er in his buttonhole ; and there
are many playful, some sarcastic touches in
his correspondence. A grim smile must
have illumined his sedateness when he
reached this benediction : —
" We have heard of General Braddock's
defeat. Everybody blames his rash con-
duct. Everybody commends the courage
of the Virginia and Carolina men, which is
very agreeable to me. [!] I desire you, as
you may have opportunity, to give me a
short account how you proceed. I am your
mother's brother. I hope you will not deny
my request. I heartily wish you good suc-
cess, and am,
" Your loving uncle,
" Joseph Ball.
"To Major George Washixgtox,
'■'•At the Falls of Rappahannock, or elseivhe7'e in
Virginia.
"Please direct for me at Stratford-by-Bow^ nigh
London.''^
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 99
No talk now of "going on gently and
with patience, as things would naturally
go," or cautions against " being a fine gen-
tleman before his time." We may be sure,
from the urgent plea for a few words from
his " good cousin's " hand, how the worthy
cockney would strut from villa to villa of
the suburban neighborhood, and invade
the dingy offices of the Middle Temple,
and buttonhole acquaintances at the street
corners, to show those " words," if they were
ever written to his " mother's brother."
The leal sister shut her eyes to his weak-
nesses, perhaps because better informed as
to his virtues than we. In 1759 — after
her son's five years' service in the army,
his election to the House of Burgesses, and
resignation of his position of Commander-
in-Chief of the Virginia forces, his marriage
to Mrs. Custis, and settlement as a family-
man at Mount Vernon — Madam Washing-
ton wrote by private hand to her now vener-
able mentor : —
" I inquire by all opportunity from you,
and am glad to hear you and my sister,
100 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
and Mr. Downman and his lady [Brother
Joseph's daughter and her husband] keep
your health so well. I sometimes hear you
intend to see Virginia once more. I should
be proud to see you. I have known a great
deal of trouble since I saw you: there was
no end to my trouble while George was in
the army, but he has now given it up."
The sigh of relief in the last sentence was
the prelude to over a dozen years of peace-
ful enjoyment of domestic life in the homes
upon the Rappahannock and the Potomac.
All the sons were married ; Samuel had set-
tled in Stafford County ; John in Westmore-
land; Charles in Spottsylvania; Augustine,
the surviving step-son, had been established
for several years upon the old plantation on
Pope's Creek. Grandchildren were grow-
ing up about Madam Washington's knees ;
her business-affairs were prosperous. Los-
sing and Mrs. Ella Bassett Washington af-
firm that George's marriage brought delight
to his mother; the former authority that
" the social position, the fortune, and the
lively character of the bride were extremely
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON lOI
satisfactory to Mary Washington." Betty
Lewis's great - granddaughter says more
briefly that " the mother rejoiced in the
son's happiness." We note with gratifica-
tion this coincidence of evidence, because
rumors have Q:ained credence that between
the Custises and the plainer matron of Pine
Grove, there was never perfect accord ; that
the Dowager Madam Washington had little
in common with the beautiful heiress, and
that their intercourse never approximated
intimacy. I shall take greater pleasure in
inserting in due order of the narrative an
extract from the pen of Martha Washing-
ton's grandson, that ought to kill these de-
tractions beyond the fear of resuscitation.
Mary Washington's tasks were essentially
domestic, and as child after child left her
home for his or her own, she became an
inveterate "home-body." The plantation
could not get on without her, and the chil-
dren were always more than welcome to
come to her. Her doors and heart were
open to them and the babies. She began
to call herself " an old woman," although she
102 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
remitted not one jot of the work, and her up-
right figure, brisk step, and alert eye beHed
the phrase. To this season of outward pros-
perity and inward tranquilHty belongs one of
the few letters preserved for our inspection.
It is, for a wonder, given unedited as to or-
thography, and is the more welcome on that
account. Educators maintain that spelling,
like the use of the fork, must be learned
before the age of fifteen, or not at all. We
bethink ourselves of the four years' dearth
of schoolmasters in Westmoreland, during
the early girlhood of the Belle of the North-
ern Neck, and are impressed by the royal
disregard of arbitrary rules manifest in the
composition. Writing was hard work, and
she wasted not a word or stroke. Since it
had to be done, she did it, and contrived to
leave no doubt as to her meaning. The ad-
dress is to ''Mr. Joseph Ball, Esquire. At
Stratford-by-Bow^ nigh London^
^''July 2, 1760.
"Dear Brother, — This comes by Cap-
tain Nicholson. You seem to blame me for
not writeing to you, butt I doe ashure you
THE STORY OF MARY WASHIXGTON 103
it is Note for the want of a very great regard
for you and the family, butt as I dont ship
tobacco, the Captains never call on me, soe
that I never know when tha com or when
tha goe. I believe that you have got a very
good overseer at this quarter now. Captain
Newton has taken a large lease of ground
from you which I deare say, if you had been
hear yourself, it had not been don. Mr. Dan-
iel, and his wife and family, is well ; Cozin
Hannah has been married and lost her hus-
band. She has one child, a boy. Pray give
my love to Sister Ball, Mr. Downman, his
son-in-law, his Lady. I am Deare Brother,
" Your loving sister,
" Mary Washington."
Several interesting and characteristic par-
ticulars present themselves in what sounds
like a trite communication. Brother Joseph
had taken her to task for remissness in cor-
respondence. Simply, and with no haste of
self-vindication or show of wounded feeling,
she assures him of her unabated regard for
himself and family, and gives the all-suffi-
104 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
cient reason for her apparent negligence.
The shipment of Virginia's great staple had
made some of her neigjhbors rich, and be^:-
gared others. Without having so much
as heard of the Essay on Bulk Tobacco
presented to "the Honorable Commission-
ers of their Majesties Customs," in 1692,
by the " Merchant Masters of Ships and
Traders to Virginia and Maryland," our
shrewd woman of affairs knew it to be an
expensive and treacherous crop, subject to
perils often from weather, worms, and smug-
glers, and she exported none in bulk or par-
cel. The captains of outgoing crafts knew
her views on this point, and gave her wharf
a wide berth, and she was too much occu-
pied in minding her own business to con-
cern herself with their coming: and g^oino:.
The front windows of the Pine Grove house
overlooked the river and Fredericksburg
wharf where all the vessels touched. She
must have been singularly void of idle cu-
riosity not to keep some watch upon the
passing sails.
She speaks a good word for the absen-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 105
tee's overseer, but opines dryly that Captain
Newton would not have been his tenant
had he been on the spot to look into mat-
ters for himself. Cozin Hannah is probably
the daughter of William Ball, their father's
brother, the Hannah who married Daniel
Fox. With old-fashioned courtesy, she
names the members of Brother Joseph's
family, and prays that her love may go to
each. The signature is more sloping and
in bolder sort than the '' Mary B air affixed
to the seventeen -year -old girl's epistle.
This same year, Betty Washington, a beauti-
ful woman, whose portrait, preserved at the
ancestral seat of the Lewises at Marmion,
Virginia, bears a striking resemblance to
her distinguished brother, was married to a
wealthy widower, Colonel Fielding Lewis,
of Gloucester. He owned much real estate
in and around Fredericksburg, and that his
wife might be near her mother, set about
building Kenmore, a splendid residence for
those times. It w^as then in the suburbs of
the busy little shipping-town which after-
wards grew out to and beyond it.
I06 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Kenmore is still one of the show-places of
Fredericksburg. When I visited it in May
of the present year (1892), it was in excel-
lent preservation, having been purchased
and " restored " by people appreciative of
the associations that cluster about it. The
decorations of wainscot and ceilino^s are
elaborate and curious. When the present
occupants took possession, the dining-room
walls were so defaced by the grime that had
accumulated during the years in which it
was used as a kitchen, that the noble wains-
cot and fretted ceiling were a surprise to
the spectators of the revelations made by the
cleaner's brush. Over the mantel in the
drawing-room, an apartment of noble dimen-
sions and ornamentation, is a remarkable
fresco, said to have been designed by George
Washington, at the request of his sister,
the invention of her artists having "given
out." It is in what is know as " putty-work,"
or plastic stucco, and represents in low re-
lief several scenes from ^sop s Fables, —
the crow with the lump of cheese in his
mouth, and the wheedling fox beneath the
T t
' r » f
^ixix.U..' /.
BAS-RELIEF OVER DRAWING-ROOM MANTEL AT KENMORE
THE NEV/ YORK
POBLIC LIBRARY
AS'^CR, LENOX J
DEN FO'JND.TICHL j
TfLDEN
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 107
tree ; the wolf accusing the lamb of fouling
the water; and other less conspicuous tokens
of the warrior s familiarity with the celebrated
classic. The workmanship of the whole is
decidedly foreign. The story runs that it
was executed by certain Italians, who, having
enlisted in the French army, were taken
prisoners in America, and remained there
after peace was declared. ..„ _^
Betty Lewis has hardly had 'the attention
from her mother's and brother's biograJDhers
that should be awarded to the tender devo-
tion she showed to her surviving parent, and
which her charms of person and character
merited. We are indebted to her letters for
some of the pleasantest glimpses of ?^Iary
Washington's home-life ; and the reverent
affection of her children proved her rare
virtues as mother, wife, and woman.
This tranquil middle period of our hero-
ine's existence was disturbed by the muttering
of the war-cloud upon the Northern horizon.
With sad, and, as was proved, correct fore-
bodings that it would be long before peace
was restored, Washington, before setting
I08 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
out to take charge of the Colonial troops
after the battle of Bunker Hill, begged his
mother to leave the river-farm and take a
house in Fredericksburg. Mrs. Lewis fol-
lowed up his representations of the danger
of her present residence by urgent invitation
to their parent to accept a home at Kenmore
for the remainder of her natural life.
Mary Washington never showed her ster-
ling sense more clearly than in declining,
gratefully, gently, and firmly, the inconsider-
ately generous offer. She had been a widow
for thirty-two years, accustomed to her ow^n
home, her own servants, and her own man-
ner of life. The spirit and habit of com-
mand were strong wdthin her, and the ways
of her simple establishment had unfitted her
to occupy a visitor's place in any other, es-
pecially in the elegant home in wdiich the
wealthy merchant had placed her daughter.
" My wants in this life are few," she re-
plied to her daughter's fond importunity,
" and I feel perfectly competent to take care
of myself."
To Colonel Fielding Lewis's proposal
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 109
that he should relieve her of the labor of
going back and forth to the Ferry Farm and
overseeing the plantation, she said : —
" You can keep my books, for your eye-
sight is better than mine ; but leave the man-
agement of the farm to me."
It was not then so well understood as
now that inaction and rust are synonyms
to one who has passed his fiftieth birthday.
Had Madam Washington resigned her stir-
ring life, full, for every waking hour of the
day, with specific duties ; had exchanged
the daily drive over the plantation, and the
countless errands into the outer air, insepa-
rable from the business of managing a farm,
for the luxurious ease of Kenmore, a seat in
the softest chair in the warmest corner of
the hearth, and no livelier interests in what
went on about her than such as a well-to-do
gentlewoman far on in the sixties might feel
in pursuits foreign to her taste, — she would
have collapsed into querulous invalidism or
imbecility. Conscious of the splendid re-
serves of vitality within her, she determined
to live out her own life — as such — until
disabled by old age or fatal disease.
CHAPTER VII.
The house purchased by Mary Washing-
ton as the shelter of her decHning years
still stands, an esteemed relic, in the heart
of the town of Fredericksburg. In 1890, it
became the property of the Association for
the Preservation of Virginia Antiquities.
It was, in 1775, a long, low cottage, with
four windows upon Charles Street, and the
same number, of unequal sizes, upon the side
thoroughfare. A central hall ran from the
front to the back doors. Upon the right of
the entrance was a spacious parlor, and op-
posite this a still larger room, which w^as se-
lected as the chief apartment of the house,
— "the chamber." Back of this was the
dining-room, under the sloping roof that
took off a half-story from the rear. A large
pantry where stores were kept, and a small
bed-chamber off the parlor, completed the
number of rooms upon the first floor. The
Wk . 'ft] ;^;i
' }
o
H
O
K
>
Pi
<
O
THE NEW YC; . ]
POBLIC library!
AS'T'CR, LENOX
TILDEM irO-JNDATICNj;
]
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON III
half-story above-stairs was lighted, back and
front, by dormer-windows. In a detached
building, behind the dwelling, were kitchen
and servants' dormitories.
The stables were upon the corner of the
block, the whole of which was occupied by
garden and orchard. Madam Washington
was always fond of flowers and successful in
cultivating them. She transplanted into the
garden of her new abode many favorites
from across the river. The chanofe was
great to one who loved the unrestrained
liberty, the wide spaces and free air of plan-
tation-life, yet she made no complaint.
" George thought it best," was the reply to
query and marvel at the radical change in
her surroundings and habits. The formula
had answered her mental disinclination to
break up her home and dwell within city-
limits. She did not cnre what others
thought or said. Amid the various burdens
and distractions of the ofilices pressed upon
him, her son made time to superintend the
business of removal, and saw her settled
comfortably in the unfamiliar quarters be-
fore bidding her farewell.
112 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
He did not look upon her face again in
seven years.
Within the past year, since the effort to
erect a suitable memorial above the restinsr-
place of Mary, the Mother of Washing-
ton has assumed form and proportions, a
rumor has been set afloat that she repro-
bated her son's action in identifying himself
with the rebellion against the Parent Coun-
try, and remained an obstinate, some say,
a malignant Tory, throughout the war.
Hence — goes on the calumny — he never
visited her during the struggle for Indepen-
dence, and with difficulty made his peace
when it was ended by the victory at York-
town.
A more baseless and witless slander was
never concocted by the latter-day Athenian,
whose "new thing" must be "high" in fla-
vor, or fail to tempt his appetite.
Lossing, who had known and consulted
the venerable grandson of Martha W'ashing-
ton, and drew his information from others
of the same blood ; who quotes freely from
Sparks, Irving, Everett, and Paulding, as
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON II3
well as from contemporaneous authorities,
writes in serene unconsciousness that such
a tale ever had been or could be : —
" Madam Washington was now in the
direct line of communication between the
Eastern and Southern colonies, and she
was in the constant receipt of news con-
cerning the progress of the struggle at all
points. Washington communicated to her,
as opportunities offered, tidings of the most
important occurrences in the strife. Courier
after courier would appear at the door of
her dwelling with dispatches which told her
alternately of victory and of defeat. She
received all messages with equanimity, and
never betrayed any uncommon emotion.
When the cheerinsr news of the victories
at Trenton and Princeton reached Freder-
icksburg, several of her friends congratu-
lated her upon the brilliant achievements of
her son, when she simply replied, ' George
seems to have deserved well of his country ; '
and when some of them read paragraphs of
letters they had received in w-hich the skill
and bravery of Washington were applauded,
she said : —
114 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
"' Gentlemen, here is too much flattery.
Still, George will not forget the Jessons I
have taught him ; he will not forget him-
self, though he is an object of so much
praise.
Had he been at that moment, to her ap-
prehension, recreant to the cause of right, a
traitor to his king, and in unlawful rebellion
against the government to which she felt
she owed allegiance, the outspoken matron,
ever fearless in defense of truth and justice,
would not have talked of his being true to
himself and to the lessons she had taught
him.
Betty Lewis's descendant is as explicit : —
" During the trying years when her son
was leading the Continental forces, the mo-
ther was watching and praying, following
him with anxious eyes ; but to the messen-
gers who brought tidings, whether of vic-
tory or defeat, she turned a calm face, what-
ever tremor of feeling it might mask, and
to her daughter she said, chiding her for
undue excitement, ' The sister of the com-
manding general should be an example of
fortitude and faith.' "
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON II5
Again, from the same trustworthy source,
we learn of her foremother's demeanor dur-
ing the " troubled and anxious " eight years
" with few lights amid their shadows : " —
" The experience of these years must have
been most deeply felt by Washington's mo-
ther, but whatever the tension of thought,
there was no chancre of demeanor while she
o
dispersed a large though simple hospitality
to the friends who crathered around her far
and near ; and though her means were lim-
ited, her charities were wide and generous.
There was something of nervous energy in
her constant occupation, knitting-needles
ever flying in the nimble fingers ; for with
her daughter and their domestics to aid,
dozens of socks were knitted and sent to the
General at camp for distribution, together
with garments and provisions, the fruit of
her thrift and economy."
Rev. Robert Reid Howison, the author
of The History of Virginia, and The Stu-
denfs History of the United States, — a man
who has given years of toilful study to the
collection of materials for the admirable
Il6 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
and useful volumes I have named, — thus
responds to a query as to what foundation
exists for the story that, if true, stamps an
indelible stigma upon the character of the
mother of Washington : —
" I am a native of Fredericksburg, and
have passed the greater part of my life here
and in the immediate vicinity. I have
talked, times without number, wdth people
who had known Mrs. Washington. Tales
of her personal characteristics, her doings,
and her sayings were familiar to me in my
boyhood, and I do not hesitate to say that
I hear now for the first time that her patri-
otism was ever called in question. Like
Washington, she felt at the beginning of the
troubles between King and Colonies, that
overt rebellion should, if practicable, be
avoided, and with him, she deprecated the
suggestion of war with the Mother Country.
But, once convinced that the conflict was
inevitable, her loyalty never swerved. The
cause of American Independence had no
more steadfast adherent. I confess myself
at a loss to conceive how a slander so ground-
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 11/
less could have originated, at a period so
remote from the event it involves."
In view of the emptiness of the charge,
I should not have considered it worth the
ink and time I have bestowed upon it, had
it been less offensively put forth. When it
passes unchallenged in a prominent chapter
of the Daughters of the American Revolu-
tion, and becomes the subject of debate in
a prominent Woman's Club, it is well to
seize and shake it to pieces. Alongside of
the scrap of proof in support of the false-
hood, offered by the son's prolonged absence
from Fredericksburg, I beg leave, in quit-
ting the unsavory subject, to lay the follow-
ing sentence from George Washington's
letter to Lafayette, dated " Mount Version,
February i , 1 7S4 : " —
" On the eve of Christmas I entered these
doors, an older man by nine years than when
I left them."
The same causes had exiled him from his
own and from his mother's home.
Once more, consulting Madam Washing-
ton's lineal descendant, we read : —
Il8 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
" When the tidings of the splendid suc-
cess at Yorktown were brought direct from
the General to his mother, she was moved
to an exclamation of fervent thankssrivino^:
" ' Thank God the war is ended, and we
shall be blessed with peace, happiness, and
independence, for our country is free ! ' "
A " malignant Tory" would have sat down
in sackcloth and ashes to bemoan the day
in which the man-child was born who had
brought this calamity to pass.
Returning gladly to the even course of
our narrative, we find ourselves at the last
chapter of the storm-and-stress period, the
mighty travail out of which was born our
nationality.
On the afternoon of November ii, 1781,
Washington arrived in Fredericksburg with
his staff of French and American officers, €7i
7^oute from Yorktown to Philadelphia. He
left his retinue at the place appointed as
his headquarters, and walked unattended
through streets vocal with his name, to the
corner-cottage where his mother, previously
apprised of his coming, awaited him. Mr.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON II9
Custis tells the story in language that his
habitual ornateness cannot rob of tender
interest : —
" She was alone, her aged hands employed
in the works of domestic industry, when the
good news was announced, and it was told
that the victor was awaiting at the thresh-
old. She bade him welcome by a warm
embrace, and by the well-remembered and
endearing name of 'George,' — the familiar
name of his childhood. She inquired as to
his health, for she marked the lines which
mighty cares and toils had made in his
manly countenance, and she spoke much of
old times and old friends, but of his glory
not one word."
One, or both, of two reasons may have
caused what strikes the modern reader as
strange reticence. Washington's dislike of
spoken praise was proverbial. Notable in-
stances of this were his extreme confusion
when the Speaker of the House of the Bur-
gesses announced in eulogistic terms the
appointment of Major Washington to the
supreme command of the Colonial forces, and
120 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
in 1789, when, at a New York theatre, the
interlude of the play promised a complimen-
tary reference to himself. " He smiled,"
says a chronicler, "but looked grave and
uneasy, expecting some personal adulation,
which always annoyed him." To no one
was this idiosyncrasy better known than
to her who for her part held flattery so
cheap that nobody dared offer it to her.
She would comprehend, moreover, with the
quick intuition which stood her in stead of
worldly address, that he was satiated wdth
" war-talk," and hungered like a weary child
for the homely converse of olden times. He
longed to know himself again as her son and
intimate. Unheralded and unaccompanied,
he had come back to bow himself at her
knee, and she met him in kind. The grand
simplicity of one found a clear, full echo in
the other.
Again, Mary Washington belonged to the
school, now no more, of parents who held
as an invariable rule that praise of one's
offspring was in bad taste, and a positive
injury to the subject of laudation if heard
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 121
by him. When she had said, " George will
be true to himself," she covered the whole
ground in her own mind. She had the
English horror of wordy scenes and melo-
dramatic situations, and had guarded the
door of her lips so long that they would not
have opened readily to sentimental ejacula-
tions.
Her only public appearance as the hero's
mother was at the Peace Ball given in Fred-
ericksburg during the visit of Washington
to that town. W^ith all her majestic self-
command, she did not disguise the plea-
sure with which she received the special
request of the managers that she would
honor the occasion with her presence.
There was even a happy flutter in the play-
ful rejoinder that " her dancing days were
pretty well over, but that if her coming
would contribute to the general pleasure she
would attend."
The town-hall was hung with flags and
festooned with evergreens, and blazed wath
light on the November night of the festival.
The glitter of French uniforms and the gala-
122 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
attire of the women present, who had drawn
forth from chest and wardrobe all the finery
the w^ar had left them, made the scene the
gayest the "home-body" had ever beheld.
We please ourselves by speculating whether
or not Betty Lewis was allowed to lace up
the black silk gown and adjust the snowy
kerchief and cap the wearer adjudged to be
the only correct costume for a plain country-
w^oman who had been a widow for almost half
her life. We are secure in the belief that
her garb pleased the superb son who led her
into the room w^ith the respectful courtesy
due a queen. A path was opened from the
foot to the top of the hall as they appeared
in the doorway, and " every head was bowed
in reverence." It must have been the proud-
est moment of her life, but she bore herself
with perfect composure then, and after her
son, seating her in an armchair upon the
dais reserved for distinguished guests, faced
the crowd in prideful expectancy that all his
friends would seek to know his mother. She
had entered the hall at eight o'clock, and for
two hours held court, the most distinguished
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 12^
people there pressing eagerly forward to be
presented to her. She received them with
placid dignity, as little excited, to all appear-
ance, as when entertaining her Fredericks-
burg neighbors in the roomy " chamber," in
one corner of which stood the " best bed
and tester," hung with the " Virginia cloth
curtains," bequeathed in her will to her son
George. From her slightly elevated posi-
tion she could, without rising, overlook the
floor, and watched with quiet pleasure the
dancers, among them the kingly figure of
the Commander-in-Chief, who led a Freder-
icksburg^ matron throuo^h a minuet.
At ten o'clock, she signed to him to ap-
proach, and rose to take his arm, saying in
her clear, soft voice : —
" Come, George, it is time for old folks to
be at home ! "
Smiling a good-night to all, she walked
down the room, as erect in form, and as
steady in gait, as any dancer there.
One of the French officers (it may have
been Rochambeau or De Grasse) exclaimed
aloud, as she disappeared : —
124 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
" If such are the matrons of America, she
may well boast of illustrious sons ! "
In the autumn of 1784, Lafayette paid
his respects to the widowed mother of his
brother-in-arms, visiting Fredericksburg for
that purpose alone. Mrs. Fielding Lewis
— by this time a widow like her mother,
and with a family of young children, as
that mother had been forty years ago —
was visitinor her brother at Mount Vernon,
and sent her son Fielding (as Mr. Lossing
has it; Mrs. Ella Bassett Washington calls
him " Robert ") to act as the cicerone of the
titled foreigner. Madam Washington's one
recreation was walking and working among
her flowers, and in her garden-garb of linsey
skirt, the short gown we would style " a
sacque," and broad-brimmed hat tied over
the plaited border of her cap, was raking
together dry weeds and sticks into a heap,
to which she would presently apply a coal
fetched from the kitchen fire, and burn out
of sight. The visitors approached the house
from Kenmore, by way of the side-street.
The boy, proud of his mission, and knowing
LAFAYETTE WALK
TUi: KfcW llQkH
WBOC LIBRAW
TtlX^ FCUNOATlONSl
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 125
his grandmother too well to fear disconcert-
ing her, pointed her out over the palings to
his companion.
" There is my grandmother, sir! " he said
complacently, and unlatching the side-gate,
led the Marquis into the inclosure, naming
him as they neared the venerable mistress
of the domain.
The situation would have been intolerable
to a woman who had one atom of personal
vanity. The startled,. hostess met it with
the aplomb of a duchess. She dropped her
rake, took between her bare palms the hand
the nobleman extended, wHile he bared his
lofty head and bowed before her in deepest
reverence. Her voice, at seventy-eight, had
no longer the timbre of youth, but the mod-
ulations were refined : —
*' Ah, Marquis ! you have come to see an
old woman ! But come in ; I can make vou
welcome without changing my dress. I am
glad to see you. I have often heard my son
George speak of you."
She preceded him into the narrow hall,
and, near the front entrance, turned, not
126 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
into the state parlor, set out stiffly with the
"six red leather chairs, the oval tabic, look-
ing-glasses, and walnut writing-desk with
drawers," named in her last will and testa-
ment, but into the chamber, her "living-
room," where she was used to sit and be " at
home." Those acquainted with the ways
of "Old Virginia" at that time (and for a
century afterward) are sure that a brisk lit-
tle fire burned in the chimney, the season
being autumn, and Madam " an old woman."
She seated Lafayette, laid aside her straw
hat, and placed herself opposite to him. In
her quaint attire, " neat as a nun's," erect as
at eighteen, never touching the tall, straight
back of her chair, her unfaded eyes full of
kindly light, she listened calmly to the pan-
egyric upon her son poured forth by the
eloquent Frenchman, whose strong accent
must have made his discourse at first hardly
intelligible to her unaccustomed ears.
She heard her George lauded as the mira-
cle of his age; as greater than Cccsar, and
more modest than Cincinnatus, — the hero
whose fame would outlast time.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 12/
Her well - known reply is a multum in
parvo.
" I am not surprised at what George has
done. He was always a good boy."
That " good " comprised all public and
private virtues to a soul laid out in large,
simple lines. What had set a world to won-
dering had not " surprised " her. The child
of prayers and cares — whose greedy ears had
from his youth up drunk in tales of worthy
deeds done by his ancestors of six hundred
years ; whose own father had been without
fear and without reproach ; his mother's
pupil as she reasoned of righteousness,
temperance, and the judgment to be pro-
claimed when " The Great Audit " should
be made — could be no less than "good."
The hero described by the fluent tongue
could be no more.
Fredericksburg annalists tell us laugh-
ingly, and with sly humor at thought of
modern reforms, that Madam Washington
mixed with her own hands a mint-julep, and
offered it to General Lafayette with a plate
of home-made " ginger-cakes." According
128 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
to the social customs of the day, she would
have been inhospitable had she suffered a
guest to depart without some refreshment of
which wine or spirits formed a part, and in
that region the mint-julep was the prescribed
" article." The man of the world accepted
the beverage as simply and gracefully as it
was tendered, pronounced it delicious, and
arose to go. He was on the point of em-
barking for his native land, he said, and they
would probably never meet again. Would
she give him her blessing t
She looked up to heaven, folded her
hands, and, in sweet, thrilling tones, prayed
that God would grant him *' safety, happi-
ness, prosperity, and peace." Tears were in
the listener s eyes ; he bent to kiss the with-
ered hand, thanked her fervently, and took
his leave. The grandson, who was the sole
witness of the touching scene, could never
speak of it without emotion.
Lafayette's report of the interview to his
friends at Mount Vernon was : " I have
seen the only Roman matron living at this
day ! "
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 29
The stirring events attendant upon the
return of peace and the assured indepen-
dence of the new country over, Madam
Washington's Hfe resumed its even tenor.
It had been her wont in earlier days to dri\'e
herself daily, in fine weather, down to the
ferry in her gig, and on board of the flat-
bottomed scow that carried passengers over
the river. Arrived upon the other side, she
made the round of the farm, inspecting
fields, gardens, the servants' quarters, and
the barns, with the keen eye for neglect and
disorder cultivated through the many years
of stewardship for her children. If rebuke
were needed, she administered it in short,
sharp fashion, as in the case of an overseer
who had departed from her instruction in
an important transaction, excusing himself
by saying that " in his judgment " —
" And who gave you the right to use your
judgment in the matter?" interrupted the
dictator, "/command! There is nothing
left iox you but to obey."
The discharged subordinate declared af-
terward that " her eyes flashed blue light-
130 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
ning, and he felt exactly like he had been
knocked down."
There is pathos in the anecdote that it
was her practice to bring 'home every day
a jug, or demijohn, of water for her own
drinking, from a spring of the Stafford plan-
tation, declaring that no other water tasted
so good. The rustic fount that was to her
as the Well of Bethlehem bears still the
name of " Lady Washington's spring."
As years and weakness increased, she was
driven about town and across the ferry in
a low-hung vehicle, like a topless phaeton.
Stephen, the only man-servant in the cot-
tage-establishment, acted as coachman, sit-
ting stiffly upon the box, and thoroughly
imbued with a consciousness of his impor-
tance as part of the equipage which every-
body, young and old, saluted as it passed
along the rambling, unpaved streets.
The phaeton was a gift from her son, and
she preferred it to any other carriage. Be-
sides it and the bay horse that drew it, her
stables held a pair of blacks and a riding-
chair or gig, minutice worth jotting down
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 131
as controverting the false Impression that
Washington, enjoying his own and \\\: wife's
fortunes, allowed his mother to live in .'pov-
erty.
We are indebted to her great-grand-
daughter for a graphic portraiture of Madam
Washington during her daily drives, which
the writer had heard times without number
from her father, " Betty " Lewis's son : —
" In summer she wore a dark straw hat
with broad brim and low crown, tied under
her chin with black ribbon strings; but in
winter a warm hood was substituted, -and
she was wrapped in the purple cloth cloak
lined with silk shag (a present from her son
George) that is described in the bequests of
her will. In her hand she carried her gold-
headed cane, which feeble health now ren-
dered necessary as a support."
Slow decay was sapping her natural pow-
ers. An accidental blow upon the breast,
little regarded at the time, quickened the
seeds of a cancerous tumor, decided, at a
date when surgical science was compara-
tively rude, to be incurable. Upon July 24,
1789, Mrs. Lewis's bulletin ran thus : —
132 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
" I am sorry to inform you that mother
still sr-rfers from her breast. She is sen-
sible of it [that is, of the clanger], and is
pertectly resigned, — wishes for nothing
more than to keep it easy. She wishes to
hear from you, and will not believe you are
well until she receives it from your hand."
In her hour of mortal extremity, when all
she could hope for in life for herself was
comparative ease, her heart trembled for the
safety of the Nation's Hope. She would
trust no tale of his welfare that did not come
from him who had never deceived her.
The end was approached by mercifully
gradual degrees. She made herself strong
enough in the early summer to visit her sons,
Samuel and Charles, and assure herself that
all was well with them, and her daughter
was in daily attendance upon her. On
April 14, 1789, she had had a visit from
her eldest-born and always her best-beloved
child.
The interview was unexpected, and of ne-
cessity a hurried one. That very morning
Washington had received official notice of
;4
Pi
o
>■■■ ' ' "* "* "' ' mm '
THE NEW YOhK
POBUC LIBRARf
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 33
his election to the Presidency of the United
States, and he must leave for New York
on the morrow. He had galloped up from
Mount Vernon to snatch an hour with the
woman he revered in weakness and old age
as when her will had overruled the boy's
plans of a career. He found her in " the
chamber," alert in mind and serene of spirit,
but so altered in appearance that his heart
misgave him. Concealing his dreads, he
began to speak cheerfully of his intention,
so soon as public business could be disposed
of, to return to Virginia and see her again.
She stayed him there with steady voice
and feeble hand. This would be their last
meeting in this life, she said. She was old,
and a fatal disease was upon her. She
would not be lonsr in this world. She
trusted in God that she was somewhat pre-
pared for a better. Then, laying the wasted
hand upon the head bowed to her shoulder,
she told him that Heaven's and his mother's
blessing would always be with him.
When he said reluctantly that he must be
gone, she arose also, as loath to lose sight
134 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
of him, and walked with him to the cham-
ber-door, leaning for the last time upon his
arm, and he felt how light was the wasted
form, how uneven the once firm tread. As
he stooped for a parting embrace, she felt
him slip a purse into her hand.
She put it back, raising her head with the
old-time pride.
" I don't need it!" she said, and repeated
the formula often upon the lips of the aged :
" My wants are few."
It should be a keepsake from him, he an-
swered, and would not take it back again.
It was full of gold, as she saw. They were
at the door, through which the faithful body-
servant, " Billy Lee," was visible, holding his
master's horse. Time pressed, but he lin-
gered to plead tenderly, " Whether you
think you need it or not, — for my sake,
mother!"
We consult once more Mrs. Ella Bassett
Washington's narrative: "The appeal was
irresistible, and the purse was retained ; but
after he had gone she dropped it indiffer-
ently upon the table, and sank into a chair,
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 135
lost in sad reverie. Her grandson, coming
in with a message, witnessed the parting
scene, and, too respectful to disturb her sor-
row, hastened home to tell his mother all
that had passed. Feeling anxious touching
her mother's state, and fearing that this pain-
ful excitement might cause serious illness,
she hastened at once to her side. Very calm
and still they found her, seated with droop-
ing head and calm, unseeing eyes."
" Unseeing " in semblance, yet they saw
very far into the checkered past and pierced
the shadowy future. To very few is it per-
mitted to know, beyond peradventure, that
their work upon this earth is fully done, and
well done. This woman had this assurance,
and henceforward was " perfectly resigned
and wished for nothing." She had borne
the burden of five young lives upon unbend-
ing shoulders ; had brought up her children
to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk hum-
bly with their God ; had nursed the fortune
of each with wisdom, and delivered it over
to him with equity. As friend, neighbor,
and Christian, she had carried herself blame-
136 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
lessly in the sight of all. By reason of
strength of body and mind, she had passed
the fourscore years that usually bound human
usefulness. Her children were doing their
parts well in life ; of her first-born she might
have said in reverent thankfulness that she
had seen in him of the travail of her soul,
and w^as satisfied. There remained to be
cared for only " an old woman," racked by
painful disease. Yet, wdth all her fullness
of resignation, the faithful heart, the depth
of whose capacity for loving few divined,
yearned over the darling whom she had
never called by that sweet name, — and she
should see his face no more.
She had lived her love for him as for the
husband of her youth, for the baby taken
from her breast almost fifty years ago, and
for the mother whose fostering care of the
fatherless girl had been her training for a
similar task.
Ah, well ! she w^ould soon be with them,
and God was good. His mercies were from
everlasting, and his faithfulness unto all
generations.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 13/
She died, " upheld by unfaltering faith in
the promises of the Bible, and by full belief
in the communion of the saints," August
25, 1 789, surrounded by children and friends.
New York was a week away even by special
post-rider, and the President did not receive
the news until September i.
CHAPTER VIII.
Mary Washington had been one of the
most familiar figures in Fredericksburg for
over fourteen years, and the announcement
of her decease produced a profound sensa-
tion. The closed blinds of the corner-cot-
tas^e susfSfested to his^h and low incidents of
the busy existence that had become a part
of the history of the town. Men gathered
in groups on the street-corners to discuss
in bated tones national events with w4iich
the life that had gone out was connected ;
women, in their own homes, or " running
over " to sit upon a neighbor's doorstep or
porch, in the sweet informal fashion of
Southern sociability, reminded one another
of the many " ways," the very eccentricity of
which was charming now, that had marked
Madam Washington's individuality.
Of how used they were to see her in the
summer sunsets emerge from the side-gate
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 39
of her garden (the one by which Lafayette
entered), and pace slowly down the side-walk
to the stable to be sure that Stephen bedded
and fed the horses, and that Betsy, his wife,
" stripped " the last and richest drops of
cream from the cows. She would stand at
the open doors of the stable, watching these
operations and giving orders for the night
or morrow, exchanging cheery salutations
with chance passers-by, her never-idle fin-
gers busy with her knitting, or, at certain
seasons, picking out the black seeds from a
mass of raw cotton in her apron. People
used to smile at the homely picture when
they remembered her stately son. They re-
called to-day that there was ever a sort of
dignity about her; that she never gossiped ;
how kindly was her interest in the suffering
and sorrowing, and that diligence in busi-
ness became the New World housewife more
than elegant idleness.
How it was told as a joke at which she
lauo^hed with her daucrhter when it filtrated
to them, that when she might be expected
at Kenmore to pass the day or afternoon, a
140 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
watch was posted at the upper windows of
the great house to give notice when the
blacked-robed figure, with erect head and
measured step, issued from the gate, followed
by her maid, Patsey, who bore her mistress's
work-basket and shawl. Whereupon, the
whole household force of Kenmore flew to
broom, duster, and scrubbing-brush in fran-
tic haste, to have every corner speckless
and shining before " Ole Mistis " arrived,
and the children were ready with smooth
pinafores and clean faces to meet " Grand-
mother " at the outer door.
How her son George had learned punc-
tuality in a school so strict that her neigh-
bors averred that they set their watches by
the ringing of her breakfast, dinner, and sup-
per bell, sounded as regularly and as long
when she was the only person to be sum-
moned to table as if there were a houseful of
guests ; and that her pew in St. George's
Church was occupied at precisely the same
moment of time every Sunday morning.
How the fashion of her raiment had not
changed in twenty years ; that nobody had
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 14I
ever seen her look in the least fashionable,
and nobody ever otherwise than perfectly
neat.
How those who had been to look at her,
lying in the best bed in the shadowy corner
of her chamber, the thin hands crossed upon
a bosom that would never ache again with
the cruel pain, had noted that the strongly-
marked features people had not called hand-
some for forty years were subdued into a
wondrous likeness to her son, and grew
younger and sweeter hour by hour, until it
was easy to credit the traditions of her
youthful comeliness.
How — the voices of the gossips falling
at the mention of it — she had chosen her
burial-place, and asked of Mrs. Lewis the
gift of a spot upon her plantation for this
purpose, and that the grave had already
been marked out where no grave was ever
dug before.
It was a gentle knoll not far from the
Kenmore grounds, and crowned by a few
gray boulders overshadowed by a clump of
trees. It had been remarked that she often
142 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
resorted to this retreat, sometimes alone
with her basket of mending, or her knitting,
or her Bible. Nobody passed very near her
at such times, for the place lay apart from
any footpath, but many had seen from a
distance the motionless figure seated upon
a flat rock, and wondered " what the old
Madam " was thinking about, sitting there
so long.
Oftener, she was surrounded by the Lewis
children, who preferred " Grandmother s Bi-
ble-stories " to any others they ever heard.
The 2:randdauQ;hter of one of the little band
relates that " the manner of her speaking
was so deeply impressive that neither the
lessons taught nor the scenes connected with
them were ever forgotten by the young list-
eners." As one of them related, when he
was himself growing old, — " There was a
spell over them as they looked into grand-
mother's uplifted face, with its sweet expres-
sion of perfect peace, and they were very
quiet during the homeward walk."
I sat for a long hour upon the flat gray
rock one fair May day a few months ago.
i4
u
o
>
o
h
<
o
THE ^^t-V^^ '/O^xK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
IDATIONSJ
TILDEN
FC'JNl
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 43
The " two splendid pines towering above it"
have died a natural death, and deciduous
trees have taken their place. They cast
flickering shadows upon the rough surface
of the boulder as the wind stirred them and
rustled the grasses and wild flowers growing
about the base. The knoll falls gently away
to the beautiful valley of the Rappahannock,
a panorama of fertile farms, groves, and
homesteads, bounded by low hills curving
against the horizon. The time-stained walls
and hipped roof of Kenmore are in full sight,
and the mother's eyes must have rested in
gratification upon the house that held, in
luxurious happiness, her only daughter and
the beloved little ones. Her own cottage
was then visible, for between the two dwell-
ings the space not occupied by houses was
open from the Kenmore lawn to the garden
where flourished the calycanthus and box
brought from Pine Grove.
The knowledge that this was the chosen
oratory of one whose character had seemed
to me, up to that hour, granitic in reserve
and strength, was a revelation. That " silent
144 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
side" of her had color and sentiment unsus-
pected save by those who knew and loved
her best, — the children that crowded about
her feet as the ferns and clover-blossoms
nestled in the shadow of the rock ; the son
whose great nature sprang from hers as the
pines took root in the warm heart of the
earth beneath the boulder.
The Rappahannock mart mourned for her
on the August day of the funeral, as one
man. Business was suspended, and crape
hung from most of the closed shops and
warehouses. The sanctuary in which she
had been a reverent communicant was
throncred to hear the burial service read
above the remains. The cofifin was carried
from the church on men's shoulders to the
quiet hillside, and every foot of the knoll
was covered by the concourse of mourners
and spectators. All over the country press
and pulpit made solemn note of the event;
in New York, members of Congress and
many private citizens w^ore crape for thirty
days, as for a distinguished public official.
On the evening of Thursday, August 27,
-Nr-
o
>
pi
o
H
<:
o
o
Oi
Ui
O
i4
THE KEW YO.^K
WIBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOH, LENOX
tlLDEW FOUNDAtlCNS
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 145
1789, a near neighbor of Mary Washington
penned this tribute to her memory : —
" It is usual, when virtuous and conspic-
uous persons quit this terrestrial abode, to
publish elaborate panegyrics on their charac-
ters, but suffice it to say that she conducted
herself through this transitory life with
virtue and prudence worthy of theimother
of the greatest hero that ever adorhed the
annals of history. There is-no*fame in the
world more pure, than -tJ^at'- dl-' the mother
of Washington, and no woman since the
mother of Christ has left a better claim to
the affectionate reverence of mankind."
George Washington Parke Custis, the
grandson of Martha Washington, and the
adopted son of the first President, wrote
thirty-seven years after her decease : —
" Thus lived and died this distinguished
woman. Had she been of the olden time,
statues would have been erected to her
memory at the Capitol, and she would have
been called the Mother of Romans. When
another century has elapsed, and our de-
scendants shall have learned the true value
146 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
of liberty, how will the fame of the paternal
chief be cherished in story and in song!
Nor will be forgotten she who first bent the
twig to incline the tree to glory. Then, and
not till then, will youth and age, maid and
matron, aye, and bearded men, repair to the
now-neglected grave of the Mother of
Washington."
The tale of the various attempts to erect
a suitable memorial above the grave dates
very far back. Projects were agitated soon
after Mrs. Washington's death to mark the
spot by a stone to be paid for by the United
States Government. In the confusion at-
tendant upon the establishment of a new
nation, these lapsed, were revived, and again
forgotten. Mr. Custis's stirring appeal in
1826 awoke interest all over the country, and
for some months it seemed that the work
would be done. The proverbial apathy of
republics to their dead benefactors was not
so easily overcome. The Kenmore estate
passed out of the Lewis family, and the suc-
ceeding proprietors buried the dead of two
generations near the now sunken mound
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 147
under which lay all that was mortal of Mary
Washington, with the faithful housekeeper
and life-long friend of Mrs. Lewis close be-
side her. Mrs. Lewis died in Culpepper
County, at her daughter's home, and was
buried there. Washington slept in the
mouldering vault at Mount Vernon. By
and by a low brick wall inclosed the family
burying-ground close by the grave of the
two women, and made more palpable the
neglect of that which was left outside.
In 1833, Silas Burrows, a wealthy and
patriotic citizen of New York, offered to
bear the whole expense of constructing a
stately monument to the memory of " Mary,
THE Mother of Washington."
The desisfn lies before me as I write. A
square pedestal bears the simple inscription
I have just set down. Grecian columns, two
on each side, are set in embrasures above;
four eagles sit over these ; an obelisk tapers
to the bust of Washington, and upon the
bust is a fifth eagle, with outstretched wings
and beak. The conception is fantastic and
ungraceful, and was to be expensive.
148 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
The corner-stone was laid with great
pomp and circumstance, which were duly
detailed in the best manner of the Jenkyns
of the day in the columns of the New York
Mirror, date of June 8, 1833. Brittle pages
that crack as we flutter them are covered
with eulogy of the dead and the self-gratula-
tions of the living. We read with mournful
curiosity, considering what followed it all,
that early on the morning of May 7, 1833,
the city was crowded to overflowing. At
ten o'clock a procession was formed by the
marshals of the day, in the following order:
1. A detachment of cavalry.
2. The chief architect and Masonic soci-
eties. In this division Mr. Burrows was as-
signed a conspicuous and honorable situa-
tion.
3. The President of the United States in
an open carriage with the head of depart-
ments and his private secretary, accompa-
nied by the Monument Committee.
4. Clergy and relatives of Washington.
5. The Mayor and Common Council.
6. A handsome company of small boys, in
complete uniform, with wooden guns.
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 149
7. The officers of the army and navy of
the United States, and the invited strangers.
8. A battalion of volunteers under the
command of Major Patten, and several com-
panies of infantry from Washington and
Alexandria, with the Marine Band.
9. Strangers and citizens, six abreast. It
is estimated that there were between ten
and fifteen thousand persons present on the
occasion.
The corner-stone was adjusted with Ma-
sonic ceremonies, and Andrew Jackson laid
upon it the engraved plate, " intended to
distinofuish it." In the address that accom-
panied the transfer of the plate from the
hands of Mr. Bassett — a relative of Madam
Washino^ton and chairman of the Monu-
ment Committee — into those of the Presi-
dent, Mr. Bassett said: —
" Let us carry with us hence, engraved on
our hearts, the memory of her who is here
interred : her fortitude, her piety, her every
grace of life ; her sweet peace in death,
through her sure hope of a blessed immor-
tality."
ISO THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
The President dwelt at length upon the
characteristics of her they had met to honor,
a eulogy which hundreds of his auditors
could have verified, or challenged from their
own memories. As the speaker gained his
information from Madam Washino^ton's con-
temporaries, his verdict is of distinct value:
" She was remarkable for the vio:or of her
intellect and the firmness of her resolution.
Left in early life the sole parent of a numer-
ous family, she devoted herself with exem-
plary fidelity to the task of guiding and
educating them. ... A firm believer in
the sacred truths of religion, she taught its
principles to her children, and inculcated
an early obedience to its injunctions. It is
said by those who knew her intimately that
she acquired and maintained a wonderful
ascendancy over those around her. This
true characteristic of genius attended her
through life, and even in its decline, after
her son had led his country to independence
and had been called to preside over her
councils, he approached her with the same
reverence she had tauQ-ht him to exhibit in
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 151
early youth. This course of maternal dis-
cipHne no doubt restrained the natural ardor
of his temperament, and conferred upon
him that power of self-command which was
one of the most remarkable traits of his
character. . . .
" Fellows-citizens ! at your request and in
your name, I now deposit this plate in the
spot destined for it ; and when the American
citizen shall, in after ages, come up to this
high and holy place and lay his hand upon
this sacred column, may he recall the virtues
of her who sleeps beneath, and depart with
his affection purified and his piety strength-
ened, while he invokes blessings upon the
memory of the Mother of Washington ! "
The ceremonies concluded with the read-
ing of a poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney,
then the most popular writer of verse in
America. We make room for a portion
of it : —
"Long hast thou slept unnoticed. Nature stole
In her soft ministry around thy bed,
And spread her vernal coverings, violet-gemmed,
And pearled with dews. She bade sweet Summer
bring
152 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
Gifts of frankincense with sweet song of birds,
And Autumn cast his yellow coronet
Down at thy feet ; — and stormy Winter speak
Hoarsely of man's neglect. But now we come
To do thee homage, mother of our chief !
Fit homage, such as honoreth him who pays.
" Methinks we see thee as in olden time,
Simple in garb, majestic and serene,
Unawed by pomp and circumstance ; in truth,
Inflexible, and with a Spartan zeal
Repressing vice, and making folly grave.
Thou didst not deem it woman's part to waste
Life in inglorious sloth, to sport awhile
Amid the flowers, or on the summer wave,
Then fleet like the ephemeron away.
Building no temple in her children's hearts,
Save to the vanity and pride of life
Which she had worshiped."
I have made this long excerpt from the
proceedings of that day — memorable in the
history of Fredericksburg — not in derision,
or even in sad sarcasm, but as cumulative
testimony to the native nobility, the sterling
virtues, and rare powers of her whose story
I have told, out of the fullness of a heart
moved by the study, and by the thought
of the tarnish left upon the national name
THE STORY OF MARY WASHIXGTON 153
by failure to recognize our debt to this
woman.
Almost sixty years after panegyric and
poem vibrated upon the listening air of that
May-day, there stands above the corner-
stone that which desecrates the spot. The
hand that laid the marble block and that
which set the engraved plate upon it were
dust a generation ago ; those who remain of
the boy-soldiers are aged men, telling in
quavering tones how the architect died with-
out the sight of the stately pile he had
planned, and of the legends, some romantic,
some reasonable, which account for the
abandonment of the scheme. Fredericks-
burg folks affect most seriously the tale that
a Southern girl set the enterprise as a test
of a Northern lover's devotion, and jilted
him before the work was finished. The
likelier story is that a sudden reverse of for-
tune compelled Mr. Burrows to withhold the
funds necessary for the completion of the
monument. They tell you — white-haired
men who stepped so proudly to national airs
sounded by the Marine Band — that when
154 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
the marble monolith which was to be set
upon the recessed columns and buttressed
corners was landed at the Fredericksburor
dock, disasters followed the attempt to drag
it the half mile and more that lay between
the river and monument. A mule was
killed and a horse badly hurt, and finally the
immense mass was drawn by long lines of
men to its resting-place.
It rests there still, prone at the base of the
half-ruined pile, stained by time and weather,
and chipped by vandal hammers, a sight as
melancholy as any the sun shines on. A
worthier memorial of the American matron
whom the nations praised afar off is the
sturdy boulder, concealed from the passing
tourist by the wall that threw out Mary
Washington's grave into the common where
cattle browsed and village tramps sauntered
and slumbered at pleasure.
It was reserved for the women whose
grandmothers were her contemporaries to
right this wrong to her and to their sex.
With no blare of trumpets in the way of
public demonstration, and no protestation of
^i^^:;'^-^
i
ti^gi^flliP%f''
il!«
iililiiiiP!« ^:#""
:; 1- V ','Ij • At(ii:ji})J\ hi,. .:
/
UNFINISHED MONUMENT
THE
^EW
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 155
what they meant to accompHsh, the mem-
bers of the National Mary Washington
Memorial Association are moving steadily
toward the desired end. By the time the
reader's eye rests upon these lines, as we
hope fondly, success will be so far assured
that we may gratefully look forward to the
day when the "sacred column" will be no
more a chimera of the oratorical imagination,
or a stinging satire upon bombastic patriot-
ism that began to build and was not willing
to finish. - .; A-- -
CHAPTER IX.
Madam Washington's great-granddaugh-
ter says of her personal appearance, as de-
scribed " by those who remembered her in
the later years of her life," that she was "of
medium size, and well proportioned, the dig-
nity of bearing and the erect carriage giving
something of stateliness to her presence,
while her features were regular and strongly
marked, her brow fine, and her eyes a clear
blue."
Lossing, upon the authority of Washing-
ton's adopted son, writes: —
" She was of the full height of woman,
and in person compactly built and well pro-
portioned. She possessed great physical
strength and powers of endurance, and en-
joyed through life robust health. Her fea-
tures were strongly marked, but pleasing in
expression ; at the same time there was a
dignity in her manner that was, at first,
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 5/
somewhat repellant to a stranger, but it
always commanded thorough respect from
her friends and acquaintances. Her voice
was sweet, almost musical, in its cadences,
yet it was firm and decided, and she was
always cheerful in spirit."
Mr. Custis held to the latest day of his
life the belief that " there was no portrait
extant of the Mother of Washington."
The emphatic deliverance casts discredit
upon what were else a plausible story touch-
ing a picture of Mary Washington taken in
her early bellehood, which hung in the bed-
room of the first President, at Mount Ver-
non. As a member of Washington's family,
it was impossible that Martha Washington's
grandson should have been ignorant of the
existence of a picture said to have been
most highly prized by the President. So
jealous was his affection for it, that the
plausible tale alluded to above dwells upon
his reluctance to commit it to an artist, who
offered to have mended a " hole o^round in
the canvas" by an accident, and the picture
restored in England. The commission was
158 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
finally given, the tale goes on to say, the
picture went to England five years before
Washington's death, and was forgotten, ap-
parently, by him who had been unwilling to
have it out of his sight for so many years,
certainly forgotten by his executors, who
never claimed it. The improbability that
Mr. Custis, a zealous antiquarian, and punc-
tilious to a fault in treasuring reminiscences
of the great man whose adopted son he was,
should also have let slip from memory all
the interesting particulars connected with
the transfer of the valued relic, need not be
enlarged upon. The circumstances would
certainly have been recalled to his mind by
the many questions put to him as to whether
or not any likeness of her whom he eulo-
gizes as " this distinguished woman " were
ever painted. In compiling his Records
and Private Memoranda of Washington!,
and in his biographical sketch of Mary
Washington herself, the defaced portrait
would have been too tempting a subject to
be passed over.
The pretensions to genuineness of the
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 59
fancy sketch of the Louis Quinze beauty
who has done duty as the Rose of Epping
Forest in divers periodicals have been dis-
posed of by abler pens than mine. The
object of this supplementary chapter to a
narrative that has been throughout a labor
of love is to present a matter that has come
to light since Mr. Custis wrote and lived.
The history of another picture claiming to
be a likeness of Mary Washington is told
by Lossing in his Mary and Martha, the
Mother and Wife of Washington. From
this I compile the Story of a Portrait, which
I crave leave to lay before the reader in
these concluding pages of my book.
Mr. George Field, who died in England
in 1854, at the age of seventy-seven, w^as
the author of the British School of Modern
Artists, and other works upon art and
philosophy. In his boyhood, while on a
visit to Cookham, Berkshire, England, he
saw the " pretty country cottage in which,"
said neighborhood gossips, " the parents of
General Washington had resided " while in
^^England, and from which they removed to
l6o THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
America. In the vicinity of Cookham lived
Mrs. Morer, an old woman whose aunt —
or so she was fond of relating — had been
a maid in Augustine Washington's family
and accompanied him and Mrs. Washington
to America. Upon quitting England, the
niece, whose maiden name was Taylor, said
that the Washingtons had presented to her
family among other articles of household
stuff, ornaments, etc., a portrait of Mrs.
Washington taken before her marriage.
Mr. Field saw and examined the picture
then, and, hearing some years afterward (in
1812) of Mrs. Morer s death, he sent an
agent to buy up all her pictures at an
auction-sale of her effects. Among them,
as he had hoped and intended to do, he
secured the portrait he had coveted. By a
will dated in 1852, Mr. Field bequeathed
this relic, in the authenticity of which he
firmly believed, to Mr. George Harvey, an
artist who had heard and credited the his-
tory of the legacy. After receiving it, Mr.
Harvey made it his business to visit Cook-
ham to examine the registers of the parish
i
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON l6l
and catechise "old inhabitants." The popu-
lar tradition that the Washingtons had once
been residents of the region was proved to
be correct by the frequent recurrence of the
names of Washington and Ball in the burial
register from 1701 to 1729. As I have be-
fore stated, the registers of burials and mar-
riages had been maliciously destroyed, the
present incumbent of the living explained,
" by a rascally lawyer."
Among the aged residents whom Mr.
Harvey interviewed was a man who had
once occupied a house " in which it was sup-
posed that George Washington was born."
He ascertained, moreover, that Augustine
Washington was in England in 1729 upon
business.
The next owner of the picture was Pro-
fessor S. F. B. Morse, LL. D. He purchased
it, with the " pedigree " thereof, from Mr.
Harvey. It was accompanied by a certified
copy of Mr. Field's will and his reasons for
believing in the genuineness of the portrait.
Professor Morse brought it to the notice of
Dr. Lossing while the latter was on a visit
1 62 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
at the Professor's house in New York. The
venerable historiographer was at once struck
by the resemblance to the best likenesses
of George Washington, and became thor-
oughly convinced by examination of letters
and written affidavits submitted to him by
Professor Morse, that the portrait was that
of Mary Ball.
In the opinion of Mr. Harvey, Professor
Morse, and other art-critics, the painting is
from the hand of Thomas Hudson, who was
a popular portrait-painter in London about
1723.
Here is Dr. Lossing's summing up, after
a patient rehearsal of the incidents con-
nected with the discovery of the picture and
its passage from one owner to another : —
" At the time of Mary Ball's sojourn in
England, Hudson had a summer-residence
in Berkshire County, in the neighborhood
of the residences of the Washingtons and
Balls. May not one of the latter have em-
ployed him to paint the portrait of their
charmino: Virs^inia kinsw^oman 1 Professor
Morse expressed his strong conviction that
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 63
this picture is a portrait of Mary Ball, which
had somehow fallen into the possession of
Mrs. Morer, and, through Mr. Field and Mr.
Harvey, had come to him. And so satisfied
am I by the weight of concurrent testimony
that it is a portrait of the pretty Virginia
girl w^iom Augustine Washington married
in 1730, that I venture to offer a copy of it
in this volume as a genuine likeness of the
person of the ^Mother of Washington."
Thus far had I read when I turned back
to study the not very fine engraving, with
the facsimile of Mary Ball's signature be-
neath it. While I scanned it, a friend was
announced, to whom I said, presently, with-
out preface, and concealing the name below
the print with my hand : —
" Did you ever see this face before ? "
" Never," he answered unhesitatingly.
" What do you think of it ? "
" Hum-m-m ! I can tell you whom it re-
sembles, — General Washington ! " with the
air of one who says a preposterous thing.
His amazement was unaffected when told
how nearly he had hit the mark. He had
1 64 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
had no suspicion of the nature of my stud-
ies, or that any Hkeness of Mary Washing-
ton was extant.
A year or more after this bit of " concur-
rent " down had floated to me, a committee
appointed by the Managers of the National
Mary Washington Memorial Association
was permitted, by the courtesy of a daughter
of the late Professor Morse, to inspect the
picture, which belongs to the Morse estate.
The painting has all of Hudson's faults,
and few of his merits, but conveys the inde-
scribable impression one often experiences
in looking at the picture of a person he
has never seen, — that the likeness must be
excellent. As a work of art, it is below
mediocrity, being flat, and without depth of
color or vigor of treatment. These blem-
ishes may explain why it was not trans-
ported to America at a time w^hen freight
was troublesome and expensive. There is
a tradition that Augustine Washington's
family portraits were destroyed when the
Wakefield house was burned. It may well
have been that he possessed one of his wife
o
H
O
I— I
CO
<
>
<
a
o
o
o
THE ]\'£vv'
PUBLIC LIBhAK/
ASTOR, LENOX
iTILPgN FOUNDATrrNMc
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 165
which he preferred to what Hudson may
have dashed off upon the canvas, in experi-
ment or pastime, when they were country
nei<yhbors.
The portrait is less than life-size, and rep-
resents a sitting figure. The bodice is cut
low, and fits loosely upon bosom and shoul-
ders. In color the gown is a warm russet,
and the drapery has a shadowless effect, as
if the thought had been to lay another color
over it. The abundant hair is light chest-
nut ; the eyes are of a bluish gray, and
rather far apart ; the nose is a fine aquiline ;
the corners of the mouth are slightly de-
pressed. The hands are small, and so badly
drawn as to look like stuffed gloves ; one of
them holds a lily between thumb and finger
as it lies upon the girl's knee. A string of
pearls encircles a pretty throat ; the pose
is natural and graceful, yet there is some-
thing ungirlish in it. The resemblance to
George Washington is startling at the first
glance, and it grew upon the little group
of gazers until we could hardly withdraw
our eyes.
1 66 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
The calm dignity of feature and figure ;
the clear, fearless eyes over which the lids
drooped heavily toward the temples, — a
marked peculiarity in all the Washington
portraits ; the half-sad look imparted to the
lower half of the face by the downward
curve of the lip-lines, — had in them some-
thing weirdly familiar and fascinating. We
placed the picture in half a dozen different
lights, and looked at it from every angle ;
then the eyes of each member of the com-
mittee were turned upon the others, and all
said mutely the same thing.
Something was said, presently, of a desire
to compare the portrait with one of " her
son." The phrase dropped naturally from
the tongue, and everybody accepted it with-
out smile or cavil. Mr. G. W. Story, the
courteous and accomplished Curator of the
Metropolitan Museum of Art, in whose pri-
vate office the painting has been placed for
safe-keeping, left us for a moment, and, re-
turning, placed an admirable copy of Gilbert
Stuart's "Washington" upon a chair in a
line with Hudson's picture. A simultaneous
THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON 1 6/
exclamation broke from all present. As the
most skeptical among us afterward confessed,
— it was like " Q. E. D." !
A hundred times since I began this Story-
have the two faces, as I then beheld them,
passed between me and the paper. Gravely
meditative, with the subtle intimation of
repressed power in every lineament, and the
nameless pensiveness bespeaking a strait-
ening of soul until a great, overshadowing
destiny be accomplished, — these link them
together in my memory, and to my appre-
hension proclaim them to be of one blood
and one spirit.
However much of this may be fantasy
and how much truth, there is no doubt that
the attributes which made the greatest
American what all acres will acknowledofe
him to have been were set like type of
purest metal in the plastic nature of the
" big boy " by her who has slept for over a
century upon the consecrated knoll over-
looking the Rappahannock valley.
Spontaneous generation of virtue is no
more a possibility than that physical life
1 68 THE STORY OF MARY WASHINGTON
should be self-quickened. Washington was
not an abnormal product of chance elements,
but the natural and glorious upspringing
and fruit-bearing, after its kind, of good seed
cast into good ground.
APPENDIX
THE WILL OF MARY WASHINGTON, AS REGISTERED IN
THE clerk's OFFICE AT FREDERICKSBURG, VIRGINIA.
In the name of God ! Amen ! I, Mary Wash-
ington, of Fredericksburg in the County of Spotsyl-
vania, 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 bed-room), 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.
I/O APPENDIX
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 as-
signs forever, also eight silver tablespoons, half of my
crockery ware 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, Law-
rence 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.
APPENDIX 171
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, Gen-
eral 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.
^H THE NEW
^^M REF
^^^1 This book is
YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
ERENGE DEPARTMENT
under no circumstances to be
en from the Building
H
fl
H
H
fl
H
S
fl
H
^
1
J
^
]
•
i
4
^^M 410
SUNDAY MOKNING. ^lAY 13. 1900.
^■•(. «.* fc w*
< KJnA. « 1. ^ ^ t^ k I.
t^ I . . v/.
I -^umoKLu 11 m;q; ejoiu Suiq;ouio
leq Sui.ispudj snq; puB 'aSpaiAvou>i b
iufH; -B sno.idSin?p os .leq uioaj Suipui^
ep Xq aeq Jsuqiodi^ jo >isi.i" aq:^ Siiiuu
noqjTAi iuoo.i->i,:)ie eq; m jaq o:i pa:).ic
uij eq uBa jfaoAv aeq ui [u^jb ibdujb.i
uatoLyns ^-Rq^ pur?— Luaoj.iaci o; payi[T3n
)a9.\i sdsanu peuoiqsBj-pio 9q:j jo' ;?u
cq; saijnp .•C.iBuipjo eqj op o:^ iobj Tj-vll
-pooj Biq a.jBdajd puu ean^Bjadoisi sif
•>IBJ 'peq siq ajfBiu '^usn-Bd J9q qsBAV 6^
)auaBot douo SBq oqs aaqAv gjaidiuf o ,?
'S.mu B JO uoijBonpe -^q^ :jBq) 'eifiati-
:.iaA ejB pajrnbaj sat^np oq) ^sqj 'uoissa
O.XCI B JO siuaiu8[.-) its.iif eqi :>ou e?Bq' Su
s.uiu 4Bq; pa^^iiupB eq c; eA-yq pinou iDCC
^n.n AieAV s^osiLuajd osjoqj j£ •uoijeonpnCL
aap.io qSiq b aoj >faoAV ^qi .tq pap'.io
JB edoDs JO .■^jissejdu oit si a.ieq:} :jBq
iiB-)uiBiu puB 'qSnuuo poJi? si abMni
'auoiqsBj-p[0 aq; ;Bq; uuBioo.id' pinoqand
>nj; eq oi siqj eAetiaq Xnsauoq cq.\ta
idoad ^Bq-^ iBjnjBiiuri ]i (,'t jo^t -.kxib
BniiBui in Agaiqo t;;t;tsiioj Suiaanu iBq
oiss?9Jduii 9q:^ ^ABq uiia oqiw 's.iibjjt
uisjnu uo poauojui saAiosiu^q-j daa:
1 aiqnojj aqj ua>iBj )ou OA-Bq oqA.
soq; SuouiB JO 'aAn-BAjasuoD A.id\ ©q
iiouiB aiuod uiBiuaj nn« a.iaqi 'puBuezer
oi[-\o eq; uq -suoissajojdaqrjo^l SuiSuoie. f^^y
B :\\ .^jiesJBio oqAv Aubiu punoj qj-b 'joe
qns riq; jo SurpuBjsjapun pBo.rq v. aABi^^*-^"
qAv 'onqnd iBjauaS aqj jo asoq;j auoiu: the
€)Aa puB -ann siq; jo .^^luSip aq; vstJOArton,
ao uodn aajuco o; suoissajojd aaq:^o ji' ^
laqiuaui loj puB 'uija; aq; jo asn ajfBu'^
jBioisA'qd jBaq o; iBrionun :}ou ;t gi^ent
[uo ;oK •uotssajojd s sb .^b.w iBjauai and
UI JO uaitods aq oj auioo a;B[ jo SBUeful
uis.mu 'siB^idsoq :)saq ano jo auo emo;
I SuuuBj; joq paAiaoaj sBq oqAV 'a;Br'^'^^^
>BaS aq:j jo >{.ioav aqj jo SutifBads uj life,
./uo.issajojcl "B SB Suisjn^.f hig
:5iJBUiaJ Aux jo ;oafqn^ eq:t SBpavoa..^ ,
3S aABq I 'puuu Am ur SunBuiuiop9J<^ ^^
^q§noq; oav; aeJaq; q^i^vv -IBjidsoH I^^-is^ >r^
.lao -^UBqiv eq; uiojj q;joj oS o; 'sa;r^^f,^
ipBJjg jo ssBp ;s.iy aq; "stq; Suissajppr .
^ jouoq aq; avou aABq puB uoi;b;tau'^^°^^
ui>i J.noA pa;daDO'B aABq i ;uidt5 siq
I •;! o; SuiuiB;jad sjibjj-b aqV uo k;
loqinB q;tAv 5ip.ads o; pa;oadxa avou oj
iAi;B;uasaadaj s;i ;Bq; puB aouauadx
iBaX &;t paqoBaj BBq Sutsjuu" ;Bq
uiiBOipiii UB SB uo'dn pa:>ioo[ aq .^bu;
oi;baouui aq; aun; auiBs aq; ;b G[iqA
ueq; Aq papjBSaj st autoipaai jo qouBac
RinoiUBd s
the
•slons
^id ip
good for I had better stay single, so I
never went back."
Tnusrht ill Iiifliaii Kindergarten.
One of the old man's most interesting
experiences, and which he was exceed- j
ingly fond of telling", was how he
taught the first kindergarten, and that,
too, to a race that could neither speak
nor understand a word of English.
This was during his Indian experiences
in the West. It was all in the most
primitive manner, yet not unlike the
kindergarten of to-day. He drew rude
pictures of birds in the sand and re-
peated the name, while pointing to a j
bird flying overhead at the time. By j
this means he taught the names of
animals and objects, and at the same
time learned the Indian language. An-
other story of which he was fond and
that seemed more vivid to his mind
than most of the others was his re-
membrance of seeing Lafayette when
the great general made his last visit
to this countrj'.
There was no doubt about his gene-
alogy, for the Sons of the American
Revolution made a thorough investiga-
tion of it, and, being perfectly sati-gfied,
made him a life member of their so-
ciety, without payment of dues or other
expenses. This is the only time sucl^
a thing has been done by the society. .
In speaking of Colonel Ball an ofllcial
of the pension office said: "He was
a fine old gentleman of gi-eat dignity
and reserve, and even those passing
through the building for the first time
would comment upon his striking like-
ness to George Washington. This com-
pliment he always received with great
pride. He took a pride in his pedigree
and, being denied the means of sup-
porting it appropriately, he w-ent about
making the most of things in a sen-
sible manner. His photograph was fre-
quently asked for, so he conceived the
idea of selling it along with other sou-
venirs, and to each picture he attached
a short printed family history and his
autograph."
■ » ■
I
•aojnos po-oiq suips ain tuo.13
eoBi'Ott^suatliDt^aEqo euy sm p^)AUtop Aipa
-lanopun puB *asnoi[ uo:i9umsuAi -^U^ J^\
anis luutj 30 ;ui.^pue.osap v sbav iibs l^u
-oioo Anvn^J H.aaq^oiu sm uiojj saanT^Jl
siu Mooj :iuapisaacl ;sji} am Pl^« "^-^^
This book Ygums^^ aSjoao o^ aau^iqiuasaj ibuos
t -aacl stH '^V^^ smi Jo sanu'^uos.iart anb:ia
* . ^ " -pasieayap aq^
TO uisnoD T? s^AV oqAV '"O a 'UANO^oSaoao
10 'iTBa uo;SuiqsB,vL aSaoao si uo^^Ji
-auaq^i lauoioD jo ^^^^v eiU 83U!S -ilT^a
lauoToo 0% aaqiojq ns s'Bav 'uoir^toossv
A\opLw asoqAV -ba 'puotuqom 30 MT?a
aSpnr ' -u-BLUSUiii :i^o.i2 siq o, pa:iBiaa
soL^ uiiq Sui^TJUi 'uo3Suiq.sBAV e.9.ioao
loaoaiu -B puB q.ne>is sun ?« ;oaqns
aui 10 jaqioiupuBuS 9^^ 'uo:tSuiqsBM
SauB^^ paiaa^ui an uaq^om s.uo^l
-SuiiTKB w -s-BAv oq.w "ilTsa Aaupv 3^) uib
-noa isjq -e sbav, ilBg ssaSxna lauoioo
-s-C-ep g8 ^l"<> paAiA.ms aq uioq.w
•uoi2uiqsi3AV l-eaauao 'vnsnoD sm 3^
ou^ PUB uoi^moAaa 8M> Suunp asuad
_xa xiAvo siq";^ ^uamiSaj v paum^xiiB'.u
PUT? paddmba oqAV 'u^a ssaSana I^'^
.0103 SBAV jaq^BjpuTsaS siH jU8I «! "^A
'3jnia sjiBa re ujoq sbav n^a I'^ucrioo
•smiBd Suip-B^adsino aq:^ qSno.un
dn Sun-Bou sadid puB sjbSid ai^-q; 30
a^ouis aniq aqi 'lisiA puB ^is ^-^^^IP^^^ P}^
aui aaan ssautiaAOi uBipBaay Jo auo
o?u[ auaos aq:^ suan; 'saaipios pp aqi .T03
vaSuB.UB axB STBas aiq-B^iaojuioo qom^
iapun 'pio sj^a.^ X:ijy luaqi 3° J^;"^^^
'suited ^BajS 30 ssauaapiiM \ ^^^f "<^^^P
SIX ^Sno.tm apnS-ao:iiuoK ^m P^b
omuuaaw aqi-s:,.Boqun§ s^«^"^J 2^^
TO siapoui ^aa3Jad a.iaqAV ut.-Bq aoU^
9Ui oiui siiBj :n SB OTsnui injTsaa qiiAv
ao^Td aqa s lU u{Biuno3 V -qSnoaq, Xbp
a?o4l am jqSnuns q^iAv pu^^- siq pant,
9Dmo uoisuad aq; 30 auiop A3301 ^^1.
^ • 4 -^lUB-Vi. uicij ui!,q]
daaH m TiSnoua uj-ea pinoo aq s.xiu9Anos
liaqM 'eoUJO uoisuad aq; gojP^-^^o^^t^].
form 410
su:n"day mokxing. 3iay 13. 1900.
WAS NEXT OF KIN
TO WASHINGTON
COL. KBENEZER BIRGKSS BALL
AKAREST RELATIVE OF THE
FIRST PRESIDEXT.
HE WAS PROUD OF HIS PEDIGREE
P'arly Career of Adventure and
Fortune — lie Kept a CIgrar Stand
in tlie Pension Otiiee at the
\a1ioiial Capitol.
Wiih the death of Colonel Ebenezer
Burgess Ball, which occurred a few
days ago, says a Washington dispatch
to an exchange, there passed away the
neai-^st relative of George Washington,
and one of the most familiar figures of
the capital. Though the go\ernment
which should have honored him and
made him a pensioner of a grateful
nation left him to earn his daily bread
through the oi'dinary channels of life.
It was his fate to spend many of his
last yeai-& in one of the most beautiful
spots, belonging to the government.
This wonderful old man, when denied
a position under the government insti-
tuted and designed by his illustrious
kinsman, was allowed, through the
courtesy of Commissioner of Pensions
If t.% ''^^f^^ |if t^jgar* stand ir
good for I had better stay single, so T
never went back."
TnuHTht in Indian Kindergarten.
One of the old man's most interesting
experiences, and which he was exceed
ingly fond of telling, was how h'
taught the first kindergarten, and that
too, to a race that could neither speal
nor understand a woi'd of English
This was during his Indian experience-
in the West. It was all in the mos'
primitive manner, yet not unlike th
kindergarten of to-day. He drew rud.
pictures of birds in the sand and re
peated the name, while pointing to a
bird flying overhead at the time. By
this means he taught the names of
animals and objects, and at the same
time learned the Indian language. An-
other story of which he was fond and
that seemed more vivid to his mind
than most of the others was his re-
memljrance of seeing Lafayette when
the great general made his last visit
to this countrj'.
There was no doubt about his gene-
alogy, for the Sons of the American
Revolution made a thorough investiga-
tion of it, and, being perfectly satisfied,
made him a life member of their so-
ciety, without payment of dues or other
expenses. This is the only time such,
a thing has been done by the society. -
In speaking of Colonel Ball an official
of the pension office said: "He was
a fine old gentleman of great dignity
and reserve, and even those passing
through the building for the first time
would comment upon his striking like-
ness to George Washington. This com-
pliment he always received with great
pride. He took a pride in his pedigree
and, being denied the means of sup-
porting it appropriately, he went about
making the most of things in a sen-
sible manner. His photograph was fre-
quently asked for, so he conceived the
idea of selling it along with other sou-
venirs, and to each picture he attached
a short printed family history and his
autograph,"
« ^ «
i«-
mp^
m
mam
■^'
me
mmm.
■ . -r j'if r'lr sts'
Mm
