I.MARTHA WASHINGTON.

Eng_d. by J.C. Buttre.MARTHA WASHINGTON.FROM STUART’S PICTURE

MARTHA WASHINGTON.FROM STUART’S PICTURE

THELadies of the White House.

THE

Ladies of the White House.

I.MARTHA WASHINGTON.

The first who, in our young republic, bore the honors as a President’s wife, is described “as being rather below the middle size, but extremely well-shaped, with an agreeable countenance, dark hazel eyes and hair, and those frank, engaging manners so captivating in American women. She was not a beauty, but gentle and winning in her nature, and eminently congenial to her illustrious husband. During their long and happy married life, he ever wore her likeness on his heart.”

“It was in 1758 that an officer, attired in a military undress, attended by a body-servant tall and militaire as his chief, crossed the ferry over the Pamunkey, a branch of the York River. On the boat’s touching the southern or New Kent side, the soldier’s progress was arrested by one of those personages who give the beauideal of the Virginia gentleman of the old regime; the very soul of kindliness and hospitality. It was in vain the soldier urged his business at Williamsburg; important communications to the Governor, etc. Mr.Chamberlayne, on whose domain the officer had just landed, would hear no excuse. Colonel Washington was a name and character so dear to all Virginians, that his passing by one of the old estates of Virginia without calling and partaking of the hospitalities of the host was entirely out of the question. The Colonel, however, did not surrender at discretion, but stoutly maintained his ground, till Chamberlayne brought up his reserve in the intimation that he would introduce his friend to a young and charming widow then beneath his roof. The soldier capitulated on condition that he should dine, only dine, and then, by pressing his charger, and borrowing of the night, he would reach Williamsburg before his Excellency could shake off his morning slumbers. Orders were accordingly issued to Bishop, the Colonel’s body-servant and faithful follower, who, together with a fine English charger, had been bequeathed by the dying Braddock to Major Washington on the famed and fated field of the Monongahela. Bishop, bred in the school of European discipline, raised his hand to his cap, as much as to say, ‘Your honor’s orders shall be obeyed.’ The Colonel now proceeded to the mansion, and was introduced to various guests (for when was a Virginia domicil of the olden time without guests?), and, above all, to the charming widow. Tradition relates that they were mutually pleased on this their first interview, nor is it remarkable; they were of an age when impressions are strongest. The lady was fair to behold, of fascinating manners, and splendidly endowed with worldlybenefits; the hero, fresh from his early fields redolent of fame, and with a form on which ‘every god did seem to set his seal, to give the world assurance of a man.’ The morning passed pleasantly away; evening came, with Bishop, true to his orders and firm at his post, holding the favorite charger with the one hand, while the other was waiting to offer the ready stirrup. The sun sank in the horizon, and yet the Colonel appeared not, and then the old soldier wondered at his chief’s delay. ’Twas strange; ’twas passing strange. Surely he was not wont to be a single moment behind his appointments, for he was the most punctual of all punctual men. Meantime, the host enjoyed the scene of the veteran on duty at the gate, while the Colonel was so agreeably employed in the parlor; and proclaiming that no guest ever left his house after sunset, his military visitor was, without much difficulty, persuaded to order Bishop to put up the horses for the night. The sun rode high in the heavens the ensuing day when the enamored soldier pressed with his spur his charger’s sides and sped on his way to the seat of government, when, having despatched his public business, he retraced his steps, and at her country-seat, the White House, after which the home of the Presidents was called, the engagement took place, with arrangements for the marriage.”

It is pleasant to remember that, with all the privations and hardships endured by both in after years, they never encountered poverty. When Colonel Washington married Mrs. Custis, the ceremony was performed underthe roof of her own home, and the broad lands about it were but a part of her large estate. Immediately after their wedding, which has been described repeatedly as a most joyous and happy affair, in which every belle and beau for miles around took part, they repaired at once to Mount Vernon. Here for seventeen bright and beautiful years they enjoyed the society of relatives and friends, and the constant companionship of each other. During those years of prosperity, Mrs. Washington had ample opportunity to manifest that elegance of manner for which she was remarkable. In her girlhood, as Miss Dandridge, she had enjoyed the best society of Williamsburg, and during Governor Dinwiddie’s residence there, she had been one of the most popular and admired of the many blooming girls who had rendered the court of the Governor attractive.

Nothing remains to us of her childhood save an indistinct tradition;[1]perhaps her infant years were spent at her father’s country home, unmarked but by the gradual change of the little one into the shy young lady. That she was educated after the exigency of her time, at home, is likewise a truth gathered from the echoes of the past generation. Virginia in those early days—for she was born in May, 1732—possessed no educational facilities, and the children of the wealthy were either sent abroad for accomplishments unattainable in their native land, or put under the care of tutor or governess at home. Such knowledge as she possessed of the world was gleaned from the few books she read, and the society of her father’s friends, for she had never been farther from home than Williamsburg.

1. She was a descendant of the Rev. Orlando Jones, a clergyman of Wales.

Painted by Woolaston. Eng_d. by J. C. Buttre. M. Washington

She is first mentioned as a rustic beauty and belle at the British Governor’s residence, and was there married, when very young, to Colonel Custis. After her marriage her home was not far distant from her father’s plantation, and these fleeting years were so fraught with every conceivable blessing that her young heart asked no other boon. Endeared to each other by the warmest affection, her time spent in dispensing that hospitality which was deemed a duty and a virtue, it seemed as if no trouble could ever mar her happiness. Colonel Custis was a gifted and refined man, of eminently polished and agreeable manners, and the possessor of a generous nature, which rendered him widely popular. The congenial couple lived in happy contentment in the enjoyment of their own and their children’s society, surrounded by friends, and the possessors of all those creature comforts which add so essentially to the pleasures of existence. They had three children, the eldest of whom was a son, unusually endowed with mental gifts, and giving promise of a bright future. His health was not good, and though watched over with continuous care and forethought he died, and his untimely death hastened the disease already manifest in his father’s system. Colonel Custisdied of consumption a short time afterward, and thus was the wife and mother deprived of her companion, whose affection was in keeping with his many virtues and elevated mind, and the boy whose existence had first called into being all the deathless love of a mother.

Time soothed the wounds naught else could heal, and the young widow discharged the duties that belonged to her position. The trust her husband reposed in her—in leaving their large property in her own hands to control—she amply vindicated, and her estate was one of the best managed in the county. When she met Colonel Washington she was twenty-six years of age, and was remarkably youthful in appearance and very handsome. She had ever been the object of warm and disinterested affection, and from her first entrance into the society of Williamsburg, down to the last hour of her life, it was eminently illustrated. Few had been her sorrows, and for each and every one endured she could count a twofold blessing. There was nothing in her life to foster the faults incident to human nature, for the rank weeds of poverty and lack of opportunity, which cramp and deform so many earth-lives, were unfelt and unknown to her.

Mount Vernon was the gift to Colonel Washington from his elder and bachelor brother Lawrence, and the estate was then one of the finest in Virginia. Washington had made it his occasional residence before his marriage, but it was not until he took his bride there that it became his permanent home. The life that Mrs.Washington led there was similar in outward circumstances to her former position as Mrs. Custis, for she was again the wife of a wealthy, prosperous planter, the centre of the refined society of the county. The sameness of country life was interrupted by her frequent trips with her husband to Williamsburg, where he was for fifteen successive years a member of the Legislature.

“How noiseless falls the foot of timeThat only treads on flowers!”

“How noiseless falls the foot of time

That only treads on flowers!”

Engaged in fascinating pleasures and congenial pursuits, it did not occur to Mrs. Washington how many summers of fragrantly blooming flowers and ripening fruits had sunk into the unreturning past; nor did she consider that the long term of years in which she had been so happy had meted to others measured drops of bitterness, turning all their harvest-times into chilling, dreary winter. There came to her a time when the pleasant home-life had to be abandoned, and for eight years the harmony of domestic peace was banished.

The following letter, the only one preserved of the many addressed to her, is full of interest, and is replete with that thoughtfulness which characterized Washington in his capacity as a husband. Mrs. Washington, shortly before her death, destroyed every testimonial of this kind, unwilling that any other should read these evidences of affection:

“Philadelphia,18th June, 1775.

“My Dearest: I am now set down to write to you ona subject which fills me with inexpressible concern, and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it.

“You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospects of finding abroad if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my letter, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not and ought not to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in myown esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore beg that you will summon your whole fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. Nothing else will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a tolerable degree of tranquillity, as it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid.

“As life is always uncertain, and common prudence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his temporal concerns while it is in his power, I have, since I came to this place—for I had no time to do it before I left home—got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me by the directions I gave him, which I will now enclose. The provisions made for you, in case of my death, will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add nothing more, as I have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned regard, my dear Patsy,

“Your affectionateGeorge Washington.”

This trial of separation was mitigated, although oftenprolonged to weary months. Ever when the long Indian summer days of October shed glory over the burnished forest trees, her cumbrous carriage with its heavy hangings and massive springs, suggestive of comfort, was brought to the door and laden with all the appurtenances of a winter’s visit. Year after year, as she had ordered supplies for this annual trip to her husband’s camp, she trusted it would be the last; and each time as the servants cooked and packed for this too oft-repeated absence, they wished it might hurry him home, to remember how many were needing his presence there. The battles were fierce and the struggles long, and if the orderly matron disliked the necessity of leaving home so often and for so long a time, her heart was glad of the sacrifice when she reached the doubly anxious husband who was watching and waiting for her—anxious for his wife, somewhere on the road, and for his bleeding country, struggling unavailingly for the eternal principles of freedom. It was her presence that gave comfort to the ofttimes dispirited commander, and sent a gleam of sunshine to the hearts of the officers, who saw in her coming the harbinger of their own happiness. For it was an established custom, for all who could, to send for their families after the commander had received and welcomed his. General Washington, after her annual trip, invariably wrote to persons who had been attentive and obliging, and punctually thanked every one who had in any way conduced to her comfort during her tedious stages from Mount Vernon. Never but once or twice had thoseyearly moves been disagreeable, and though universally unoffending, she felt the painful effects of party bitterness; but the noble intrepidity of General Washington relieved the depressing influences of such unusual occurrences. Her own pride suffered nothing in comparison to the natural sensitiveness she felt for her husband’s fair fame, and the coldness on the part of others affected only as it reflected on her noble protector. Once, after a disastrous campaign, as she was passing through Philadelphia, she was insulted by the ladies there, who declined noticing her by any civilities whatever. The tide in the affairs of men came, and, alas for human nature! many of these haughty matrons were the first to welcome her there as the wife of the President.

Mrs. Washington was unostentatious in her dress, and displayed little taste for those luxurious ornaments deemed appropriate for the wealthy and great. In her own home the spinning wheels and looms were kept constantly going, and her dresses were, many times, woven by her servants. General Washington wore at his inauguration, a full suit of fine cloth, the handiwork of his own household. At a ball given in New Jersey in honor to herself, she wore a “simple russet gown,” and white handkerchief about her neck, thereby setting an example to the women of the Revolution, who could ill afford to spend their time or means as lavishly as they might have desired. “On one occasion she gave the best proof of her success in domestic manufactures, by the exhibition of two of her dresses, which were composedof cotton, striped with silk, and entirely home-made. The silk stripes in the fabric were woven from the ravelings of brown silk stockings and old crimson chair-covers!”

When peace was declared and her mantle folded round the suffering young Republic, Mrs. Washington welcomed to Mount Vernon her hero-husband, who naturally hoped that he might “move gently down the stream of life until he slept with his fathers.” But a proud, fond people called him again from his retreat to guide the ship of state; nor was he who had fought her battles, and served her well, recreant now.

Mrs. Washington’s crowning glory in the world’s esteem is the fact that she was the bosom companion of the “Father of his Country;” but her fame as Martha Dandridge, and afterwards as Martha Custis, is due alone to her moral worth. To her, as a girl and woman, belonged beauty, accomplishments, and great sweetness of disposition. Nor should we, in ascribing her imperishable memory to her husband’s greatness, fail to do reverence to the noble attributes of her own nature; yet we cannot descend to the hyperbolical strain so often indulged in by writers when speaking of Mrs. Washington. In tracing the life of an individual, it becomes necessary to examine the great events and marked incidents of the times, and generally to form from such landmarks the motives that prompted the acts of an earth-existence. More especially is this necessary if the era in which our subject lived was remarkable for any heroic deeds orvalorous exploits which affected the condition of mankind. Personally, Mrs. Washington’s life was a smooth and even existence, save as it was stirred by some natural cause, but viewed in connection with the historical events of her day, it became one of peculiar interest.

As a wife, mother, and friend, she was worthy of respect, but save only as the companion of Washington is her record of public interest. She was in nowise a student, hardly a regular reader, nor gifted with literary ability; but if stern necessity had forced her from her seclusion and luxury, hers would have been a career of active effort and goodness. Most especially would she have been a benevolent woman, and it is to be regretted by posterity as a misfortune that there was no real urgency for a more useful life. Her good fortune it was to be wealthy, of good family, young and attractive; and if she was not versed in the higher branches of literature, it was no fault of her own, probably, since the drawbacks incident to the pursuit of knowledge, under the difficulties and obstacles of a life in a new country, together with their early marriages, deterred women from “drinking deep of the Pierean spring;” but, under the benign influences of Christian morality, the maidens of the Old Dominion were carefully and virtuously trained, and were exemplary daughters, wives, and mothers.

Many have occupied the nominal position Mrs. Washington held, but, in reality, no American, or, indeed, no woman of earth, will ever be so exalted in the hearts ofa nation as was she; and yet there is no single instance recorded of any act of heroism of hers, although she lived in times that tried men’s souls, and was so intimately associated through her husband with all the great events of the Revolution. “Nor does it appear, from the documents handed down to us, that she was a very notable housewife, but rather inclined to leave the matter under her husband’s control, whose method and love of domestic life admirably fitted him to manage a large establishment. They evidently lived together on very excellent terms, though she sometimes was disposed to quarrel with him about the grandchildren, who he insisted (and he always carried the point) should be under thorough disciplinarians, as well as competent teachers, when they were sent from home to be educated.”

It was a source of regret that she bore no children to him, but an able writer has said: “Providence left him childless that he might be the father of his country.” It is hard to judge whether or not it was a blessing; but it certainly has not detracted from his greatness that he left no successor to his fame. On the contrary, it is all the brighter from having no cloud to dim the solitary grandeur of his spotless name. Few sons of truly great and illustrious men have ever reflected honor upon their fathers and many have done otherwise. When we consider how many representative men of the world, in all nations and ages, have been burdened and oppressed with the humiliating conduct of their children, let it be asource of joy, rather than of regret, that there was butoneWashington, either by the ties of consanguinity or the will of Providence. This character was never marred by any imperfect type of its own, and in Washington’s life we recognize the fact that occasionally, in great emergencies, God lifts up a man for the deed; when the career is ended, the model, though not the example, is lost to the world.

Mrs. Washington’s two children (Martha and John Parke Custis) were with her the bright years of her life intervening between her marriage and the Revolution. Her daughter was fast budding into womanhood, and how beautiful, thought the loving mother, were the delicate outlines of her fair young face! Airy castles and visionary scenes of splendor reared their grand proportions in the twilight-clouds of her imagination; and in the sunlight of security she saw not, or, if perchance did define, the indistinct outlines of the spectre, grim and gaunt, heeded not its significant appearance at her festive board.

In all the natural charms of youth, freshness, and worldly possessions, the mother’s idol, the brother’s playmate, and father’s cherished daughter, died, and the light of the house went out, and a wail of anguish filled the air as the night winds rushed hurryingly past that desolate home on the shore of the murmuring river.

A great purpose was born out of that grief: a self-abnegated firmness to rise above the passionate lamentations of selfish sorrow; and though afterward, foryears, the shadow of a past woe rested upon that famous home, the poor loved it better than ever before, and meek charity found more willing hands than in the days of reckless happiness. Religion, too, and winning sympathy, softened the poignant grief, and

“The fates unwound the ball of time,And dealt it out to man.”

“The fates unwound the ball of time,

And dealt it out to man.”

The cannon of the Continental Militia at Lexington belched forth its hoarse sound on the morning of the 15th of April, 1775, as in the gray twilight of approaching day a band of invaders sallied up to demand the dispersion of the rebels. The echo of those reports went ringing through the distant forests, and fleetest couriers carried its tidings beyond the rippling waves of the Potomac, calling the friends of freedom to arms. Mrs. Washington heard the war-cry, and felt that the absence of her husband was now indefinite; for she knew that from his post in the councils of the nation he would go to serve his country in the field. Nor was she mistaken in her conclusions.

She met the Commander-in-chief at his winter head-quarters at Cambridge, after an absence of nearly a year, in December, 1775, and remained with him until opening of the spring campaign. During the Revolution she continued to spend each winter with him at his head-quarters. Early in this year she returned to her home, leaving behind her son, John Parke Custis, who had been with his adopted father from the beginning of the war.

The next winter she passed at Morristown, New Jersey, where she experienced some of the real hardships and sufferings of camp life. The previous season, at Cambridge, the officers and their families had resided in the mansions of the Tories, who had deserted them to join the British; but at Morristown she occupied a small frame-house, without any convenience or comforts, and, as before, returned in the spring, with her daughter-in-law and children, to Mount Vernon.[2]

2. Mr. John Parke Custis was married to Miss Nelly Calvert the third of February, 1774.

Valley Forge, during the last months of 1777 and the early part of 1778, was the scene of the severest sufferings, replete with more terrible want than any ever known in the history of the Colonies.[3]

3. Six miles above Norristown, Pennsylvania, and twenty from Philadelphia, on the Schuylkill river, is the deep hollow known as Valley Forge. It is situated at the mouth of Valley creek, and on either side rise the mountains above this lonely spot. To the fact that in this valley there had once been several forges, it owes its name, and here Washington found winter-quarters for his suffering army.

During all this winter of horrors, Mrs. Washington remained with her husband, trying to comfort and animate him in the midst of his trials. Succeeding years brought the same routine, and victory and defeat walked ofttimes hand in hand. October of 1781 brought glad tidings of great joy, in the capture of Yorktown, and nothing seemed to defer the long anticipated return of General Washington to his family and friends.

Ere yet the shouts of victory rang out upon the listening ear of a continent, Colonel Custis was borne fromthe scene of triumph to a village in New Kent county to die, and soon the messenger startled the wife and mother at Mount Vernon with the mournful intelligence. Washington, amid the intense joy of his troops, could not conceal his anxious feelings over the condition of this deeply loved son of his adoption, and his heart went out to his crushed wife, so soon to be widowed, and to Mrs. Washington, who idolized the son of her youth. “He left Yorktown on the 5th of November, and reached, the same day, the residence of his old friend, Colonel Bassett. He arrived just in time to receive the last breath of John Parke Custis, as he had several years previously rendered tender and pious offices at the death-bed of his sister, Miss Custis. The deceased had been the object of Washington’s care from childhood, and been cherished by him with paternal affection. Reared under his guidance and instructions, he had been fitted to take a part in the public concerns of his country, and had acquitted himself with credit as a member of the Virginia Legislature. He was but twenty-eight years old at the time of his death, and left a widow and four young children. It was an unexpected event, and the dying scene was rendered peculiarly affecting from the presence of the mother and wife of the deceased. Washington remained several days at Eltham to comfort them in their affliction. As a consolation to Mrs. Washington in her bereavement, he adopted the two youngest children of the deceased, a boy and girl, who thenceforth formed a part of his immediate family.”

PIERSON SCMT. VERNON—THE HOME OF WASHINGTON.

MT. VERNON—THE HOME OF WASHINGTON.

Mrs. Washington did not know that her husband had left the scene of his triumph, until he suddenly appeared in the room of death; and it calmed her to have his presence in so trying an hour. He returned with the sad mourners to Mount Vernon, and mingled with those two sorrowful hearts the tears of his own sad soul.

The world and its cares called him hence, and he turned away from his quiet home to meet the demands of his country for his services. Congress received him in Philadelphia with distinguished honors, and he everywhere was the recipient of his country’s love and reverence.

Called from his retirement to preside over the destinies of his country as its first President, Washington immediately left his home and repaired to New York City, the seat of government.[4]

4. The journey to New York was a continued triumph. The august spectacle at the bridge of Trenton brought tears to the eyes of the Chief, and forms one of the most brilliant recollections of the age of Washington.

Our young country demanded, in the beginning, that regard for forms and etiquette which would command respect in the eyes of foreign courts; and, acting in accordance with this design, the house of the first President was furnished with elegance, and its routine was arranged in as formal a manner as that of St. James or St. Cloud.

Always an aristocrat, Mrs. Washington’s administration as hostess was but a reproduction of the customs and ceremonies of foreign heads of government, and herreceptions were arranged on the plan of the English and French drawing-rooms.

She assumed the duties of her position, as wife of the Chief Magistrate, with the twofold advantage of wealth and high social position, and was, in manner, appearance and character, a pleasing and graceful representative of American womanhood.

Reared as she had been, a descendant of the chivalry of Virginia, who in their turn were the descendants of the English nobility—aristocratic, proud and pleased with her lofty position—she brought to bear all the brightness of a prosperous existence, and her influence extended to foreign lands.

The levees held at the Republican Court—then located at No. 3 Franklin Square, New York—were numerously attended by the fashionable and refined of the city. The rules of the establishment were rigorous, and persons were excluded unless in the dress required. Access was not easy, and dignified stateliness reigned over the mansion of the first President of the United States. The subjoined letter, written to Mrs. Warren soon after Mrs. Washington’s arrival at the seat of government, will present her views on the subject of her elevation more correctly than could be given otherwise.

“Your very friendly letter of last month has afforded me much more satisfaction than all the formal compliments and empty ceremonies of mere etiquette couldpossibly have done. I am not apt to forget the feelings which have been inspired by my former society with good acquaintances, nor to be insensible to their expressions of gratitude to the President; for you know me well enough to do me the justice to believe that I am fond only of what comes from the heart. Under a conviction that the demonstrations of respect and affection to him originate in that source, I cannot deny that I have taken some interest and pleasure in them. The difficulties which presented themselves to view upon his first entering upon the Presidency, seem thus to be in some measure surmounted. It is owing to the kindness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my new and unwished-for situation is not a burden to me. When I was much younger, I should probably have enjoyed the innocent gayeties of life as much as most persons of my age; but I had long since placed all prospects of my future worldly happiness in the still enjoyment of the fireside at Mount Vernon. I little thought, when the war was finished, that any circumstances could possibly happen which would call the General into public life again. I had anticipated that from that moment we should be suffered to grow old together in solitude and tranquillity. That was the first and dearest wish of my heart. I will not, however, contemplate with too much regret, disappointments that were inevitable, though his feelings and my own were in perfect unison with respect to our predilection for private life; yet I cannot blame him for having actedaccording to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country. The consciousness of having attempted to do all the good in his power, and the pleasure of finding his fellow-citizens so well satisfied with the disinterestedness of his conduct, will doubtless be some compensation for the great sacrifices which I know he has made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon to this place, in his late tour through the Eastern States, by every public and every private information which has come to him, I am persuaded he has experienced nothing to make him repent his having acted from what he conceives to be a sense of indispensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility has been awakened in receiving such repeated and unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his countrymen. With respect to myself, I sometimes think the arrangement is not quite as it ought to have been; that I, who had much rather be at home, should occupy a place with which a great many younger and gayer women would be extremely pleased. As my grandchildren and domestic connections make up a great portion of the felicity which I looked for in this world, I shall hardly be able to find any substitute that will indemnify me for the loss of such endearing society. I do not say this because I feel dissatisfied with my present station, for everybody and everything conspire to make me as contented as possible in it; yet I have learned too much of the vanity of human affairs to expect felicity from the scenes of public life. I am still determined to be cheerful and happy in whateversituation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other about with us in our minds, wherever we go.”

The second year of Washington’s administration, the seat of government was removed to Philadelphia. Mrs. Washington was sick when she started on the journey, and remained in Philadelphia until she was strong enough to go on to Mount Vernon.

The late Rev. Ashbel Green, for a long time President of Princeton College, and one of the early Chaplains of Congress, in speaking of the seat of government, said: “After a great deal of writing and talking and controversy about the permanent seat of Congress under the present Constitution, it was determined that Philadelphia should be honored with its presence for ten years, and afterward the permanent location should be in the city of Washington, where it now is. In the meantime, the Federal city was in building, and the Legislature of Pennsylvania voted a sum of money to build a house for the President, perhaps with some hope that this might help to keep the seat of the general government in the Capital; for Philadelphia was then considered as the Capital of the State. What was lately the University of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for the purpose. But as soon as General Washington saw its dimensions, and a good whilebefore it was finished, he let it be known that he would not occupy it, and should certainly not go to the expense of purchasing suitable furniture for such a dwelling; for it is to be understood, in those days of stern republicanism, nobody thought of Congress furnishing the President’s house; or if perchance such a thought did enter into some aristocratic head, it was too unpopular to be uttered. President Washington therefore rented a house of Mr. Robert Morris, in Market street, between Fifth and Sixth, on the south side, and furnished it handsomely but not gorgeously.”

From New York, by weary processes, the household furniture of individuals and government property were moved. General Washington superintended the preparation and embarkation of all his personal effects, deciding the time and manner in which every article was taken or sold, and attending to all with a scrupulous zeal which is surprising when we consider his public position. His letters to Mr. Lear are as characteristic of his private life as was his career as founder of the Republic. On Saturday afternoon, November the 28th, the President and his wife returned from Mount Vernon, and took up their residence in the house of Mr. Morris, which the corporation had obtained for them. They found Congressmen and public characters already assembled, in anticipation of a gay and brilliant season. Mrs. Washington held her drawing-rooms on Friday evening of each week; company assembled early and retired before half-past ten. It is related on oneoccasion, at a levee held in New York the first year of the administration, that she remarked, as the hands on the clock approached ten, “that her husband retired punctually at ten, and she followed very soon afterward.” A degree of stiffness and formality existed at those receptions that we of this age can scarcely understand, accustomed as we are to the familiarity and freedom of the present-day gatherings; but the imposing dignity of the Executive himself rebuked all attempts at equality, and the novelty of the position itself caused a general awkwardness. Unlike latter-day levees, the lady of the mansion always sat, and the guests were arranged in a circle round which the President passed, speaking kindly to each one. It is to be regretted that no descriptions exist of the appearance of Mrs. Washington at these fête evenings. Little or no attention, outside of social life, was paid to such items as how ladies dressed and what they appeared in, and letter-writing on this subject was not so universal as we of modern times have made it; hence there remains no source from whence to gather these little trifles which form part of every newspaper edition of the present day.

However, we do know that the President always had his hair powdered, and never offered his hand to any one at his public receptions.

“On the national fête days, the commencement of the levee was announced by the firing of a salute from a pair of twelve-pounders stationed not far distant fromthe Presidential mansion; and the ex-Commander-in-chief paid his former companions in arms the compliment to wear the old Continental uniform.”

The grandchildren of Mrs. Washington were her only companions during the President’s long absences in his office; and Mrs. Robert Morris was the most social visitor at the mansion. Several times mention is made of her presence at the side of Mrs. Washington during the presentations at the receptions. And at all the dinners by the republican Chief Magistrate, the venerable Robert Morris took precedence of every other guest, invariably conducting Mrs. Washington, and sitting at her right hand. At this, the meridian period of her life, Mrs. Washington’s personal appearance was, although somewhat portly in person, fresh and of an agreeable countenance. She had been a handsome woman thirty years before, when, on the 6th of January, 1759, she was married to Colonel Washington; and in an admirable picture of her by Woolaston, painted about the same time, is seen something of that pleasing grace which is said to have been her distinction. During these years of her married life, she had enjoyed ample opportunity to cultivate that elegance of manner for which she was conspicuous, and to develop those conversational powers which rendered her so attractive. Washington, ever quiet and reserved in manner, depended on her; and her tact and gentle womanly politeness relieved him from the irksome duties of hospitality when business called himelsewhere. His first levee, the Marchioness D’Yuro wrote to a friend in New York, was brilliant beyond anything that could be imagined. She adds: You never could have had such a drawing-room; and though there was a great deal of extravagance, there was so much of Philadelphia tact in everything that it must have been confessed the most delightful occasion of the kind ever known in this country.

Mrs. Washington at this time was fifty-eight years old; but her healthful, rational habits, and the ceaseless influence of the principles by which her life was habitually regulated, enabled her still to exhibit undiminished her characteristic activity, usefulness, and cheerfulness. From the “Recollections” of a daughter of Mrs. Binney, who resided opposite the President’s house, we have some interesting accounts. She says: “It was the General’s custom frequently, when the day was fine, to come out to walk attended by his secretaries, Mr. Lear and Major Jackson. He always crossed directly over from his own door to the sunny side of the street, and walked down.” She never observed them conversing, and often wondered and watched as a child to see if any of the party spoke, but never perceived that anything was said. He was always dressed in black, and all three wore cocked hats. “It was Mrs. Washington’s custom to return visits on the third day, and in calling on her mother, she would send a footman over, who would knock loudly and announce Mrs. Washington, who would then come over with Mr.Lear.” “Her manners were very easy, pleasant, and unceremonious, with the characteristics of other Virginia ladies.” An English manufacturer breakfasted with the President’s family on the 8th of June, 1794. “I confess,” he says, “I was struck with awe and veneration when I recollected that I was now in the presence of the great Washington, ‘the noble and wise benefactor of the world,’ as Mirabeau styles him. The President seemed very thoughtful, and was slow in delivering himself, which induced some to believe him reserved. But it was rather, I apprehend, the result of much reflection; for he had, to me, an appearance of affability and accommodation. He was at this time in his sixty-third year, but had very little the appearance of age, having been all his life so exceedingly temperate. Mrs. Washington herself made tea and coffee for us. On the table were two small plates of sliced tongue, and dry toast, bread and butter, but no broiled fish, as is the general custom here. She struck me as being something older than the President, though I understand they were both born the same year. She was extremely simple in her dress, and wore a very plain cap, with her gray hair turned up under it.”

Eight years of prosperity and progression blessed the administration of Washington, and now the hour of departure was drawing near. With feelings of pleasure, Mrs. Washington prepared for the long-desired return to her home on the Potomac; and when the dauntless robins began to sing and hardy daisiesto bloom, the family set out, accompanied by the son of General Lafayette. Once again the wife and grandmother assumed the duties congenial to her nature, and it was reasonable to hope that she might pass many years of tranquil, unalloyed happiness under her own vine and fig-tree. The old life was resumed, and the long-silent house echoed the voices of the young and happy. It was during this season of rest and quiet that Washington devoted much of his time to the planning and laying out of the city which bears his name. An account is given of his coming, on one occasion, to it, and when he reached the wharf the cannon pealed forth a welcome. Passing along the Georgetown road, he halted in front of the locality intended as a residence for the President, where workmen were then laying the foundation of the building. He was deeply interested in the welfare of the chosen seat of the government, and an amusing anecdote is related of his conference with David Burns, whose residence was on the ground south of the Presidential mansion, and was until recently standing. Washington alludes to him in one of his letters as the “obstinate Mr. Burns;” and it is related that, when the President was dwelling upon the advantage he would derive from the sale, the old man replied, “I suppose you think people here are going to take every grist that comes from you as pure grain; but what would you have been if you hadn’t married the widow Custis?”

Mount Vernon was constantly thronged with visitors;and to the “Correspondence of Washington,” which, during these last two years of his life, are very voluminous, we are indebted for many items of public and private interest. But a blow was in store for the contented wife which none suspected. A cold, taken after a long ride about the farm, produced fever and swelling of the throat, which, on the 14th of December, 1799, resulted in the death of the deeply loved husband. A wail of anguish went up from the nation as the direful news flew by each hut and hamlet; but in that hallowed room, forever consecrated, the bereaved woman who has lost her all sits calmly serene. She suspects that he is dead, for the doctor and Mr. Lear are gazing at each other in mute anguish; and rising from her low seat at the foot of his bed, she sees the limbs are composed and the breath gone. O agony! what is there so fearful to a clinging woman’s heart as to see the strong, loving arm that enfolded her cold and stiff forever? The cover is straightened as he fixed it, and his face is composed after the violent struggle; but what is this appearance of triumph to the desolate wife, who gasps for breath like one drowning as she totters to his side? Yet the sweet expression calms her; perhaps she is thinking of how he would have her do if his spirit could only speak. Whatever of inward peace receiving, there is a determined effort at control perceptible, and she is saying, “’Tis well; all is now over. I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass through.” One long look, as if her hungry soul was obtaining foodto feed on through all eternity, and she is assisted from the room. How full of holy memories must that chamber of death have been to her as she summoned courage to turn and drink in the last look! The great fireside, with the smouldering embers dying into ashes gray, the quaint old mantel, all covered with vials and appendages of a sick apartment, their easy-chairs side by side, one deserted forever, and upon the bed lay the form of her friend and companion. It was wrong to let her stand there and suffer so, but her awe-stricken appearance paralyzes the stoutest heart, and they only stand and wait. A pale, haggard look succeeds the fierce intensity of her gaze, and she wraps her shawl about her and turns forever from all she in that hour lost. Another room receives her; another fire is built for her; and in the endless watches of that black night she mastered the longings of her heart, and never more crossed the threshold of that chamber of her loved and lost. A sickening feeling of utter loneliness and desolation ushered in the early morn of the first day of her widowhood, but her resolve was made; and when her loved ones saw it pained her, they urged no more that she should go back to the old apartment she had occupied all her married life.

“Congress resolved, that a marble monument be erected by the United States, in the Capitol at the city of Washington, and that the family of George Washington be requested to permit his body to be deposited under it, and that the monument be so designed as tocommemorate the great events of his military and political life. And it further resolved,

“That there be a funeral procession from Congress Hall to the German Lutheran Church in honor of the memory of General George Washington, on Thursday, the 26th inst., and that an oration be prepared at the request of Congress, to be delivered before both Houses on that day, and that the President of the Senate and Speaker of the House of Representatives be desired to request one of the members of Congress to prepare and deliver the same. And it further resolved,

“That the President of the United States be requested to direct a copy of the resolutions to be transmitted to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the profound respect Congress will ever bear to her person and character; of their condolence on the late afflicting Dispensation of Providence, and entreating her assent to the interment of the remains of General George Washington in the manner expressed in the first resolution. And it further resolved,

“That the President of the United States be requested to issue a Proclamation notifying the People throughout the United States the recommendation contained in the third resolution.”

In reply to the above resolutions, which were transmitted by the President (John Adams) on the 23d Dec., 1799, Mrs. Washington says:

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