It seems to have been hard for England to take her American colonies seriously. "The gentlemen of the opposition on the other side of the water" were regarded as inferiors, or, at best, troublesome children, to be dealt with accordingly, and taught to know—and keep—their places.
As early as 1766 a "Planter" on the banks of the Potomac addressed a letter to "The Merchants of London," and printed in the LondonPublic Ledger, in which he says: "The epithets of 'parent and child' have been so long applied to Great Britain and her colonies that individuals have adopted them, and we rarely see anything from your side of the water free from the authenticated style of a master to a schoolboy. He seems to say, 'We have, with infinite difficulty and fatigue, got you excused this time; pray be a good boy for the future; do what your papa and mamma bid you, and hasten to return them your most grateful acknowledgments for condescending to let you keep what is your own. If you are a naughty boy, and turn obstinate, and don't mind what your papa and mamma say to you,and pretend to judge for yourself when you are not arrived at years of discretion or capable of distinguishing between good and evil, then everybody will hate you; your parents and masters will be obliged to whip you severely, and their friends will blamethem.' See what you have brought this child to! If he had been well scourged at first for opposing your absolute will and pleasure and daring to think he had any such thing as property of his own, he would not have had the impudence to repeat the crime."
The first word of resistance to the enforcement of the Stamp Act came from the Northern Neck of Virginia. At Leeds, Richard Henry Lee, born in the same county and same year with George Washington, wrote a set of resolutions which were unanimously adopted by one hundred and fifteen of the most influential of his neighbors. No Virginian could be legally tried but by his peers. No Virginian (for were they not all British subjects?) could be taxed but by consent of a parliament in which he is represented by persons chosen by the people. "Any person using the stamp paper was an abandoned wretch, lost to virtue and public good!" They bound themselves to resist and punish such persons; and at the utmost risk of lives and fortunes to protect any and every citizen who should suffer persecution because of adherence to these resolutions.
This was in 1766. The defiant paper was signed by Mary Washington's three sons,—Samuel, Charles, and John Augustine,—also by Dr. Mortimer, her family physician. The Stamp Act was soon repealed, and the stir and excitement naturally subsided. Several years later a tax on tea, glass, and paper awakened it again. Even then there was no apprehension of danger. Nobody dreamed of final separation from England. The little cloud had been no bigger than a man's hand; it was resting on the distant horizon and would give trouble to nobody.
In 1766 the odious Stamp Act was repealed. In 1767 a new and more oppressive duty was laid on glass, paper, and tea. England, in the next year, drew back again and repealed this later tax, excepting only the tax on tea, "for," said Lord North, "a total repeal cannot be thought of until America lies prostrate at our feet."
Virginia retaliated by her non-importation resolutions, binding herself to import nothing from England until the obnoxious impost should be repealed. Every known article of luxury in living or dress was specified in her proscribed list, except—oh, wise and prudent burgesses!—"women's bonnets and hats, sewing silk and netting silk!"
The resolutions were signed by 170 Virginians, including George Washington, Spencer Ball, Samuel Eskridge, and the Lees, Tayloes, Corbins,Carters, and others of Mary Washington's family, friends, and neighbors in the Northern Neck. The firmest spirit pervaded the assembly. At its close, theGazettegoes on to say, "the whole company walked in procession from the Capitol to the Raleigh Tavern, where loyal and patriotic toasts were drunk—the King, the Queen and Royal family, the Governor of Virginia, the Duke of Richmond, Lord Chatham, Lord Camden, Lord Shelburne, British Liberty in America." Warming up after half a score of glasses, somebody gave, "May the Efforts of Virginia, joined with her Sister Colonies in the Cause of Liberty, be crowned with Success;" and then, warmer still, and jealously fearful of discourtesy to the government it had just defied (for a gentleman must be polite on his own soil) this toast was enthusiastically presented and applauded, "May the Rose flourish, the Thistle grow, and the Harp be tuned to the cause of American Liberty!"
A fine "schoolboy" this, loving liberty, loving fun, too much in love with happiness to bear malice!
It was not long before the schoolboy had a fine chance for a frolic. Ships laden with tea appeared in Boston harbor. A party disguised as American Indians boarded the ships and threw the cargo overboard. This was more than any indulgent parent could be expected to stand. The schoolboy must be shut up in a closet, and the key turned on him.The port of Boston was ordered by Act of Parliament to be closed!
And now Richard Henry Lee's "Committee of Correspondence and Communication with the Sister Colonies" came into active service. Of course the governor had dissolved the assembly that adopted it. He was too late! From the moment of its adoption expresses were flying from Massachusetts to Virginia, back and forth, with details of every step in the progress of events. William Lee wrote from London that "this inter-colonial consultation had struck a greater panic in the ministers than all that had taken place since the Stamp Act." The expresses travelled fast. Not for nothing had the Virginians bred fleet horses and trained fearless riders! It was said of those riders that "they must almost have flown," so promptly did the pulse in Virginia respond to the heart-throb in Massachusetts.
The news from Boston was overwhelming. Not only was the port to be closed as punishment—the thumb-screw drew still closer. Parliament passed an "Act whereby the People of Boston shall have no power of trying any Soldier or Person for committing any crime: all such offenders to be sent Home for legal Tryal." 14 Geo. III, c. 39.
The Virginia leaders were not surprised. The little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand in 1766, had never disappeared altogether. For ten yearsthe storm had been gathering. The sky was now overcast, the thunder was heard, the tempest was at hand. With a keen realization of all that resistance implied, some of them hesitated. Many of them were descendants of the royalists who had come over after the execution of Charles the First. They knew what revolution meant! The halter and the scaffold were still vivid in their traditions.
When the news came of the Act of Parliament closing the port, the House of Burgesses was in session. They ordained "a day of solemn fasting, humiliation and prayer, devoutly to implore the Divine interposition for averting a heavy calamity which threatens the civil rights of America."
Every man, one would think, has a right to humble himself, abstain from food, and pray God for help in time of trouble. Not so thought his Excellency, Governor Dunmore. Summoning the Honorable—the House of Burgesses—to his Council Chamber, he spoke to them thus: "Mr. Speaker and Gentlemen of the House of Burgesses, I have in my hand a paper published by order of your House conceived in such terms as reflect highly upon his Majesty and the Parliament of Great Britain, which makes it necessary for me to dissolve you, and you are dissolved accordingly."
So, then, the guardians of the colony were to be sent home to do their fasting and praying in private, and perchance repent or hold their tongues, at least.
But just here the unexpected happened. While the Virginians were growing more and more hostile to Lord Dunmore and treating him with ill-disguised contempt, his family arrived at Williamsburg,—the Right Honorable, the Countess of Dunmore, Lord Fincastle, and the Ladies Catherine, Augusta, and Susan Murray.
DunmoreLord Dunmore.
Lord Dunmore.
Lord Dunmore.
Here was a pretty state of things,—distinguished strangers arriving on Virginia soil and Virginia on the eve of a political earthquake. However, there was but one way out of the difficulty,—hospitality and hostility both claiming the hour, hostility must step aside for a while. There was time for all things. There must be an illumination of course; and if the ladies smiled as they entered Williamsburg in their chariot drawn by six white horses, they must receive acclamations in return.
They did smile. They made a most agreeable impression. TheVirginia Gazettedeclared next day that the arrival of the countess gave inexpressible pleasure, that she was a very elegant woman, thather daughters were "fine, sprightly girls," and that "goodness of heart flashed from them in every look."
Before they turned into the great palace gates they had won all hearts. They were the guests of the colony. Already a herald had published a Court Etiquette, whose leaflets were in the hands of the pretty Jacqueline and Ambler girls. The finishing touch of courtly grace and usage was to be given to the high-born Virginia beauties.
True, there was small time now to study court etiquette, but a little delay could not matter much. Whether it did or no, hospitality was the prime, sacred, delightful duty of the hour.
Accordingly, the gentlemen of the House of Burgesses caused theGazetteto announce a "Ball at the Capital to Welcome Lady Dunmore and her Family to Virginia." The Apollo, which still echoed Henry's eloquence and Washington's appeal for Boston, was hastily made ready; and the men who had been most bitter in the morning in their denunciation of the Port Bill bowed low in the evening to the Countess of Dunmore, and led her and her daughters with grave courtesy through the stately figures of the minuet.
Presently it is all over. The last note dies upon the strings, the lights burn low in the coming dawn, parting words are whispered,—"adieu" not "au revoir,"—and the hands that had touched withrefined finger-tips harden themselves for the gauntlet and the sword. No matter, now her ladyship has been suitably welcomed, how soon she runs away with her pretty daughters from the guns and finds refuge on theFowey! The sooner the better, in fact.
But before that could happen Lady Dunmore had time to become immensely popular in Williamsburg. TheGazettewas forever printing verses in her praise. The burgesses were welcomed to the handsome "palace" of their governor,—the palace of which they were so proud, with its "imposing cupola, lit at night on public occasions, its ample green lawn in front, its artificial lakes, gardens and terraces." Lady Dunmore gave an afternoon reception on Queen Charlotte's birthday when her youngest child was christenedVirginiain compliment to the Old Dominion. Everybody was invited at night to join the royal party in a splendid ball in honor of the Queen's birthday.
"The Mimic Court at Williamsburg was exerting all its powers to please, but the patriots were not to be turned aside." They could draw the velvet glove over the gauntlet to pleasure a lady, but the gauntlet was there, nevertheless, and the gauntlet was of steel.
We are impressed in reading of all this, with the punctilious etiquette of Williamsburg society which forbade the intrusion of politics into the social life.Lord Dunmore had been regarded with suspicion and distrust from the moment of his arrival in 1772. He was perfectly aware of the feeling of the First Assembly which met under his administration. Colonel Washington was a member of that assembly, and had been present—and active—at the consultations on public affairs held in the old Raleigh tavern. Yet, but for the death of Miss Custis, he would have been Dunmore's companion when he journeyed to Western Virginia to purchase land.
He dined with Lord Dunmore a few days before the couriers brought news of the Act of Parliament closing the port at Boston. Nobody was more resolute than he in denunciation of that act, and in support of the resolutions of "sympathy for our distressed fellow-subjects of Boston." At that moment his pocket held an accepted invitation to dine with the governor. He did so dine, spent the evening with him, probably the night, too, for he breakfasted with him the next day at his farm. Two of Lord Dunmore's sons were students at William and Mary College. To all outward appearance everything was going well and smoothly among good friends and neighbors.
NomineeRobert Carter of Nomini Hall.
Robert Carter of Nomini Hall.
Robert Carter of Nomini Hall.
The fast was appointed for the first day of June, 1774. The port was to be closed on the fourth. On that day Washington wrote in his diary, "Fasted all day and went to Church." George Mason, of"Gunston Hall," in the Northern Neck wrote home, "Please tell my dear little family that I desire my three eldest sons and my two eldest daughters may attend church in mourning." His friend and neighbor, Robert Carter, ordereddifferently. "No one must go from hence to church or observe this fast at all." Not yet were all the colonists prepared to follow Washington, Jefferson, Henry, Mason, and Lee in defiance to the British Crown!
The fast was generally observed. The governor, it appears, had no power to prevent it. The time had not yet come when Virginia patriots, to avoid his interference, must hold their conferences in old St. John's Church at Richmond. At Williamsburg a sermon was preached from the text, "Help, Lord! for the godly man ceaseth, for the faithful fail from among the children of men."
The tea was sealed up and destroyed, and money and provisions ordered to be sent to Boston. The counties were canvassed for these, and they were immediately forwarded.
The Virginia women entered with enthusiasm into all schemes for sending help to their "distressed fellow-subjects in Boston," and applauded Colonel Washington when he declared that "he was ready to raise one thousand men, subsist them at his own expense and march at their head to Massachusetts."
The colonial dames packed away in lavender-scented chests all their imported finery, their "quilts" and brocades, and clothed themselves in homespun or in mourning, destroying or sealing up their precious stock of tea, and regarding with unfriendly eyes a certain dame who continued toindulge in the proscribed luxury. It seems hard, poor lady, that she should come down in history as the only one who thus transgressed, "who continued to sip her tea in her closet after it was banished from every table," and that even her name and lineage should be given by an irreverent historian! This was no other than Kate Spotswood, she of the fawn and blue satin gown and the silver hair, now Mrs. Bernard Moore!
Even the master of "Nomini Hall" proscribed the tea long before he ceased, for hedidcease at last, to toast "his Gracious Majesty, the King." "Something," says our old friend, the tutor, "in our palace this Evening very merry happened. Mrs. Carter made a dish of Tea! At Coffee she sent me a dish—I and the Colonel both ignorant. He smelt, sipt, look'd! At last with great gravity he asks, 'What's this?' 'Do you ask, Sir?' 'Poh!' and out he throws it,splash!a sacrifice to Vulcan."
It seems the tea was restored to favor, at least in the army, only three years later. The colonists were then expressing themselves in sterner language! An island was found somewhere near headquarters in June, 1778. Here the officers invited their friends in the afternoon to drink tea, and because the island was so beautiful and enchanting they honored it with the name of "Paphos." There "Lady Stirling, Lady Kilty, and Miss Brown, met his Excellency's lady, an agreeable, well-disposed,excellent woman. The prospect of an alliance in Europe had cheered every heart, and cheerfulness enlightened every countenance." Was it the "alliance" or the dearly loved beverage of which they had been so long deprived? Thenceforward and until to-day the afternoon tea has been an institution, linked with the history of our country. It came back on the island of Paphos, and it came to stay! We hear of it once again in the annals of the Revolution. The Marquis de Chastellux tells us of another afternoon tea! "I left Mr. Samuel Adams with regret, and terminated my day by a visit to Colonel Bland. He is a tall, handsome man who has been a good soldier, but at present serves his country and serves it well in Congress. I was invited to drink tea, that is, attend a sort of Assembly: pretty much like theconversazioniof Italy; for tea here is the substitute for therinfresca. Mr. Arthur Lee, M. de La Fayette, M. de Noualles, M. de Dames, etc: were of the party." In those days men could be found at an afternoon tea!
The stirring events which marked every month in the next two years are known to every reader of American history: the steady injustice and oppression of the governor, his attempt to disarm the colonists by removing the powder of the colony from "The old Powder-horn," the quaint old building at Williamsburg, now cherished by the association for the preservation of Virginia antiquities, the arming of the Virginians headed by Patrick Henry to reclaim it, the flight of poor Lady Dunmore and her pretty daughters to the protecting guns of theFowey, finally, the flight of the governor himself, followed by the curses of the people,—how he trained his guns on Norfolk, giving Virginia her first experience of the horrors of war, how he hung about the coast to the terror of the country people, and finally announced his intention of sailing up the Potomac and capturing Mrs. Washington!
When the powder was stolen by Governor Dunmore, seven hundred citizens, calling themselves the Friends of Liberty, armed and met in Fredericksburg, ready to march to Williamsburg, and reclaim it byforce. They were led by Hugh Mercer, Mary Washington's friend and neighbor. George Washington and George Mason prevailed upon them to wait until Dunmore made restitution.
These were days of fearful trial to Mary Washington. Hitherto, on her quiet farm on the banks of the Rappahannock, she had known little of all the stir and excitement. Of the little that she heard she disapproved. She was a loyal subject of the king and a devoted churchwoman. All her early prejudices, traditions, ideas of duty, close ties of kindred, bound her to the mother country and the Church of England. That these should be resisted by her own family, her four sons, and the Mercers, Travers, and Gregorys, was an overwhelming disaster, to which she found it hard to be resigned.
When war was declared and she learned that her son was to lead the rebellious army, her anguish was expressed in the most vehement language. "Grandma Knox" strove in vain to console her. "Oh, is there to be more fighting, more bloodshed? Surely it will all end in the halter," exclaimed the devoted mother. So bitter were her feelings at this moment, that when General Washington rode to Fredericksburg to induce her to remove into the town, he was doubtful in what manner she would receive him. He thought it prudent to pause at the little inn, "The Indian Queen," and reconnoitre.
That a member of the family should "put up at a tavern" was so tremendous an event that no one dared mention it to his mother. Observing an air of mystery in the faces of her servants, she demanded an explanation. "Tell George to come home instantly—instantly!" she exclaimed; and straining him to her bosom, she again commended him to God, and again gave him, with her blessing, to his country.
On the 15th of June, 1775, he was elected commander-in-chief of the American forces, and crossed the threshold of his mother's home, and his own beloved Mount Vernon, on the right bank of the Potomac, to return no more until the war should end. He was in his saddle, on his way to Boston on horseback, when he was met by the news of the battle of Bunker Hill. On the second of July he entered Boston amid the acclamations of the people and the thunder of cannon, and the next day assumed command of the American forces.
The anguish of his mother was shared by the wife, left alone at Mount Vernon. She wrote to a relative who censured the folly of Washington's position: "I foresee consequences, dark days, domestic happiness suspended, eternal separation on earth possible. But my mind is made up. My heart is in the cause. George is right; he is always right!"
"Escorted," says Washington Irving, "by a troop of light-horse, and a cavalcade of citizens, he proceededto the headquarters provided for him at Cambridge, three miles distant. As he entered the confines of his camp, the shouts of the multitude and the thundering of artillery, gave note to the enemy beleaguered in Boston of his arrival."
AbigailAbigail Adams.
Abigail Adams.
Abigail Adams.
He was already the idol of the hour! As he rode along the lines, all travel-soiled and dusty, he found favor in every heart. The soldiers adored him—the women as well. The elegant and accomplished wife of John Adams, destined to be the first American lady to make her courtesy to King George afterit was all over, wrote to her husband: "Dignity, ease and complacency, the gentleman and the soldier, look agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks every line and feature of his face. Those lines of Dryden instantly occurred to me:—
"'Mark his majestic fabric! He's a templeSacred by birth and built by hands divine;His soul's the Deity that lodges there;Nor is the pile unworthy of the God!'"
What said the "Godlike" hero to all this? Simply that he trusted that Divine Providence, which wisely orders the affairs of men, would enable him to discharge his duty with fidelity and success. A year later he wrote, "When I took command of the army I abhorred the idea of independence, but I am now fully satisfied that nothing else will save us."
Dunmore was still in the Virginia waters. He did not leave until the following year, in fact, his burning of Norfolk occurred six months after General Washington left Virginia. It was constantly expected that he would appear upon the Rappahannock and Potomac rivers; and Colonel George Mason, having moved his own family to a place of safety, recommended to Mrs. Martha Washington, who was at Mount Vernon, to leave the neighborhood also. He wrote to General Washington a little later: "Dunmore has come and gone, and leftus untouched except by some alarms. I sent my family many miles back into the country, and advised Mrs. Washington to do likewise as a prudential movement. At first she said, 'No, I will not desert my post,' but she finally did so with reluctance, rode only a few miles, and, plucky little woman as she is, stayed away only one night." During the summer of 1776, Dunmore started again to ascend the Potomac to lay waste "Gunston Hall" and Mount Vernon and capture Mrs. Washington. The county militia harassed him on his way, but he probably would have achieved his purpose but for a dreadful storm that threatened the safety of the ship. But when thunder and storm reached him through the cannon-balls of Andrew Lewis, one of which passed through his flag-ship and smashed his china, "Good God!" said Lord Dunmore, "has it come to this?" and weighing anchor, he betook himself to England, having injured as far as possible the colony he was commissioned to protect.
Mary Washington was kept in a state of perpetual anxiety and alarm. She was left unprotected by her nearest friends and relatives. Her son was gone, returning for no brief visits to his old home. Her grandson, George Lewis, was on his uncle's staff. Her sons were enlisted, all her grandsons. The Spotswood boys were at the front. Her good neighbor, Hugh Mercer, was a general in the army; her near relative, Colonel Burgess Ball, had raised and equipped a regiment, and was maintaining it at his own expense. "All Europe was amazed when out of the forests and fields of the remote colonies of the Atlantic coast, from north to south, there stepped forth at the drum beat of Revolution heroes, scholars, statesmen, soldiers, and chieftains who overcame its master spirits in debate and foiled its ablest commanders in the field of combat."
Others of her neighbors and relations were already at the front. In many houses father and sons had gone; in almost every home the first-born was a soldier. She had only with her the women of herkindred and the good and faithful Dr. Charles Mortimer,—the loyal American though English born,—the able, generous physician. At his own expense he equipped and maintained a hospital in which Mary Washington and his little Maria probably felt a deep and common interest.
Her old age was not to be the ideal age so passionately desired by the old, of quiet serenity, "honor, obedience, and troops of friends." The latter she had, with the added pang of keen anxiety for their safety and welfare. She was called upon to surrender all she held sacred or dear,—her king, her church, her glorious son, her kindred, her loved country home. She gave up all resignedly, uncomplainingly.
It was after this triumph over her prejudices, this complete surrender to conviction of duty that her character blossomed into perfect beauty. A great calmness possessed her soul and shone in her face, a dignified resignation differing altogether from dumb despair.
While her son was leading the troops of his country she was busily engaged in the industries of domestic life,—sorting the fleece and mingling it with shredded silk to make long hose for her son, the general; weaving substantial fabrics in the great cumbrous looms; learning cunning secrets of herbs and leaves to dye the cloth for garments; preparing balsams and lotions for the sick and needy. Her hands were never idle. Gathering her apron into aspacious pocket, she walked about with the woollen knitting for her son's soldiers. She became, it is true, somewhat more silent, more reserved. The lines of the face lost all hint of humor. She was too sad for that, but never peevish or complaining. Descendants of her old neighbors acknowledged that "Mrs. Washington was somewhat stern," but add that she and her daughter, Mrs. Lewis, possessed withal a lofty graciousness of manner peculiarly their own. General Washington had this manner, commanding deference and confidence, and forbidding familiarity or the smallest liberty; although it is certain that neither he nor his mother were conscious of the impression made upon others.
Her daughter, Betty Lewis, lived at "Kenmore," the elegant mansion near Fredericksburg, and entreated her to come to her "to be taken care of," but she said, "My wants are few in this life, and I feel perfectly competent to take care of myself." She elected a home of her own very near "Kenmore," preferring to be independent. Thence she was driven every day by "old Stephen" in her phaeton to her farm across the river, whence she brought seeds and cuttings for her town garden and a jug of water from the spring out of which her husband and children had drunk. Old Stephen witnessed with glee her method of dealing with her overseer. The latter ventured one day to depart from her instructions, and she called him to account.
"Madam," said the agent, "in my judgment the work has been done to better advantage than if I had followed your instructions."
"And pray, sir, who gave you the right to exercise any judgment in the matter?" she asked; "I command you, sir! There is nothing left for you but to obey."
Fredericksburg was in the direct line of communication between Williamsburg and the headquarters of the army. Couriers were perpetually passing to and fro, and many were the respectful letters "honored madam" received from the great commander.
With the coming of these couriers came repeated tidings of loss and defeat. She heard about the battle of Long Island, the long days and nights in the saddle; of the defeat at White Plains; of how the militia quitted and went home; of the Princeton victory, where her loved neighbor, Hugh Mercer, died in her grandson's arms; of the heavy loss at Brandywine and Germantown, where her near neighbor, the son of plucky John Spotswood, fell dangerously wounded into the hands of the enemy; of the misery at Valley Forge; of Howe's occupation of Philadelphia; of General Gates's great victory at Saratoga—perhaps of the cabal against her son, when the victorious general was preferred by some to him. Perhaps her son may have written, or some of Morgan's borderers written to their friends, of their march from the Shenandoah to Boston with"Liberty or Death" embroidered in white letters on their hunting-shirts; how General Washington had met them as he was riding along his lines; how Morgan had saluted with the words, "From the right bank of the Potomac, General!" how the great commander had leaped from his horse, and with tears in his eyes shook hands with each one of them.
"The night was dark and he was far from home!"
Or, perhaps, those watching, waiting women on the Rappahannock heard of how the Virginian, George Rogers Clarke, had begged powder and men, and gone out to shut and guard the back door of the country; how they had waded in freezing water, fasting five days and nights, holding their muskets above their heads as they struggled on; how, finally, ready as they were to give up, a little drummer-boy had mounted the shoulders of a tall soldier, and beat the vigorous "Charge," rallying and inspiring their fainting spirits. Or, it may be, that some messenger among the fleet couriers had come from Wheeling, Virginia, and could tell of Elizabeth Zane, the brave young girl, who volunteered to cross a plain under Indian fire, and bring a keg of powder from a house in town to save the stockade in which her people were hiding; how she ran across the plain, found and fetched the powder, and saved the day.
"These noble legends," says Esten Cooke, "arethe true glories of American history; the race lives in them and is best illustrated by them. It was a very great race, and faced peril without shrinking, down to the very boys and girls; and what the long years of the future will remember is this heroic phase, not the treaties and protocols of American history." It was thespiritbehind our little army that compelled events and carried it triumphantly to the glorious result.
It is said that Mary Washington never tolerated an expression of complaint or despair during these trying times. She would rebuke it by saying, "The mothers and wives of brave men must be brave women." Mr. Custis says that, "Directly in the way of the news, as it passed from North to South, one courier would bring intelligence of success to our arms; another, 'swiftly coursing at his heels,' the saddening reverse of disaster and defeat. While thus ebbed and flowed the fortunes of our cause, the mother, trusting to the wisdom and protection of Divine Providence, preserved the even tenor of her life, affording an example to those matrons whose sons were alike engaged in the arduous contest; and showing that unavailing anxieties, however belonging to nature, were unworthy of mothers whose sons were combating for the inestimable rights of man and the freedom and happiness of the world.
"During the war the mother set a most valuable example in the management of her domestic concerns,carrying her own keys, bustling in her household affairs, providing for her family, and living and moving in all the pride of independence. She was not actuated by that ambition for show which pervades lesser minds; and the peculiar plainness and dignity of her manners became in no wise altered, when the sun of glory arose upon her house. There are some of the aged inhabitants of Fredericksburg who well remember the matron as seated in an old-fashioned open chaise; she was in the habit of visiting, almost daily, her little farm in the vicinity of the town. When there she would ride about her fields, giving her orders, and seeing that they were obeyed.
"Hers was a familiar form in Fredericksburg during the Revolution, and its people showed her every respect as she walked the streets leaning on her cane. Devout and worshipful she appeared every Sabbath at church at the appointed hour; and while the armies under her son were struggling for our freedom, the knitting needles were busily plied, and from her home went forth her modest contributions of supplies for him and his soldiers."
Her biographers love to dwell upon her preternatural serenity. This serenity did not serve for dark hours only. She was not surprised when the tide turned, and the waves of triumph were borne to her feet. When her neighbors thronged her with plaudits and praise of her noble son—their idoland hers—she restrained their extravagant words, saying quietly: "George seems to have deserved well of his country, but we must not praise him too much. George has not forgotten his duty!"
When the news reached Fredericksburg of the victories of Trenton and Princeton (in that ten days' campaign which Frederick the Great called the most brilliant in the annals of war) friends gathered around her with congratulations upon the great achievements of her son. She received them with calmness, observed that it was most pleasurable news, and that George appeared to have deserved well of his country for such signal services, and continued, in reply to the congratulating patriots (most of whom held letters in their hands, from which they read extracts), "but, my good sirs, here is too much flattery—still George will not forget the lessons I early taught him; he will not forget himself, though he is the subject of so much praise."
Among the traditions which still linger around Fredericksburg is one illustrating her perfect calmness, trust, and self-control. George Kiger, the courier, having at a time of great anxiety ridden hard to deliver a packet to her from headquarters, was dismayed to see her drop it unread into one of her unfathomable pockets, simply remarking, "It is all right—I am well assured of that." Bursting with curiosity, and mindful of the crowd which had assembled at her gate to hear the news, Kiger suggested:"There may have been a battle. The neighbors would like to know." Thereupon she fished up the packet, glanced over it, and announced, "There has been a victory!" adding, in the fulness of her heart, "George generally carries through whatever he undertakes."
In relating this we are reminded of the despatch once handed to General Washington while he was sitting for his portrait. He read it apparently unmoved and in silence. It announced the surrender of Burgoyne's army!
As the long years passed heavily away she had need of more than her own strong nature to sustain her. She must seek for strength not her own. "She was always pious," says Mr. Custis, "but in her latter days her devotions were performed in private. She was in the habit of repairing every day to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling, where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, she communed with her Creator, in humiliation and prayer."
This favorite resort of hers, sometimes called "Oratory Rock," was a spot on Colonel Lewis's estate, sheltered by climbing vines from observation. Oratory Rock was a knoll on the "Kenmore" grounds which during her life overlooked the Rappahannock. The river has since forsaken its bed there, and flows in another channel. It was to this spot, made lovely by shade trees and flowing vines, thatshe repaired daily for meditation and prayer, returning home soothed and strengthened. She often expressed her gratitude for these serene hours, and desired that she might be buried upon the spot, where she had received such consolation.
oratoryOratory Rock.
Oratory Rock.
Oratory Rock.
And who can tell what heavenly messengers visited this great spirit and ministered unto her? At her feet flowed the Rappahannock, over which her son when a lad had thrown a stone. She could remember how his heart had swelled with pride,—that heart now breaking at the falling away of friends, the desertion of soldiers, the disasters on the Hudsonand Long Island. Who can doubt that the tears of the great commander fell upon his mother's heart! Her life had been one of anxiety, trouble, and strife. It was now almost over! She knew of the end, only that for her it was near! It was then that whispered words may have floated on the mists of the gathering twilight: "In the world ye shall have tribulations! Fear not! I have overcome the world."
Whenever the women of the Revolution appear upon the pages of history or romance they are invested with extraordinary virtues. Our traditions are only of maidens who forsook morning lessons on the harpsichord, and afternoon tea, and embroidery, to knit stockings and make plain garments; of Abigail Adams, who "sought wool and flax and worked willingly with her own hands," of Lady Washington, dignified and domestic, presenting gloves of her own knitting, finished and unfinished, as souvenirs of morning visits, of the angelic ministrations of the women of Massachusetts and New Jersey. "Fairer always are the old moons of Villon, than the moons of to-day!" Chesterfield says human nature is the same all the world over. Woman nature assuredly is!
Letter-writing in the eighteenth century was difficult; the transmission of letters after they were written uncertain. One letter received from London was addressed in the fullest faith of finding its destination to "Major George Washington, Atthe Falls of the Rappahannockor elsewhere in Virginia." Of course, the fate of these letters was doubtful. They were liable to be lost or forgotten. They might be intercepted by the enemy. Hence the stilted style of many of the Revolutionary letters, the liberal use of initials to indicate proper names, the guarded hints, obscure innuendoes and vague allusions which characterize them. Letters were written on coarse paper, the sheet folded over to leave space for the address, tied across with a string, and sealed with wax or a small red wafer. There were no envelopes, no blotting-paper, no pens except those of home manufacture from the goose-quill. Two months was a reasonable length of time to allow for the delivery of letters. To the captain of some passing sloop they were generally confided, or to the pocket of some friend journeying at leisure from neighborhood to neighborhood. When received they were treasured, and packed away in old chests or the secret drawers of old secretaries, thence to arise to accuse or defend, or entertain the curious in future generations.
A New York paper, published about seventy years ago, tells the history of some of these old letters, as follows:[14]"In one of the thirty apartments of the old colonial home of the Bland family, 'Cawsons,' a large party were assembled at dinner with the master of the house, a bachelor, and not a memberof the Bland family, when a servant entered and informed him that the house was on fire!
"He received the information with great coolness and composure, ordered that the fire should be extinguished, and requested his guests not to disturb themselves, that 'the servants would attend to it.'
"For a time the wine continued to circulate, and it appears that the fire did also, for with less ceremony than their host it soon drove the party out of doors. In the confusion books and papers were thrust into boxes and barrels, or into anything that presented itself, and carried off into a neighboring barn.
"The person who owned the place at the time of the fire has been dead many years, and the accidental discovery, very recently, of the papers was made in the following manner. A gentleman who had lived on an adjoining farm was called upon one morning by a poor negro who requested him to purchase a basket of eggs. The basket was lined with manuscripts which proved upon closer inspection to be original letters of importance from General Washington, the Marquis La Fayette and others, addressed to Colonel Theodoric Bland, and written during the Revolution."
There was one letter, alas! written to the wife of a Virginia officer whom we should be loth to judge by her friends. It throws a sinister light upon one phase of the social life in the time of Mary Washington,and shows us women who could trifle, dress, dance, and flirt with the enemies of their country in the darkest hour of their country's peril, fiddling when Rome was burning.
HoweSir William Howe.
Sir William Howe.
Sir William Howe.
Sir William Howe entered Philadelphia in the autumn of 1777, and found "many to welcome him."[15]Philadelphia was a charming old town with substantial colonial mansions surrounded by grounds of great beauty. September roses were bloomingin those old-fashioned yards and gardens, and the gracious young beauties were quite willing to gather them for the British officers. The officers, when winter set in, were glad to give them all back in ball and concert, play and assembly. It was a light-hearted, happy time! Why should they not enjoy it? Why, indeed! Nobody would bleed the more freely or starve or freeze to death the sooner!
One of the letters in the egg-basket was written by a lady who elected to live in Philadelphia during the occupation of that city by Sir William Howe. It was addressed to the wife of an officer at the front. We cannot profane our fair, patriotic pages, but the original is accentuated by oaths quite worthy of Queen Bess. The ladies mentioned in the letter were wives and daughters of officers in the field. The writer tells some very, very questionable gossip to her "dear Patsy," and then proceeds: ... "You see I am obeying your commands and writing a folio—My God! If this should fall into your husband's hands I should die! for heaven's sake, my dear Patsy, don't expose me to him. Your own saucy epistle leads me into this scrape. Mrs. Beekman is still in the City. They were very ungenteelly treated, being turned out of their house to accommodate Lord Howe; they were then moved into the street where my mother lives. Mr. & Mrs. G. are at their house in Chestnut Street. Notwithstanding the gratification of their wisheswas completed in the arrival of the British Army, they received the usual disappointment. Miss Roche did not marry 'S'—by all accounts he is a vile fellow—so tell M. he may have hopes. Miss —— is not shackled, tho' she has many bleeding hearts at her feet." (The owners of the bleeding hearts were British officers.) "Her vivacity makes her admired, though saucy! One of her saucybon motsI cannot omit. Sir William Howe, in a large company one evening, snatched a piece of narrow riband from her the moment she entered the ball room." (Here, alas, a covetous rat made abonne boucheof thebon mot—perhaps it is as well!) "Little Poll Redmond still continues as violent a patriot as ever, and sings 'War and Washington' and 'Burgoyne's Defeat' for the British officers, and with a particular emphasis and saucy countenance warbles forth 'Cooped up in a Town.' You have no idea of the gay winter here; and likewise the censure thrown on the poor girls for not scorning these pleasures. You, my friend, have liberality of sentiment and can make proper allowance for young people deprived of the gaieties and amusements of life; with Plays, concerts, Balls, Assemblies in rotation courting their presence. Politics is never introduced. The Whig ladies are treated with the same politeness as the Tory ladies. I myself have been prevailed on to partake of the amusements, and I am, in raillery, styled 'rebel,' and allthe Whig news is kept from me. I had the 'draught of the bill' and Lord North's letter. I have met a great Hessian Yager Colonel," etc., through endless gossip of which the above is the only admissible sample!
It is unpleasant to observe that this letter was written in the winter of 1777-1778—the winter that young Bartholomew Yates, a lieutenant in a Virginia regiment, fell into the hands of the enemy, and died in captivity from woundsinflicted, after his surrender, by the Hessians—possibly at the order of my lady's "great Hessian Yager Colonel," who was, according to her narrative, admitted to her society and confiding to her the secrets of the enemy. At that moment many American prisoners,—among them young John Spotswood,—desperately wounded, were in Philadelphia inhumanly treated, dying from wanton neglect; and General Washington indignantly threatening retaliation in his letters to Sir William Howe. "The English officers were received in the best society with more than toleration, and they soon became extremely popular. The winter was long remembered in Philadelphia for its gayety and its charm. There were no signs of that genuine dislike which had been abundantly displayed in Boston." It appears the ladies of Philadelphia ignored the well-known character of Sir William Howe. Also that the courtly Sir William, when he found a house that suited him,knew how to make the terms for it.[16]He took the mansion of a rich old loyalist Quaker, John Pemberton (in the absence of the latter), and used also the elegant carriage of the Quaker for his parties of pleasure. When the latter returned home he found his property much injured, and claimed indemnity. Sir William curtly refused. "Thee had better take care!" said John Pemberton. "Thee has done great damage to my house, and thee has suffered thy wicked women to ride in my carriage, and my wife will not use it since. Thee must pay me for the injury or I will go to thy master" (the King) "and lay my complaint before him."
Sir William did take care! He paid the money.
That most unfortunate of men, Major André, devised in honor of Sir William Howe the splendid festival of the Mischianza during the occupation of Philadelphia. Our gay correspondent received an invitation with "the Howe arms and mottovive vale. The device was a setting sun with 'He shines as he sets, to rise again.' We went to Pool's bridge in carriages—thence boats, barges and galleys bore us to ships of the fleet—all gay with the colors of all nations and every country, and amid them, waving with grace and elegance, our ownStars and Stripes!" "The entertainment comprised a regatta, a ball, and a great display of fireworks, with innumerable emblems and exhibitions of loyaltyto England. It brought together one of the most brilliant assemblages of the youth, beauty and fashion of Philadelphia, and it was long remembered that Major André was most prominent in organizing the entertainment, and that the most prominent of the Philadelphia beauties who adorned it was Miss Shippen, soon after to become the wife of Benedict Arnold."