THE STORM
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 the Fowey, 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 by force. 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 proceeded to 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."
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 after it 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 temple
Sacred 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 left us 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.