Life and Times of Washington, Volume 2 / Revised, Enlarged, and Enriched

by John Frederick Schroeder; Benson John Lossing

"The President's mansion was so limited in accommodation that three of the secretaries were compelled to occupy one room—Humphreys, Lewis, and Nelson. Humphreys, aide-de-camp to the Commander-in-Chief at Yorktown, was a most estimable man, and at the same time a poet. About this period he was composing his 'Widow of Malabac.' Lewis and Nelson, both young men, were content, after the labors of the day, to enjoy a good night's repose. But this was often denied them, for Humphreys, when in the vein, would rise from his bed at any hour, and, with stentorian voice, recite his verses. The young men, roused from their slumbers, and rubbing their eyes, beheld a great burly figure, 'en chemise,' striding across the floor, reciting, with great emphasis, particular passages from his poems, and calling on his room-mates for their approbation. Having, in this way, for a considerable time, 'murdered the sleep' of his associates, Humphreys, at length, wearied by his exertions, would sink upon his pillow in a kind of dreamy languor. So sadly were the young secretaries annoyed by the frequent outbursts of the poet's imagination that it was remarked of them by their friends, that, from 1789 to the end of their lives, neither Robert Lewis nor Thomas Nelson was ever known to evince the slightest taste for poetry."

Washington had hardly recovered from the severe attack of illness above referred to, when he heard of the death of his mother, who died on the 25th of August, 1789. He had paid her a visit just before leaving Mount Vernon for the seat of government. She was then residing at Fredericksburg, and was gradually sinking under a disease which was evidently mortal; and Washington, fully aware that he was seeing her for the last time, was much affected at the interview. She also felt that they were parting to meet no more in this world. "But she bade him go, with Heaven's blessing and her own, to fulfill the high destinies to which he had been called."

The mother of Washington was, in many respects, a remarkable woman. Her influence over her son in early life we have already had occasion to notice. In her last days she presents a true picture of matronly dignity. Mr. Custis states that she was continually visited and solaced, in the retirement of her declining years, by her children and numerous grandchildren. Her daughter, Mrs. Lewis, repeatedly and earnestly solicited her to remove to her house and there pass the remainder of her days. Her son pressingly entreated her that she would make Mount Vernon the home of her age. But the matron's answer was: "I thank you for your affectionate and dutiful offers, but my wants are few in this world and I feel perfectly competent to take care of myself." To the proposition of her son-in-law, Colonel Lewis, to relieve her by taking the direction of her concerns, she replied. "Do you, Fielding, keep my books in order, for your eyesight is better than mine; but leave the executive management to me." Such were the energy and independence she preserved to an age beyond that usually allotted to mortals, and till within three years of her death, when the disease under which she suffered (cancer of the breast) prevented exertion.

Her meeting with Washington, after the victory which decided the fortune of America, illustrates her character too strikingly to be omitted: "After an absence of nearly seven years it was, at length, on the return of the combined armies from Yorktown, permitted to the mother to see and embrace her illustrious son. So soon as he had dismounted, in the midst of a numerous and brilliant suite, he sent to apprise her of his arrival and to know when it would be her pleasure to receive him. And now, mark the force of early education and habits, and the superiority of the Spartan over the Persian schools, in this interview of the great Washington with his admirable parent and instructor. No pageantry of war proclaimed his coming—no trumpets sounded—no banners waved. Alone, and on foot, the Marshal of France, the General-in-Chief of the combined armies of France and America, the deliverer of his country, the hero of the age, repaired to pay his humble duty to her whom he venerated as the author of his being, the founder of his fortune and his fame. Full well he knew that the matron was made of sterner stuff than to be moved by all the pride that glory ever gave or by all the "pomp and circumstance" of power. The lady was alone—her aged hands employed in the works of domestic industry—when the good news was announced, and it was further told that the victor chief was in waiting at the threshold. She welcomed him with a warm embrace, and by the well-remembered and endearing names of his childhood. Inquiring as to his health, she remarked the lines which mighty cares and many trials had made on his manly countenance, spoke much of old times and old friends, but of his glory, not one word!

"Meantime, in the village of Fredericksburg, all was joy and revelry. The town was crowded with the officers of the French and American armies, and with gentlemen from all the country around, who hastened to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis. The citizens made arrangements for a splendid ball to which the mother of Washington was specially invited. She observed that although her dancing days were pretty well over she should feel happy in contributing to the general festivity, and consented to attend.

"The foreign officers were anxious to see the mother of their chief. They had heard indistinct rumors respecting her remarkable life and character, but, forming their judgment from European examples, they were prepared to expect in the mother that glare and show which would have been attached to the parents of the great in the old world. How were they surprised when the matron, leaning on the arm of her son, entered the room! She was arrayed in the very plain, yet becoming garb worn by the Virginia lady of the olden time. Her address, always dignified and imposing, was courteous though reserved. She received the complimentary attentions which were profusely paid her without evincing the slightest elevation, and, at an early hour, wished the company much enjoyment of their pleasures, and observing that it was time for old people to be at home, retired, leaning as before on the arm of her son."

To this picture may be added another:

"The Marquis de Lafayette repaired to Fredericksburg, previous to his departure for Europe in the fall of 1784, to pay his parting respects to the mother, and to ask her blessing. Conducted by one of her grandsons he approached the house, when the young gentleman observed: 'There, sir, is my grandmother.' Lafayette beheld—working in the garden, clad in domestic-made clothes, and her gray head covered with a plain straw hat—the mother of 'his hero, his friend, and a country's preserver.' The lady saluted him, kindly observing: 'Ah, marquis! you see an old woman, but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling without the parade of changing my dress.'"

To the encomiums lavished by the marquis on his chief, the mother replied: "I am not surprised at what George has done for he was always a very good boy." So simple, in her true greatness of soul, was this remarkable woman.

Her piety was ardent, and she associated devotion with the grand and beautiful in nature. She was in the habit of repairing every day for prayer to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling.