“Your affectionate George Washington.”
This trial of separation was mitigated, although often prolonged 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 those yearly 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 composed of 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 or valorous 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 of a 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 a source of joy, rather than of regret, that there was but one Washington, 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.