A Virginia cavalier

by Molly Elliot Seawell

One gloomy September day, just a year from the time he had set forth with his brother on that dreary voyage, George realized that, at last, he was master of Mount Vernon, and the realization was among the most painful moments of his life. He returned to the place from Belvoir, the home of his sister’s father, where he had left her. In vain he had pleaded with her to continue at Mount Vernon, for Laurence in his will had given it to her during her lifetime. But, gentle and submissive in all else, Anne Washington would not and could not return to the home of her brief married happiness and the spot connected with the long series of crushing griefs that had befallen her.

To all of George’s pleadings she had answered:

“No, George. Anywhere on earth to me is better than Mount Vernon. I understand what you feel, and have not spoken—that you do not wish to appear to be master while I am living. But you must. I have no fear that you will not give me my share and more of what comes from the estate; but I would give it all up rather than go back. My father’s house is the least painful place to me now.”

There was no moving her, and at last she was permitted to have her own way.

The servants all crowded around him, and the old mammy, who was promoted to be housekeeper, wanted him to take the rooms that had once been his brother’s, but George would not, and had his belongings placed in the little room overlooking the river which had been his from his boyhood. This much disgusted Billy, who thought the master of Mount Vernon quite too modest. He spent the autumn there, varied by occasional visits to Ferry Farm and his sister at Belvoir. He worked hard, for he regarded himself as merely his sister’s steward, and he determined never to make her regret either his brother’s or her own generosity to him. He never thought Mount Vernon could be so dreary to him. William Fairfax, who was then graduated from William and Mary College, came over to see him often, but George had not the heart to return even William’s visits, so it was all on one side. His mother and Betty came to visit him, but Madam Washington had upon her hands three growing lads, the eldest a tall youth of seventeen, and with the vast cares and responsibilities of the mistress of a plantation in those days she could not be absent for long. The only time in which there was any real brightness was once when Betty came over and stayed a whole month with him. George’s affections, like his passions, were rooted in the fibre of his being, and he felt his brother’s death with a depth of sorrow that only those who knew him well could understand.

At Christmas he gave all the negroes their usual privileges and presents, but closed the house and went to Ferry Farm. In the holiday time his coming gave the greatest joy, and the cloud upon him began to lift a little.

Meanwhile he had received his commission as major and inspector-general of the forces in his district from Governor Dinwiddie, and he entered with enthusiasm into his work. He attended the general musters diligently at Alexandria, and used all his influence in promoting enlistments in the militia. He was then nineteen years old—the youngest major in the colonial service.

He was in constant receipt of letters from Lord Fairfax, giving him news of affairs on the frontier, which were assuming a menacing aspect. In one of these letters Lord Fairfax wrote: “The policy of the English has always been to keep on friendly terms with the Six Nations, and the good-will of these great and powerful tribes is essential in the coming conflict. But they have been tampered with by the French, and the great chief lately sent me this message: ‘Where are the Indian lands, anyway? For the French claim all on one side of the Ohio and the English claim all on the other.’ By which you will see, my dear George, that in diplomacy, as in war, you will find these chiefs no fools. Our honorable governor means well, but I think he will wait until a few men, and perhaps women, are scalped before taking any decisive measures. I need not say I long to see you. Let not another year pass without your coming to Greenway Court.”

All during the summer George kept up an active correspondence with the earl, who had special means of finding out the truth. In the early autumn he received a very pressing message from the governor, requiring his presence at Williamsburg. George set off immediately, with Billy, as usual, in charge of his saddle-bags. These sudden journeys, in which George could ride tirelessly night and day, very much disgusted Billy, who, as a man, was quite as fond of his ease as when a boy, but he was obliged to start on short notice.

They arrived at Williamsburg in the evening, and George immediately sent Billy to the palace with a letter notifying the governor of his arrival. In a very little while a letter came back from Governor Dinwiddie, asking Major Washington’s presence at the palace at his very earliest convenience.