The Mother of Washington and Her Times

by Sara Agnes Rice Pryor

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. The Virginia Gazette declared next day that the arrival of the countess gave inexpressible pleasure, that she was a very elegant woman, that her 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 the Gazette to 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 with refined 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 the Fowey! The sooner the better, in fact.

But before that could happen Lady Dunmore had time to become immensely popular in Williamsburg. The Gazette was 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 christened Virginia in 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.