The Mother of Washington and Her Times

by Sara Agnes Rice Pryor

It is said that Mary Washington never tolerated an expression of complaint or despair during these trying times. She would rebuke it by saying, "The mothers and wives of brave men must be brave women." Mr. Custis says that, "Directly in the way of the news, as it passed from North to South, one courier would bring intelligence of success to our arms; another, 'swiftly coursing at his heels,' the saddening reverse of disaster and defeat. While thus ebbed and flowed the fortunes of our cause, the mother, trusting to the wisdom and protection of Divine Providence, preserved the even tenor of her life, affording an example to those matrons whose sons were alike engaged in the arduous contest; and showing that unavailing anxieties, however belonging to nature, were unworthy of mothers whose sons were combating for the inestimable rights of man and the freedom and happiness of the world.

"During the war the mother set a most valuable example in the management of her domestic concerns, carrying her own keys, bustling in her household affairs, providing for her family, and living and moving in all the pride of independence. She was not actuated by that ambition for show which pervades lesser minds; and the peculiar plainness and dignity of her manners became in no wise altered, when the sun of glory arose upon her house. There are some of the aged inhabitants of Fredericksburg who well remember the matron as seated in an old-fashioned open chaise; she was in the habit of visiting, almost daily, her little farm in the vicinity of the town. When there she would ride about her fields, giving her orders, and seeing that they were obeyed.

"Hers was a familiar form in Fredericksburg during the Revolution, and its people showed her every respect as she walked the streets leaning on her cane. Devout and worshipful she appeared every Sabbath at church at the appointed hour; and while the armies under her son were struggling for our freedom, the knitting needles were busily plied, and from her home went forth her modest contributions of supplies for him and his soldiers."

Her biographers love to dwell upon her preternatural serenity. This serenity did not serve for dark hours only. She was not surprised when the tide turned, and the waves of triumph were borne to her feet. When her neighbors thronged her with plaudits and praise of her noble son—their idol and hers—she restrained their extravagant words, saying quietly: "George seems to have deserved well of his country, but we must not praise him too much. George has not forgotten his duty!"

When the news reached Fredericksburg of the victories of Trenton and Princeton (in that ten days' campaign which Frederick the Great called the most brilliant in the annals of war) friends gathered around her with congratulations upon the great achievements of her son. She received them with calmness, observed that it was most pleasurable news, and that George appeared to have deserved well of his country for such signal services, and continued, in reply to the congratulating patriots (most of whom held letters in their hands, from which they read extracts), "but, my good sirs, here is too much flattery—still George will not forget the lessons I early taught him; he will not forget himself, though he is the subject of so much praise."

Among the traditions which still linger around Fredericksburg is one illustrating her perfect calmness, trust, and self-control. George Kiger, the courier, having at a time of great anxiety ridden hard to deliver a packet to her from headquarters, was dismayed to see her drop it unread into one of her unfathomable pockets, simply remarking, "It is all right—I am well assured of that." Bursting with curiosity, and mindful of the crowd which had assembled at her gate to hear the news, Kiger suggested: "There may have been a battle. The neighbors would like to know." Thereupon she fished up the packet, glanced over it, and announced, "There has been a victory!" adding, in the fulness of her heart, "George generally carries through whatever he undertakes."

In relating this we are reminded of the despatch once handed to General Washington while he was sitting for his portrait. He read it apparently unmoved and in silence. It announced the surrender of Burgoyne's army!

As the long years passed heavily away she had need of more than her own strong nature to sustain her. She must seek for strength not her own. "She was always pious," says Mr. Custis, "but in her latter days her devotions were performed in private. She was in the habit of repairing every day to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling, where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, she communed with her Creator, in humiliation and prayer."

This favorite resort of hers, sometimes called "Oratory Rock," was a spot on Colonel Lewis's estate, sheltered by climbing vines from observation. Oratory Rock was a knoll on the "Kenmore" grounds which during her life overlooked the Rappahannock. The river has since forsaken its bed there, and flows in another channel. It was to this spot, made lovely by shade trees and flowing vines, that she repaired daily for meditation and prayer, returning home soothed and strengthened. She often expressed her gratitude for these serene hours, and desired that she might be buried upon the spot, where she had received such consolation.