With the further fortunes of the brave inventor we have no more to do, as that part of his history intimately connected with Dungeness ends here. His subsequent trials, disappointments, triumphs, all the world knows. His friend and partner, who so nobly sustained him, lies buried here, so tradition says, having died in 1806 of lockjaw caused by running an orange-thorn through his hand while removing trees from Florida to Dungeness.
Near the tomb of Mrs. Miller is another: "Sacred to pure affection. This simple stone covers the remains of James Shaw. His virtues are not to be learned from perishable marble; but when the records of Heaven shall be unfolded it is believed they will be found written there in characters as durable as the volumes of eternity. Died January 6th, 1820, aged 35 years." And by the side of this latter another marble slab, with this inscription, which explains itself: "Louisa C. Shaw, relict of James Shaw, Esq., and youngest daughter of Major-General Nathaniel Greene of the Army of the Revolution. Died at Dungeness, Georgia, April 24th, 1831, aged 45 years."
This ends the record of the residence of the family of General Greene at Dungeness. That they made it their home for many years is evident—that they removed here soon after the death of the general is probable. In the division of General Greene's possessions Dungeness became the property of Mrs. Shaw, his youngest daughter: she, dying childless, left it to her nephew, Phineas Miller Nightingale. Mrs. Nightingale, wife of the grandson of General Greene, to whom this property was given, was daughter of Rufus King, governor of New York, and granddaughter of Rufus King, minister to Great Britain during the elder Adams's administration. The Nightingales, descendants of General Greene, remained in undisturbed possession until the late war, dispensing unbounded hospitality at their princely mansion. During the war the house was occupied by Northern troops until its close, when, through the negligence of some negro refugees, it was burned. Its ruins alone testify to the wealth of former years which now is departed, and the broad acreage of untilled fields and the ruined negro cabins cry out loudly for those who will never return to bless them.
Let us turn once more to that cemetery in the olive-grove. Another stone claims our attention, a tablet to the memory of him who pronounced those glowing words, "First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen:" "Sacred to the memory of Gen. Henry Lee of Virginia. Obiit 25 March, 1818, ætat. 63." In 1814, General Lee was injured by a mob in Baltimore, and never recovered. Early in 1818 he arrived at Dungeness from Cuba, whither he had gone to regain his health. He landed from a schooner at the river landing, a weak, decrepit old man, in whom it would have been difficult to recognize the dashing Light-Horse Harry of the Revolution. A grandson of General Greene's, Phineas Miller Nightingale, was loitering near the landing. Calling him, General Lee learned who he was, and despatched him to his aunt, Mrs. Shaw, with the intelligence of his arrival. "Tell her," said he, "that the old friend and companion of General Greene has come to die in the arms of his daughter."
A carriage was sent for him, and he was installed in the southern chamber above the drawing-room, and everything done to alleviate his pain that the kindest forethought could suggest. He lingered here some two months, and then passed away, and was buried in the family burying-ground. His only baggage at the time of his arrival was an old hair-covered trunk nailed round with brass-headed nails.
An anecdote is preserved in the family relating to the general's residence there. One of the servants, Sara by name—commonly called "the Duchess" from her stately demeanor—incurred his ill-will. General Lee once threatened to throw his boot at her, and the Duchess turned upon him and replied, "If you do I'll throw it back at you." This answer so pleased the old general that he would afterward permit no other servant to wait upon him.
Some years after his death a stone was placed above his grave by his son, General Robert E. Lee, who a few months prior to his death visited his father's grave in company with his daughter.
These are some of the associations that cluster about the ruins of Dungeness, giving to those ivy-grown walls, to forest and shore, an interest which mere attractions of scenery and climate could not awaken.