Part 38 (1/2)
Was.h.i.+ngton was not unsocial, yet he loved to be away from the great gathering-places of men and the tumults of public life. He loved his friends warmly; and those for whom he had a thorough esteem--a friends.h.i.+p based upon the perception of genuine qualities of head and heart that made them trustworthy--were always most welcome to his retreat on the banks of the Potomac. With such friends he kept up a cordial correspondence; and in many of his letters, immediately after his retirement, he spoke of his domestic employments and pleasures.
”Retired from noise myself,” he wrote to General Heath, ”and the responsibility attached to public employment, my hours will glide smoothly on. My best wishes, however, for the prosperity of our country, will always have the first place in my thoughts; while to repair buildings, and to cultivate my farms, which require close attention, will occupy the few years, perhaps days, I may be a sojourner here, as I am now in the sixty-sixth year of my peregrinations through life.”
To Secretary M'Henry he wrote, in joyous mood, at the close of May: ”I am indebted to you for several unacknowledged letters; but never mind that: go on as if you had answers. You are at the source of information, and can find many things to relate; while I have nothing to say that would either inform or amuse a secretary of war in Philadelphia.
”I might tell that I begin my diurnal course with the sun; that, if my hirelings are not in their places at that time, I send them messages of sorrow for their indisposition; that, having put these wheels in motion, I examine the state of things further; that, the more they are probed, the deeper I find the wounds which my buildings have sustained by an absence and neglect of eight years; that, by the time I have accomplished these matters, breakfast (a little after seven o'clock, about the time I suppose you are taking leave of Mrs. M'Henry) is ready; that, this being over, I mount my horse and ride round my farms, which employ me until it is time to dress for dinner, at which I rarely miss seeing strange faces--come, as they say, out of respect for me. Pray, would not the word curiosity answer as well? And how different this from having a few social friends at a cheerful board! The usual time of sitting at table, a walk, and tea, bring me within the dawn of candlelight; previous to which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that, as soon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters I have received; but, when the lights are brought, I feel tired, and disinclined to engage in this work, conceiving that the next will do as well. The next night comes, and with it the same causes for postponement, and so on.
”This will account for your letters remaining so long unacknowledged; and, having given you the history of a day, it will serve for a year, and I am persuaded you will not require a second edition of it. But it may strike you that, in this detail, no mention is made of any portion of time allotted for reading. The remark would be just, for I have not looked into a book since I came home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have discharged my workmen, probably not before the nights grow longer, when possibly I may be looking in Doomsday-Book.”
Was.h.i.+ngton soon became wearied with the continual visits of strangers, to which he alluded in his letter to Mr. M'Henry, and he resolved to adopt some plan of relief that should be consistent with the most genuine hospitality. He had an accomplished and favorite nephew, Lawrence Lewis, son of his sister Elizabeth. He invited him to make Mount Vernon his home, and to a.s.sume the duties of entertainer of company when the master should desire repose. ”As both your aunt and I,”
he said, in his letter of invitation, ”are in the decline of life, and regular in our habits, especially in our hours of rising and going to bed, I require some person (fit and proper) to ease me of the trouble of entertaining company, particularly of nights, as it is my inclination to retire (and, unless prevented by very particular company, I always do retire), either to bed or to my study, soon after candlelight. In taking those duties (which hospitality obliges me to bestow on company) off my hands, it would render me a very acceptable service.”[122]
Young Lewis accepted his uncle's invitation with pleasure, for he loved the society of such as he knew he should meet at Mount Vernon. There was also a charmer there for young men, in the person of Nelly Custis, a gay, beautiful, and accomplished girl of eighteen years, who was the life of a social party, and a beam of suns.h.i.+ne in the family circle. As his adopted daughter, Was.h.i.+ngton had watched over her with parental solicitude. Tradition says that he frequently inculcated the most valuable precepts when talking seriously with her; and in his most playful mood would give her words of wisdom that took root in her mind and heart. This fact is so well exhibited in the following letter of his, written to Nelly, when she was about sixteen years of age, that we give it entire. It was on the occasion of her first attendance at a ball, an account of which she had given him in a letter:--
”PHILA., _January 16, 1795._
”Your letter, the receipt of which I am now acknowledging, is written correctly and in fair characters, which is an evidence that you command, when you please, a fair hand. Possessed of these advantages, it will be your own fault if you do not avail yourself of them; and, attention being paid to the choice of your subjects, you can have nothing to fear from the malignancy of criticism, as your ideas are lively, and your descriptions agreeable. Let me touch a little now on your Georgetown ball; and happy, thrice happy, for the fair who were a.s.sembled on the occasion, that there was a man to spare; for had there been seventy-nine ladies and only seventy-eight gentlemen, there might, in the course of the evening, have been some disorder among the caps, notwithstanding the apathy which _one_ of the company entertains for the '_youth_' of the present day, and her determination 'never to give herself a moment's uneasiness on account of any of them.' A hint here: men and women feel the same inclinations to each other _now_ that they always have done, and which they will continue to do until there is a new order of things; and _you_, as others have done, may find, perhaps, that the pa.s.sions of your s.e.x are easier raised than allayed. Do not, therefore, boast too soon or too strongly of your insensibility to, or resistance of, its powers. In the composition of the human frame there is a good deal of inflammable matter, however dormant it may lie for a time, and like an intimate acquaintance of yours, when the torch is put to it, _that_ which is _within you_ may burst into a blaze; for which reason, and especially, too, as I have entered upon the chapter of advices, I will read you a lecture drawn from this text.
”Love is said to be an involuntary pa.s.sion, and it is therefore contended that it can not be resisted. This is true in part only, for, like all things else, when nourished and supplied plentifully with aliment, it is rapid in its progress; but let these be withdrawn, and it may be stifled in its birth, or much stinted in its growth. For example, a woman (the same may be said of the other s.e.x) all beautiful and accomplished, will, while her hand and heart are undisposed of, turn the heads and set the circle in which she moves on fire. Let her marry, and what is the consequence? The madness _ceases_, and all is quiet again. Why? Not because there is any diminution in the charms of the lady, but because there is an end of hope. Hence it follows that love may and therefore ought to be under the guidance of reason; for, although we can not avoid first impressions, we may a.s.suredly place them under guard: and my motives for treating on this subject are to show you, while you remain Eleanor Parke Custis, spinster, and retain the resolution to love with moderation, the propriety of adhering to the latter resolution, at least until you have secured your game, and the way by which it may be accomplished.
”When the fire is beginning to kindle, and your heart growing warm, propound these questions to it: 'Who is this invader? Have I a competent knowledge of him? Is he a man of good character? a man of sense?' For, be a.s.sured, a sensible woman can never be happy with a fool. 'What has been his walk of life? Is he a gambler, a spendthrift, or drunkard? Is his fortune sufficient to maintain me in the manner I have been accustomed to live, and my sisters do live, and is he one to whom my friends can have no reasonable objection?' If these interrogatories can be satisfactorily answered, there will remain but one more to be asked; that, however, is an important one, 'Have I sufficient ground to conclude that his affections are engaged by me?' Without this, the heart of sensibility will struggle against a pa.s.sion that is not reciprocated--delicacy, custom, or call it by what epithet you will, having precluded all advances on your part. The declaration, without the _most indirect_ invitation of yours, must proceed from the man, to render it permanent and valuable; and nothing short of good sense and an easy, unaffected conduct, can draw the line between prudery and coquetry. It would be no great departure from truth to say that it rarely happens otherwise than that a thorough-paced coquette dies in celibacy, as a punishment for her attempts to mislead others, by encouraging looks, words, or actions, given for no other purpose than to draw men on to make overtures, that they may be rejected.
”This day, according to our information, gives a husband to your elder sister, and consummates, it is to be presumed, her fondest desires. The dawn with us is bright, and propitious, I hope, of her future happiness, for a full measure of which she and Mr. Law have my earnest wishes. Compliments and congratulations on this occasion, and best regards are presented to your mamma, Doctor Stuart, and family; and every blessing--among which a good husband, when you want and deserve one--is bestowed on you by yours, affectionately.”[123]
Young Lewis found a rival in the person of a son of the eminent Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, whose suit was decidedly encouraged by Mrs.
Was.h.i.+ngton. This young man had just returned from Europe, where he had been educated; and he displayed in his deportment and conversation all the social graces derived from foreign travel. Nelly was also pleased with the young man; and her brother, then at school in Annapolis, could not conceal his satisfaction. So he ventured to say, in a letter to Was.h.i.+ngton: ”I find that young Mr. C---- has been at Mount Vernon, and, report says, to address my sister. It may be well to subjoin an opinion, which I believe is general in this place, viz., that he is a young man of the strictest probity and morals, discreet without closeness, temperate without excess, and modest without vanity; possessed of those amiable qualities and friends.h.i.+p which are so commendable, and with few of the vices of the age. In short, I think it a most desirable match, and wish that it may take place with all my heart.”
Was.h.i.+ngton relished neither the interference of the suitor with his nephew's ”current of true love,” nor the volunteer opinion of Nelly's brother; and he abruptly closed the correspondence on the subject with young Custis, by saying: ”Young Mr. C---- came here about a fortnight ago, to dinner, and left us next morning after breakfast. If his object was such as you say has been reported, it was not declared here; and therefore the less is said upon the subject, particularly by your sister's friends, the more prudent it will be until the subject develops itself more.”
Other suitors appeared at that time, and the a.s.saults made upon the young lady's heart seem to have given Was.h.i.+ngton and his wife much anxiety. ”I was young and romantic then,” she said to a lady, from whose lips Mr. Irving has quoted[124]--”I was young and romantic then, and fond of wandering alone by moonlight in the woods of Mount Vernon.
Grandmamma thought it wrong and unsafe, and scolded and coaxed me into a promise that I would not wander in the woods again _unaccompanied_. But I was missing one evening, and was brought home from the interdicted woods to the drawing-room, where the general was walking up and down with his hands behind him, as was his wont. Grandmamma, seated in her great arm-chair, opened a severe reproof.”
”Poor Miss Nelly,” says Mr. Irving, ”was reminded of her promise, and taxed with her delinquency. She knew that she had done wrong, admitted her fault, and essayed no excuse; but, when there was a slight pause, moved to retire from the room. She was just shutting the door, when she overheard the general attempting, in a low voice, to intercede in her behalf. 'My dear,' observed he, 'I would say no more: perhaps she was not alone.'
”His intercession stopped Miss Nelly in her retreat. She reopened the door, and advanced up to the general with a firm step. 'Sir,' said she, 'you brought me up to speak the truth; and when I told grandmamma I was alone, I hope you believed _I was alone_.'
”The general made one of his most magnanimous bows. 'My child,' replied he, 'I beg your pardon.'”
As we shall observe presently, Lawrence Lewis triumphed in his suit over all compet.i.tors, and the beautiful Nelly Custis became his bride.
Without the least suspicion that his sweet dream of repose in the bosom of his family, amid the quiet scenes of rural life, would ever be disturbed while he lived, Was.h.i.+ngton now applied himself to the repairs of his buildings, and the general improvement of his estate. ”At the age of sixty-five,” he wrote to the earl of Radnor, ”I am now recommencing my agricultural and rural pursuits, which were always more congenial to my temper and disposition than the noise and bustle of public employments; notwithstanding so small a portion of my life has been engaged in the former.”
To the Reverend William Gordon he wrote: ”Rural employments, while I am spared--which, in the natural course of things, can not be long--will now take the place of toil, responsibility, and the solicitude attending the walks of public life; and with a desire for the peace, happiness, and prosperity of a country, in whose service the prime of my life has been spent, and with best wishes for the tranquillity of all nations and all men, the scene to me will close--grateful to that Providence which has directed my steps, and s.h.i.+elded me in the various changes and chances through which I have pa.s.sed from my youth to the present moment.”
And now, too, the a.s.sociations of his earlier life, when he was a farmer at Mount Vernon, brought pleasing pictures of the past to his memory, and he seemed to yearn for a renewal of those social pleasures which had been the delight of his young manhood. To Mrs. Fairfax, in England, who had resided at ruined Belvoir, and had been a beloved member of the society of that neighborhood, he wrote, in May, 1798:--
”Five-and-twenty years have nearly pa.s.sed away since I have considered myself as permanently residing at this place, or have been in a situation to indulge myself in a familiar intercourse with my friends by letter or otherwise. During this period, so many important events have occurred, and such changes in men and things have taken place, as the compa.s.s of a letter would give you but an inadequate idea of; none of which events, however, nor all of them together, have been able to eradicate from my mind the recollection of those happy moments, the happiest of my life, which I have enjoyed in your company.