Mary Ball Washington Read online

  Where Mary fit at this time was unknown. As a woman, she probably had “considerably less influence than” Augustine over her sons. A few decades after her children matured, in the early Federalist period, children of Virginia and Maryland needed their mothers’ approval, especially in school.20 But that was almost a civilization ahead.

  Her horseback-riding expertise and interest in equestrianism may have helped George with his own. He would have been taught by both Augustine and Mary, but Mary’s own interest may have made it a mother-son activity. George may have been a messenger for the Washingtons when both were busy, providing ample opportunity for the young boy to learn of the region and neighbors.21

  These skills obviously came in handy in George’s later life. Indeed, sixty years later, former president Thomas Jefferson, writing from his retirement at his home in Monticello, referred to George Washington as “the best horseman of his age, and the most graceful figure that could be seen on horseback.”22

  Mary’s interest in horses continued well past teaching age for her children. Recreationally, horses were used for entertainment in racing, especially breeds imported from England, and the Washingtons and their neighbors owned several dozen, ranging in name from Aristotle and Bolton to Vampire and Sober John. Fredericksburg itself was a site of a horse race in October 1774.23 Ads appeared frequently in the Virginia Gazette on a range of equestrian topics—collars and clothes for sale, trading, lost and found, races. But they were just as much property as hobby. In 1747 in the Gazette, Mary Washington posted a notice of a runaway or stolen horse (she was not sure which), which disappeared over two weeks earlier on the night of April 30. It was described as “a large Black Horse, branded on the far Shoulder LW; has a white Spot on each Flank, and likewise on each Side of his Breast; with a long Mane, most Part of which hangs on his right Side.” Whoever brought it to her—the notice did not appear again, so presumably someone did—earned up to 1 pistole (a gold coin, or doubloon), worth a little less than but nearly 1 pound.24

  ON CHRISTMAS EVE, 1740, THE WASHINGTON FAMILY’S LIFE WAS UPENDED. IT was supposed to be the eve of celebration, one of the most joyous times of the year. Instead, on a cold day in late December, their house literally burned down. Or, at least, so said oral tradition. George Washington noted to David Humphreys in his authorized biography that his “father’s house burned,” though he did not specify where, when, or how, leaving historians to wonder if he meant his Ferry Farm or another dwelling of Augustine’s. A neighbor to the Ferry Farm Washingtons, Robert Douglas, an immigrant from Scotland who worked as a clerk in Fredericksburg, wrote in 1795 to then former president Washington that “on a Christmass [sic] Eve, his great house was burned down & that he was Obliged with his good family to go and live in the Kitchen.”25

  This story—even with a letter from a witness—came under historical scrutiny, as Philip Levy and his archaeological team in 2008 could find no evidence of a massive fire, as no distinct structure or foundation existed pre-fire and post-fire. “Repair, renovation, and abandonment were what we saw. But no fire.”26 Instead, what they later discovered was not a house-destroying fire, but only a fire in a single room at the south end of the house, sometime before 1750. It was in the back hall room, which contained a small fireplace. Possibly, burning logs fell away, causing the fire to spread to the room. The burned pieces of plaster discovered in a small cellar indicated that. What was destroyed structurally was quickly repaired, almost seamlessly.27 A sort of middle-ground narrative was born: It wasn’t an inferno, nor was it nothing. It was enough to be noted in one or two historical letters in passing, and that was it.

  A fire breaking out, no matter how small, was scary enough—to an eight-year-old George, it must have looked and sounded terrifying. The adults and servants and slaves frantically getting buckets of water to stop the spread; living in the separated kitchen as repairs commenced in the cold would have only added stress to the unfamiliar situation.

  But it was repaired, and life went on. House fires at the time were quite common.

  AS FORTUNATE AS THEY WERE IN DECEMBER NOT TO LOSE THE ENTIRE plantation house, the family was not as fortunate a few months earlier. On October 23, 1740, Mary’s sixth and final child, whom they named Mildred after either her father’s sister or her father’s mother, died at the approximate age of sixteen months. It is unknown what killed her. Mildred was born less than a year after their initial move to Home Farm. But her death was a wake-up call—a grave memento mori for the Washingtons, who’d been relatively lucky in terms of infant or child mortality. Mildred was not the only Washington, though, who died; Augustine’s fourth child, his last with his first wife, died five years earlier. Jane Washington was twelve. He was barely three years old, and in George’s young life, death would not be uncommon.

  Now it was Mildred who died. George, at eight years old, had a greater understanding of death as more than simply “not coming back” and something incomprehensible.

  It was bound to happen at some point. Again, infant mortality was almost a guarantee in every family, and luckily Mary’s last was her only. Little Mildred was born at Ferry Farm and died there, offering bookends to the otherwise routine lifestyle of the Washingtons, and for Mary in particular.

  It’s worth noting that in September of 1771, before selling the land, George Washington conducted a survey of Ferry Farm, opening it at “the little gate by the tombstone.” A curious but telling starting point of the land survey, this little tombstone was significant to George so many decades later. Baby Mildred wasn’t simply a lost sibling.28

  Death in the biographies of Mary were almost glossed over, as if it was a distraction to the grand character of Mary and her relationship to her children. The hagiographical Story of Mary Washington summarized the birth and death of this child in two sentences, before skipping years ahead to the death of Augustine.29 Future president Woodrow Wilson’s biography of George Washington in 1896 did not mention any Mildred or youngest daughter.

  Mary must have been beside herself. It was a great test of her strength of will and fortitude. Death was an “inescapable phenomenon,” but it also often served to unite families and communities.30 The commonality of losing a child offered a sort of solace and solidarity for the grieving mother. Most mothers experienced this very same dread and fear and heartbreak—sometimes more than once.

  “God takes away . . . God’s will be done,” said William Byrd when his infant son, Parke, died in 1710. Perhaps the deeply religious Mary thought the same—that Mildred’s death was God’s will. But an inseparable and deeply unique connection between mother and daughter exists, which Byrd could not, or would not, understand; however, he did note that there was a difference in his wife, the mother of the dead Parke, as she was “very much afflicted [with] several fits of tears.” Weeks went by until she began to compose herself.31

  THE MARRIAGE OF MARY AND AUGUSTINE WASHINGTON LASTED TWELVE years. This decade-plus required delicate coordination between husband and wife, and mother and father, to manage the plantations, which had grown considerably, and the nine children of both of Augustine’s marriages. They had come and gone from Popes Creek to Little Hunting Creek to Home Farm, and then everything changed. Augustine, the father of George Washington, took ill after exposure to the frigid elements. Benson Lossing described the scene:

  One day early in April, 1743, Mr. Washington rode several hours in a cold rain storm. He became drenched and chilled. Before midnight he was tortured with terrible pains, for his exposure had brought on a fierce attack of hereditary gout. The next day he was burned with fever. His malady ran its course rapidly. . . .32

  The patriarch of the Washington family was dying. This was no small event, for either the family or the slaves and servants. “In whispered voices, or hidden discussions, all would have been inquiring about what was said of their name or those of their loved ones. Who would go where? Who would remain together and who would have to leave. . . . The death of a master was every bit as great a tra
gedy in the yard as in the home—perhaps even a greater one.”33 The livelihood—and lives—of the slaves depended entirely on what was written in Augustine’s will.

  Augustine knew his end was coming. His will was written on April 11, 1743. He died a day later, at the age of forty-nine. His children ranged in age from five to twenty-five; George was eleven, and later would have only a passing memory of his father. What mentions George made of Augustine later in life were mainly legal, having to do with his lands and will.

  His last will and testament, in which he noted he was “sick and weak but of perfect and disposing sence [sic] and memory,” was lengthy and that of a man of wealth who owned much land. It began with a simple “In the name of God, Amen.” Each of his sons from both marriages received plantations of their own. He “left all his children in a state of comparative independence.”34 Lawrence Washington received 2,500 acres of land near Hunting Creek. It was no surprise this move was seen as making Lawrence, the eldest son, the head of the Washington household, as Little Hunting Creek was seen in many ways as the primus inter pares, the first among equals, of all his estates. To Augustine Jr., he gave part of an estate at Bridges Creek in Westmoreland, including cattle and slaves (specifically mentioning a slave named Frank). To George, he gave the estate of Ferry Farm, along with half of the estate at Deeps Run and ten slaves. Samuel Washington received 600 acres at Chotank, Washington’s birthplace, and his other sons received other lands and property.

  Mary received five slaves, named Ned, Jack, Bob, Sue, and Lucy; the crops at Bridges Creek, Chotank, and the Rappahannock estates; and the rest of her husband’s property that was not mentioned was to be divided among her and her children. It was further written, “It is my will and desire that my said four sons [sic] Estates may be kept in my wife’s hands until they respectively attain the age of twenty one years, in case my said wife continues so long unmarried.”35

  This last part, knowing what we know now centuries later, assumes much, for a simple reason.

  Mary was not like other women of her time. If other events in her life didn’t say as much, that fact that she remained a widow for the remainder of her life after her husband’s death did.

  THE DAY AFTER AUGUSTINE’S DEATH, ON APRIL 13, 1743, ABOUT FIFTY MILES to the southwest in Albemarle County, a boy was born. He was the third of ten children; his father, Peter, was a surveyor and plantation owner.

  Much later, this boy would grow up to become the author of the Declaration of Independence, and later serve as third president of the United States.

  As the Washingtons were grieving at the death of Augustine, so a nearby family was celebrating at the birth of a boy named Thomas Jefferson.

  SEVERAL MONTHS AFTER HIS DEATH, IN JULY OF 1743, AUGUSTINE WASHINGTON’S entire estate was inventoried. The survey tallied and valued a massive list of possessions. There were twenty slaves at Home Farm, each named, ranging in worth from 35 pounds—his name was Bob—to 1 shilling—Jo, possibly a newborn or child, or, conversely, an elder. An additional seven slaves were stationed on other property, called the “Quarters,” below Fredericksburg, possibly the living quarters of some slaves. Livestock, including six oxen, nine cows, six calves, twenty-one sheep, and others, were also inventoried. Spoons, watches, mugs, china, tables, chairs, beds, tools, and everything in between were listed and accounted for. In total, his possessions at Ferry Farm were worth 824 pounds, 8 shillings, and 3 pence.36 To compare, five years earlier, he had bought nearly 300 acres of land for a quarter of that amount. That land was not cheap.

  AS RICH AS AUGUSTINE MAY HAVE BEEN, HIS WEALTH WAS NEARLY INSIGNIFICANT to such families as the Fairfaxes. In 1719, Lord Baron Thomas Fairfax, about twenty-six years old, owned roughly five million acres—approximately 90 miles squared, or 7,800 square miles—of land in the Northern Neck.

  The Washington family was placed comfortably in the “the second tier of gentry, below the colony’s royal officials and its governor,” while placing themselves in, according to Mount Vernon’s researcher Mary Thompson, “the wealthiest tenth of Virginia’s population.”37 The Fairfaxes may have seen the Washingtons as simple gentry, but to the other 90 percent of Virginia, they were a name unto themselves.

  GEORGE WASHINGTON PARKE CUSTIS NOTED THAT ON HIS DEATHBED AUGUSTINE was said to have uttered, “I thank God that in all my life I never struck a man in anger, for if I had I am sure that, from my remarkable muscular powers, I should have killed my antagonist, and then his blood at this awful moment would have lain heavily on my soul. As it is, I die in peace with all mankind.” How much of this is paraphrasing from Custis is unknown, but his humblebragging would not have been unusual for a man of such stature.38

  Mary Washington was about thirty-seven years old when she lost her husband. Marriage was a sacred institution in the colonies. Annulment was possible, in which case, legally, the marriage never took place. But that was a rare circumstance. Marriage was serious. “When [a woman] said, ‘Until death do us part,’ she meant it. Divorce was unknown; its possibility undreamed of.”39

  Unlike other women, especially of childbearing age, Mary never remarried. “Mary Washington was loyal to her husband’s memory and to his trust. And now, having to assume her husband’s duties in addition to her own, no time for sorrowful brooding was permitted to the widowed mother.”40 Perhaps she didn’t remarry so that she could keep her inheritance willed from Augustine; if she remarried, all land, including the children’s, would be the new head of the family’s to manage as he saw fit. All that Augustine inherited and worked for, and all that Mary inherited, would have gone to this new man. This is the view of Michelle Hamilton, manager of the Mary Washington House in Fredericksburg. She emphasized that this was not a selfish move on Mary’s part just to keep the land or keep power over a plantation: “She put her children ahead of herself.” It was not a detriment to Mary’s character—the opposite of her relatively late age when first marrying—to remain a young widow. “Mary Washington was a strong woman who managed a plantation and five children on her own in a world dominated by men. . . . This accomplishment should be respected.”41

  The custom of remarrying was so common, for both men and women, that it can’t be emphasized enough how unusual it was that Mary never remarried. In colonial Maryland, in Charles County, two-thirds of widows and widowers remarried within the first year after their spouse’s death.42 It was a necessary custom for those who could not raise either a plantation or children alone, just as Augustine had done.

  Mary could. Despite possible whispers and rumors from nearby neighbors about her widowhood, whether about her personality or about possible courtiers grabbing a piece of the Washington land, she did not care. In a way, it put her above many other women of her time. She lived in a man’s world, so a young widow with children and a plantation would naturally have an uphill battle to fight.

  When Augustine died, so did whatever dependence Mary had. Though she was plagued in her early girlhood by the deaths of her father, mother, guardian, sisters, and others, and though she bounced around from place to place, she was still relatively looked after. Her family members’ wills made sure of that, and her siblings were almost a generational difference in age. When Augustine died, she did not have another to look up to, to take the brunt of responsibility. Now she had to manage a plantation, children, and slaves, all at the age of thirty-seven.

  Augustine’s death was her baptism by fire.

  Chapter 7

  Matriarch

  THE WIDOWHOOD AND MIDLIFE OF MARY WASHINGTON

  1743‒1754

  “Saddled with responsibility for the four younger siblings, the boy was hostage to her whims and steely will. . . .”

  The patriarch was dead; long live the matriarch.

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, a poet and contemporary of George Washington on the other side of the Atlantic in Frankfurt (then an imperial free city within the Holy Roman Empire), wrote in his work Wilhelm Meister’s Years of Travel, “She is the most excellent
woman, who when the husband dies, becomes as a father to the children.”1 That is exactly what Mary Washington was to her children: a mother and a father, fulfilling both maternal and paternal roles to both her step- and biological children, adult and young.

  The Washington family’s entire structure was upended by the death of Augustine. It fundamentally changed the future of the children—George included. One historian, Richard Norton Smith, said that with the loss of Augustine and under the guardianship of his mother, “George Washington grew into an emotionally inaccessible man who channeled his considerable passions into, first, self-advancement, and second, building a nation.”2

  Many years later, George Washington Parke Custis, the grandson of Martha Custis, née Dandridge (later Martha Washington), and the step-grandson of George Washington, wrote that Mary, “by the death of her husband, became involved in the cares of a young family, at a period when these responsibilities seem more especially to claim the aid and control of the stronger sex; and it was left to this remarkable woman, by a method the most rare, by an education and discipline the most peculiar and imposing, to form in the youth-time of her son those great and essential qualities which led on to the glories of his after-life.”3

  One author, Paul Ford, writing in 1896, went in the opposite direction from George’s descendant: George’s mother had nothing to persuade or offer him in these years. “The sentimentality that has been lavished about the relations between the two and her influence upon him, partakes of fiction rather than of truth. . . . The boy passed most of his time at the homes of his two elder brothers, and this was fortunate.”4 Factually, again, this was more or less accurate, but it’s wrong to think that Mary was nothing to her son during these years. As George himself wrote, it was Mary by whose “Maternal hand (early deprived of a Father) I was led to Manhood.”5 Indeed, it would be outlandish to suggest that General George Washington did not inherit some of his confidence and poise from his “commanding” mother. As his cousin Lawrence attested, “Whoever has seen that awe-inspiring air and manner so characteristic in the Father of his Country, will remember the matron as she appeared when the presiding genius of her well-ordered household, commanding and being obeyed.”6