Lives of Celebrated Women

MRS. WASHINGTON

Martha Dandridge was born in the county of New Kent, Virginia, in May, 1732. Her education was entirely of a domestic character, there being no schools in the region where she dwelt. As she grew up, she was distinguished for personal beauty, pleasing manners, and general amiability of demeanor. She frequently appeared at the court of Williamsburg, then held by the royal governors of Virginia, and became a general favorite.

At the age of seventeen, she was married to Daniel Park Custis, of her native county, and the new-married couple were settled at the White House, on the banks of the Pamunkey River. Mr. Custis devoted himself to agricultural pursuits, and became an eminently successful planter. They had four children, two of whom died at an early period. Martha arrived at womanhood, and died at Mount Vernon, in 1770, and John perished at the age of twenty-seven, while in the service of his country, at the siege of Yorktown, in 1781. Mr. Custis died at about middle age, leaving his widow, still young, yet possessed of an ample fortune. Beside extensive landed estates, she had £30,000 sterling in money.

Mrs. Custis was sole executor of her husband’s will, and she appears to have been well qualified to discharge the duties which devolved upon her. She conducted her affairs with surprising ability, and the concerns of her extensive fortune seemed to thrive under her management. In 1758, Colonel Washington, then twenty-six years of age, became accidentally acquainted with the fair widow, and, after a brief courtship, they were married. This occurred in 1759. Soon after, they removed to Mount Vernon, which henceforward became their permanent residence.

Mrs. Washington had no children by this second marriage. Martha and John Custis were, however, fully adopted into the affections of her present husband. In discharging her various domestic duties, and rearing her children, time flowed smoothly on for almost twenty years. In 1775, Washington, being appointed commander-in-chief of the American army, proceeded to Cambridge, and did not return to Mount Vernon till after the peace of 1783, except in a single instance. In December, she proceeded to Cambridge, and joined her husband. Here she remained till spring, having witnessed the siege and evacuation of Boston. She then returned to Virginia.

During the war, it was the custom for the general to despatch an aid-de-camp to Mount Vernon, at the close of each campaign, to escort his wife to head-quarters. The arrival of Lady Washington, as she was now called, at the camp, was an event always anticipated with pleasure, and was the signal for the ladies of the general officers to join their husbands. The appearance of the aid-de-camp, escorting the plain family chariot, with the neat postilions in their scarlet and white liveries, was deemed an epoch in the army, and served to diffuse a cheering influence even amid the gloom which hung over our destinies, at Valley Forge, Morristown, and West Point. She always remained at head-quarters till the opening of the campaign, and she often remarked, in after life, that it had been her fortune to hear the first cannon at the opening, and the last at the closing, of the several campaigns of the war.

During the whole period of the revolutionary struggle, she preserved her equanimity, together with a degree of cheerfulness which inspired all around her with the brightest hopes of final success. The glorious results of the campaign of 1781 were, however, associated with an event most afflictive to her. John Custis, now her only child, had accompanied Washington to the siege of Boston, and had witnessed the most important events of the contest. At Yorktown, he was one of the aids of Washington, and lived to see the surrender of the British army on the 19th of October; but he died soon after of camp fever, which was then raging to a frightful extent within the enemy’s intrenchments.

The war being closed, Washington returned to Mount Vernon. His time was now occupied in the peaceful pursuits of private life. He cultivated his lands, and improved his residence at Mount Vernon by additional buildings, and the laying out of his gardens and grounds. He occasionally diversified his employments by the pleasures of the chase. Much of his time, however, was occupied in discharging the grateful duties of hospitality. His fame was spread far and wide, and his home was crowded with guests, among whom were often seen illustrious strangers from foreign lands. During this happy period, Mrs. Washington performed the duties of a Virginia housewife, and presided at her well-spread board, with an ease and elegance of manner suited to her character and station.

The period at length arrived when Washington was again to leave his home, and enter upon public duties. Being elected president of the United States, he set out, in the spring of 1789, to join Congress at New York, then the seat of the general government. Accompanied by his lady, he proceeded to that city, every where received by crowds of people, showering upon him their most grateful homage. At Trenton, New Jersey, he was received in a manner which is said to have affected him even to tears. In addition to the usual military compliments, the bridge over the creek running through the town was covered with a triumphal arch, supported by thirteen pillars, entwined and ornamented with flowers and laurel, and bearing on the front, in large gilt letters, this inscription: —

Here were assembled the mothers and daughters dressed in white, each bearing a basket of flowers, which were strewn before the chief, while they sang it chorus,

Arrived at New York, the president’s establishment was formed upon a scale partaking at once of simplicity and dignity. “The house was handsomely furnished; the equipages neat, with horses of the first order; the servants wore the family liveries; and, with the exception of a steward and housekeeper, the whole establishment differed very little from that of a private gentleman. On Tuesdays, from three to four o’clock, the president received the foreign ambassadors and strangers who wished to be introduced to him. On these occasions, and when opening the session of Congress, he wore a dress sword. His personal apparel was always remarkable for being old-fashioned, and exceedingly plain and neat.

“On Thursdays were the congressional dinners, and on Friday night, Mrs. Washington’s drawing-room. The company usually assembled about seven, and rarely staid exceeding ten o’clock. The ladies were seated, and the president passed round the circle, paying his compliments to each. At the drawing-rooms, Mrs. Morris always sat at the right of the lady president, and at all dinners, public or private, at which Robert Morris was a guest, that venerable man was placed at the right of Mrs. Washington. When ladies called at the president’s mansion, the habit was for the secretaries and gentlemen of the president’s household to hand them to and from their carriages; but when the honored relicts of Greene and Montgomery came, the president himself performed these complimentary duties.

“On the great national festivals of the fourth of July and twenty-second of February, the sages of the revolutionary Congress and the officers of the revolutionary army renewed their acquaintance with Mrs. Washington. Many and kindly greetings took place, with many a recollection of the days of trial. The members of the Society of Cincinnatus, after paying their respects to the chief, were seen to file off towards the parlor, where Lady Washington was in waiting to receive them, and where Wayne, and Mifflin, and Dickenson, and Stewart, and Moylan, and Hartley, and a host of veterans, were cordially welcomed as old friends, and where many an interesting reminiscence was called up, of the head-quarters and the ‘times of the revolution.’

“On Sundays, unless the weather was uncommonly severe, the president and Mrs. Washington attended divine service at Christ Church; and in the evenings, the president read to Mrs. Washington, in her chamber, a sermon, or some portion of the sacred writings. No visitors, with the exception of Mr. Trumbull, of Connecticut, – who was then speaker of the house, and afterwards governor of Connecticut, – were admitted on Sunday.

“There was one description of visitors, however, to be found about the first president’s mansion, on all days. The old soldiers repaired, as they said, to head-quarters, just to inquire after the health of his excellency and Lady Washington. They knew his excellency was, of course, much engaged; but they would like to see the good lady. One had been a soldier of the life-guard; another had been on duty, when the British threatened to surprise the head-quarters; a third had witnessed that terrible fellow, Cornwallis, surrender his sword; each one had some touching appeal, with which to introduce himself at the peaceful head-quarters of the president. All were ‘kindly bid to stay,’ were conducted to the steward’s apartments, and refreshments set before them; and, after receiving some little token from the lady, with her best wishes for the health and happiness of an old soldier, they went their ways, while blessings upon their revered commander and the good Lady Washington were uttered by many a war-worn veteran of the revolution.”3

In the autumn of 1789, General Washington made a tour to the Eastern States. Soon after his return, Mrs. Washington addressed a letter to Mrs. Warren, of Boston, giving an account of her views and feelings at that period, which, as it is interesting for the information it contains, and alike creditable to the head and heart of the writer, we present to the reader. It is dated December 26th, 1789.

“Your very friendly letter of last month has afforded much more satisfaction than all the formal compliments and empty ceremonies of mere etiquette could possibly have done. I am not apt to forget the feelings which have been inspired by my former society with good acquaintances, nor to be insensible to their expressions of gratitude to the president; for you know me well enough to do me the justice to believe that I am fond only of what comes from the heart. Under a conviction that the demonstrations of respect and affection to him originate in that source, I cannot deny that I have taken some interest and pleasure in them. The difficulties which first presented themselves to view on his first entering upon the presidency, seem thus to be in some measure surmounted. It is owing to the kindness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my new and unwished-for situation is not indeed a burden to me. When I was much younger, I should probably have enjoyed the innocent gayeties of life as much as most persons of my age; but I had long since placed all the prospects of my future happiness in the still enjoyments of the fireside at Mount Vernon.

“I little thought, when the war was finished, that any circumstances could possibly happen, which would call the general into public life again. I had anticipated that, from that moment, we should be suffered to grow old together in solitude and tranquillity. That was the first and dearest wish of my heart. I will not, however, contemplate with too much regret, disappointments that were inevitable, though his feelings and my own were in perfect unison with respect to our predilection for private life. Yet I cannot blame him for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country. The consciousness of having attempted to do all the good in his power, and the pleasure of finding his fellow-citizens so well satisfied with the disinterestedness of his conduct, will, doubtless, be some compensation for the great sacrifices which I know he has made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon to this place in his late tour through the Eastern States, by every public and every private information which has come to him, I am persuaded he has experienced nothing to make him repent his having acted from what he conceived to be a sense of indispensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility has been awakened in receiving such repeated and unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his countrymen.

“With respect to myself, I sometimes think the arrangement is not quite as it ought to have been, – that I, who had much rather be at home, should occupy a place with which a great many younger and gayer women would be extremely pleased. As my grandchildren and domestic connections make up a great portion of the felicity which I looked for in this world, I shall hardly be able to find any substitute that will indemnify me for the loss of a part of such endearing society. I do not say this because I feel dissatisfied with my present station; for every body and every thing conspire to make me as contented as possible in it; yet I have learned too much of the vanity of human affairs to expect felicity from the scenes of public life. I am still determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions, and not on our circumstances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other about with us in our minds wherever we go.

“I have two of my grandchildren with me, who enjoy advantages in point of education, and who, I trust, by the goodness of Providence, will be a great blessing to me. My other two grandchildren are with their mother in Virginia.”

In the spring of 1797, bidding adieu to public life, Washington took leave of the seat of government, and returned to Mount Vernon, prepared in good earnest to spend the remainder of his days in retirement. He accepted, indeed, the command of the army of the United States, soon after; but this did not draw him from his home. In 1799, he died, after a brief illness. His affectionate partner was at the bedside when his spirit departed. “It is all over now,” said she. “I shall soon follow him. I have no more trials to pass through.” About two years after, she was seized with bilious fever. Being perfectly aware that her end was at hand, she assembled her grandchildren at her bedside, discoursed with them of their duties in life, of the happy influences of religion, of the consolations it had afforded her in hours of affliction, and the hopes it offered of a blessed immortality; and then, surrounded by weeping relatives, friends, and domestics, the venerable relict of Washington resigned her life into the hands of her Creator, in the seventy-first year of her age.

Few women have figured in the great drama of life, amid scenes so varied and imposing, with so few faults, and so many virtues, as Martha Washington. Identified with the Father of his country in the great events which led to our national independence, she partook much of his thoughts, views, and counsels. In the dark hours of trial, her cheerfulness soothed his anxieties, and her devotional piety aided him in drawing hope and confidence from Heaven. She was indeed the fit partner of Washington, and, in her sphere, appears to have discharged her duties with a dignity, devotion, and consistency, worthy of her exalted destinies.

MADAME DE STAEL

Jacques Necker, born of Protestant parents at Geneva, was sent, at the age of fifteen, to seek his fortune at Paris. After serving as a clerk in the banking-house of Vernet, he passed into that of the eminent banker Thelusson, where he displayed such a capacity for business, as to lead to his admission into the house as a partner. In a few years he acquired a large fortune, and withdrew from active business, but remained at Paris as minister of the republic of Geneva to the French court. His “Eloge de Colbert,” which gained the prize in the French Academy in 1773, and his essay on the corn laws, first drew towards him the attention of the public, which finally settled upon him as the only person capable of preserving the country from that bankruptcy upon the verge of which it was standing; and Louis XVI., notwithstanding his religious bigotry, was compelled to appoint Necker to the office of director-general of the finances, in 1785, being the first Protestant who had held office since the revocation of the edict of Nantes.

There resided with Madame Thelusson, as companion, a Swiss lady, named Curchod, the same who had the fortune to excite in the bosom of the historian Gibbon, for the first and last time, the passion of love. There is, however, no undue praise in the following description which he has given of her: “The personal attractions of Mdlle. Curchod were embellished by the virtues and talents of her mind. Her fortune was humble, but her family was respectable. Her mother, a native of France, had preferred her religion to her country. Her father, with the moderation of a philosopher, was content with a small salary and laborious duty in the obscure lot of minister of Cressy, a small village in the mountains of Switzerland. He bestowed a liberal and even learned education on his only daughter. She surpassed his hopes by her proficiency in the sciences and languages; and in her short visits to Lausanne, the wit, the beauty, and the learning, of Mademoiselle Curchod were the theme of universal applause. The report of such a prodigy awakened my curiosity; I saw and loved. I found her learned without pedantry, witty in conversation, pure in sentiment, and elegant in manners.” After the death of her father, she supported herself and her mother by teaching young ladies at Geneva; from whence she removed to Paris.

The character of Necker gained her admiration, her respect, and her love. She married him; and, from that time, the great business of her life was to make him happy. To divert him after the cares of business, she sought to make her house agreeable. She had not the light and gay manners of a Parisian lady, but she had a native grace and sweetness, and a solidity of talent, which caused her society to be sought for by the learned and intelligent, and her drawing-rooms to be filled with the beaux esprits of Paris.

Her only daughter, Anne Louisa Germaine, born in 1766, became her next object of solicitude. She wished that her education should be perfect; she wished her to know every thing, and thought that her mind could not be stored with too many words and facts; she introduced her, even in infancy, to the brilliant circle of her own friends, and learned men were almost her only companions. It was therefore with a transport of delight that the child received, at the age of eleven, a young girl, whom her mother wished her to make her companion, and who afterwards described her thus: “She spoke with a warmth and facility which were already eloquent, and which made a great impression on me. We did not play like children. She at once asked me what my lessons were, if I knew any foreign languages, and if I went often to the play. When I said, I had only been three or four times, she exclaimed, and promised that we should often go together, and, when we came home, write down an account of the piece. It was her habit, she said; and, in short, we were to write to each other every day. We entered the drawing-room. Near the arm-chair of Madame Necker was the stool of her daughter, who was obliged to sit very upright. As soon as she had taken her accustomed place, three or four old gentlemen came up, and spoke to her with the utmost kindness. One of them, in a little round wig, took her hands in his, held them a long time, and entered into conversation with her, as if she had been twenty. This was the Abbé Raynal; the others were Messrs. Marmontel, Thomas, the Marquis de Pesay, and Baron de Grimm. We sat down at table. It was a picture to see how Mademoiselle Necker listened. She did not speak herself; but so animated was her face, that she appeared to converse with all. Her eyes followed the looks and movements of those who talked; it seemed as if she grasped their ideas before they were expressed. She entered into every subject, even politics, which at this epoch was one of the most engrossing topics. After dinner, a good deal of company arrived. Each guest, as he approached Madame Necker, addressed her daughter with some compliment or pleasantry; she replied to all with ease and grace. They delighted to attack and embarrass her, and to excite her childish imagination, which was already brilliant. The cleverest men were those who took the greatest pleasure in making her talk.” When she was not in society, she was kept constantly at her books. She wrote a great deal, and her writings were read in public and applauded. This system of education had its natural results. Praise, and reputation, and success in society, became as necessary to her as her daily food: her understanding, brilliant, but not profound, gathered knowledge by cursory reading and from conversation – not by hard study; hence it was superficial.