In silence and tears they embraced each other, with that tender, mutual pledge of undying love--a kiss.
"G.o.d has answered my prayers, George, and I praise Him that I see your face again," she said.
"Yes, my dear mother, G.o.d has indeed heard your prayers, and the thought that you were interceding for me at the throne of grace was always an inspiration to me," answered the son.
"How changed, George!" the mother remarked, scanning his face closely, and noticing that he had grown old rapidly. "You bear the marks of war."
"True, men grow old fast in war," the son replied; "but my health is good, and rest and peace will soon make me as good as new."
"For that I shall devoutly pray," Mrs. Washington responded.
For an hour, and more, the conversation continued, the mother making many inquiries concerning his health and future plans, the prospects of peace and prosperity to the country, and kindred subjects; but she did not drop a single word respecting his fame.
The inhabitants of Fredericksburg and vicinity immediately arranged for a grand military ball in honor of Gen. Washington and his staff. Such an occasion would furnish a favorable opportunity for the members of Washington"s staff to meet his mother.
At that time, as now, it was customary for military and civic leaders to allow their joy over happy occasions to ooze out through their heels. We are unable to explain the phenomenon; but the fact remains, that a ball on a grand scale was planned, to which Washington"s mother was specially invited. Her reply to the flattering invitation was characteristic.
"Although my dancing days are pretty well over, I shall be most happy to contribute what I can to the general festivity."
Mrs. Washington was then over seventy years of age.
It was the gayest a.s.sembly ever convened in Virginia at that time, and perhaps the occasion was the merriest. Gay belles and dignified matrons graced the occasion, arrayed in rich laces and bright brocades, the well preserved relics of scenes when neither national misfortune nor private calamity forbade their use.
In addition to Washington"s staff, many other military officers were present, all gorgeously dressed, contributing largely to the beauty and grandeur of the scene.
"But despite the soul-soothing charm of music," says a writer, "the fascinations of female loveliness, and the flattering devotion of the gallant brave, all was eager suspense and expectation, until there entered, unannounced and unattended, the mother of Washington, leaning on the arm of her son.
"The large audience at once paid their respects to the honored guests, the mother of the chief being the central figure of the occasion.
Washington presented American and European officers to his mother, who wore the simple but becoming and appropriate costume of the Virginia ladies of the olden time, while the sincere congratulations of the whole a.s.sembly were tendered to her."
The writer just quoted continues:
"The European strangers gazed long in wondering amazement upon the sublime and touching spectacle. Accustomed to the meretricious display of European courts, they regarded with astonishment her unadorned attire, and the mingled simplicity and majesty for which the language and manners of the mother of Washington were so remarkable."
When the clock struck nine, the venerable lady arose, and said:
"Come, George, it is time for old people to be at home."
Then expressing her gratification at being able to be present on so extraordinary an occasion, and wishing the company much joy, she retired, as she came, leaning on the arm of her son.
This picture of beautiful simplicity and absence of pride, in the midst of distinguished honors, contrasts finely with a scene in the life of another great general, Napoleon. On one occasion, when Napoleon gave audience to famous guests, together with several members of his family, his mother advanced towards him. According to a royal custom, the emperor extended his hand to her to kiss, as he had done when his brothers and sisters approached him.
"No," responded his mother; "you are the king, the emperor of all the rest, but you are _my son_."
Mrs. Washington was always actuated by a similar sense of propriety; and her demeanor towards the general seemed to say, "You are my son." And the general accepted that exhibition of maternal dignity and love as proper and honorable.
At the close of the Revolution, Lafayette, before leaving the country, visited Mrs. Washington at her home. One of her grandsons accompanied him to the house. As they approached, the grandson said, pointing to an old lady in the garden:
"There is my grandmother in the garden."
"Indeed!" answered Lafayette. "I am happy to find her able to be out."
Lafayette saluted her in his cordial way on coming up to her, when she replied:
"Ah, Marquis, you see an old woman; but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling without the parade of changing my dress."
"I come to bid you adieu before leaving the country," remarked Lafayette, when they were seated in the house. "I desired to see you once more."
"I a.s.sure you that nothing could afford me more real pleasure than to welcome once more to my home so distinguished a friend of my son and my country," Mrs. Washington answered.
"I congratulate you upon having such a son and such a country,"
continued Lafayette.
"I trust that I am grateful for both," Mrs. Washington replied.
"I rejoice with you in your son"s well-earned fame," continued the distinguished Frenchman, "and I am glad that you have lived to see this day."
Lafayette proceeded to rehea.r.s.e the patriotic deeds of Washington for his country, growing more and more enthusiastic in his praise as he continued, until finally Mrs. Washington remarked:
"_I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a good boy._"
Washington retired to his home at Mount Vernon at the close of the war, and earnestly entreated his mother to take up her abode with him.
"You are too aged and infirm to live alone," he said, "and I can have no greater pleasure than to have you in my family."
"I feel truly grateful for your kindness, George, but I enjoy my mode of life," she answered. "I think it is according to the direction of Providence."
"It would not be in opposition to Providence if you should come to live with me," responded Washington with a smile.
"Nevertheless, I must decline. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your interest and love, _but I feel fully competent to take care of myself_."
That settled the question, and she remained at Fredericksburg.
When Washington was elected President of the United States, he paid a farewell visit to his mother. He was about to depart for the seat of government, which was in New York City.
"I would gladly have avoided this responsibility for your sake, as well as mine," remarked Washington; "but Providence seemed to leave me no way of escape, and I have come to bid you an affectionate farewell."
"You are in the way of duty, George, and I have no desire to interpose,"
his mother answered. "My race is almost run, and I shall never see you again in the flesh."
"I hope we shall meet again; though at your great age, and with such a serious disease upon you, the end cannot be far away," replied the son.
Mrs. Washington was then eighty-three years of age, and was suffering from a cancer in the breast.
"Yes, I am old and feeble, and growing more so every day," continued his mother; "and I wait the summons of the Master without fear or anxiety."
Pausing a moment, as if to control emotion, she added, "Go, George, and fulfil the high destiny to which Providence calls you; and may G.o.d continue to guide and bless you!"
At this point let Mr. Custis speak: