George Washington's Love Affairs

He Was Not a Success with Ladies, Till He Met the Widow Custis

In a paper recently read by Chauncey M. Depew in New York, at the reception of the Original Society of Colonial Dames of America, the following account is noted of Washington's social life:

Washington was intensely human as he was supremely great. He loved women, he was fond of sport, he was a great hunter, he was the best horseman of his age, he delighted in balls and parties and was a gallant dancer, he traveled hundreds of miles to witness a trial of speed between famous horses, and in common with the universal habit of his time took his chances in the lottery. While never a drunkard or intemperate in any way, he was a free liver and a generous and jovial host. He seems to have been unhappy in his earlier love scrapes. He was 6 feet 2 inches high, straight as an arrow, perfectly formed, except that he had phenomenally large hands and feet, and his face was pockmarked with the smallpox which he caught at the Barbadoes. The Colonial girl flirted recklessly with him, but never seemed to fall in love with him. He writes to one of his correspondents a letter from Lord Fairfax's, in which he says:

"My place of residence is at present at his lordship's, where I might, were my heart disengaged, pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable young lady lives in the same house, but as that is only adding fuel to the fire, it makes me the more uneasy, for by often and unavoidably being in company with her revives my former passion for your lowland beauty, whereas were I to live more retired from young women I might in some measure alleviate my sorrows by burying that which is a troublesome passion in the grave of oblivion or eternal forgetfulness, for, as I am very well assured, that is the only antidote or remedy that I shall be relieved by or only recess that can administer any cure or help to me."

Who was this "lowland beauty?" is a mooted question which probably can never be decided. It has been discovered that he paid earnest attention to and his heart was deeply touched by Lucy Grymes, Mary Bland, Betsy Fauntleroy and Alice Fairfax. Of all these he was absorbed in and devoted to Betsy Fauntleroy. He worshiped at her shrine for several years, until a rival carried her off.

Washington was the most industrious of correspondents, and in his letters revealed his most secret passions and desires. But, though we know how tenderly he loved and how long he grieved over the loss of Betsy Fauntleroy, we are still in doubt as to who was the lowland beauty who seemed to take possession of his heart as soon as the charmer of the house was driven or retired from its portals.

Alas for Betsy. She failed to forecast the future, and as the wife of a Virginia planter lived to see her rejected lover become the greatest man of that or any other age. Washington became more popular with the ladies after his return from Braddock's defeat and the massacre. In that battle he had two horses shot under him, and four bullets through his uniform, and had held his Virginia regiment steady when the veteran red-coated British soldiers had all run away. When he returned, the hero of the hour, every Virginia house sent invitations to the gallant young soldier to come and visit. He was here and there, and everywhere, but his heart was mortgaged beyond redemption to the proud beauty who would not smile upon him. One of these letters of welcome to him is from the Fairfax home. Three young ladies in the house party, write him this letter, which shows his new-born popularity from Braddock's bloody field:

"Dear Sir — After thanking heaven for your safe return. I must accuse you of great unkindness in refusing us the pleasure of seeing you this night. I do assure you that nothing but our being satisfied that our company would be disagreeable should prevent us from trying if our legs would not carry us to Mount Vernon this night. But if you will not come to us to-morrow morning very early, we shall be at Mount Vernon. Sally Fairfax, Ann Spearing, Elizabeth Dent."

From the home of the Randolphs came another invitation, closing with the message that "Mrs. Cary and Miss Randolph join in wishing you that sort of glory which will most endear you to the fair sex."

In order to settle the question of the regularity of his commission as Colonel, Washington made a journey to Boston. Beverly Robinson, a Virginian, had married Susana Phillips, a daughter of Frederick Phillips, the patron of the great manor by the Croton. Robinson entertained his friend, now famous because of his gallantry at Fort Duquesne, at his house, and induced his wife to have her sister, Mary Phillips, as a guest at the same time. Here Washington's susceptible heart was subject to an entirely different charm from the English ladies in the Barbadoes, or the lovely Virginians of his native state. It was the metropolitan girl — the New Yorker — as typical then as now — self-possessed, traveled, with the experience of several seasons in the society of the largest city of the country, familiar with the attention of British officers and titled fortune hunters, a beauty and an heiress. The type was new to Washington, and he fell madly in love. But the proud and finical New York belle saw too many of the woodsman and the Indian fighter to allure her from the refinements of the metropolis to the seclusion of plantation life, and so she gave her hand and heart to Lieut. Col. Roger Morris, to become, with her Tory husband, during the revolutionary war, a fugitive to England, while Washington, in the fortunes of revolution, made their house his headquarters during the campaign in New York.

Washington, however, two years after the Mary Phillips incident, met at a country house Mrs. Martha Dandridge Custis. She was a widow, 26 years of age, and seven months of sorrow. She not only belonged to one of the most distinguished families, but she was the wealthiest woman in the colony of Virginia. Her sorrow was alleviated by the presence of two little angel Custises, Jack and Nellie. Washington wrote to his physician before arriving at this country house in very bad health, that he considered himself a doomed man, and that he was expecting very soon his "decay." This was on March 5, 1758. But the sick man left this hospitable home at Williamsburg on April 1, entirely recovered in health and engaged to the beautiful widow. We know very little of Mrs. Washington except that she was petite, a brunette, very pretty, and could not spell. Washington destroyed all her letters to him on this account. Most of her letters which are in existence were written by Washington and copied by her. But she proved a good wife. She was a born lady and had all the high instincts of a thoroughbred. Jefferson and Madison and Hamilton, who had met her, all seemed to be impressed with her limited educational attainments, and equally impressed with her perfect good breeding. Washington never wandered in his affection for her, and always alluded to her as the partner of all his domestic enjoyments. They lived happily together for forty years. In his last illness he lay for four hours at night with that chill which killed him, because he would not wake his wife and have her get up in the cold. This consideration for her put him almost beyond help when morning came.

He was the most attentive of husbands. Fearing she might overwork herself with the multitude of guests that thronged Mount Vernon, he secured a housekeeper. He saved her the trouble of ordering her own clothes to a large extent. He was a martinet on appearances, and extremely particular, both as to his own clothes and as to hers. White satin and black velvet were his favorite materials for his own coats.

When Washington became General of the army, and the army went into winter quarters this good woman made the long and perilous journeys from her home in Mount Vernon and spent every winter in camp with her husband. At Valley Forge they lived in a hut. She not only looked after him, but presided with grace and dignity at the headquarters table, where his staff and every general officer were welcomed every day. By her kindness and attention to the sick soldiers she did much to prevent the discontent of the army under the great hardships which they endured, and to alleviate the sufferings of the ill and wounded. Both she and the General were passionately fond of dancing, During the war, at winter headquarters, they arranged assemblies on the subscription pattern, the same as those of Delmonico's, Waldorf and Sherry's, and they were called "assemblies." They had especially notable assemblies at Germantown, at Morristown and at Philadelphia. The Washingtons always arranged a winter assembly at Alexandria for the families of the country. Mrs. Washington did not care much for these festivities, but she sacrificed herself because these parties relieved her husband from the tremendous strain to which he was subject both as General of the armies during the revolution and as President of the United States during the formative period of the republic. It was not uncommon for Washington at these assemblies to dance from 10 o'clock until daylight. He was impartial, and tried to secure each lady in the room for a partner.

A Sailor and a Chow Dog

Printed Jan. 1908

At the hour when women were making afternoon calls one day last week a man attired in the uniform of a sailor in the navy attracted a good deal of attention in West Fifty-fourth street, New York, by something he carried under his right arm, a something that looked at first like a white bundle, but which, on closer inspection, proved to be a Chinese chow dog that the sailor was trying to sell.

The little animal was unusual enough in itself to catch the eyes of the women who stopped to speak to the sailor about it. But more unusual than that was the way in which the tiny pet was clothed as protection against the cold. He not only wore a coat with "sleeves" for his front and hind legs, but he also had his furry head covered with a veritable baby's hood, with a ruffle around the front of it, the cap being tied under his neck with red ribbons.

The "costume" attracted quite as much notice as the chow dog did so long as its owner remained in sight on the block.


Seeking Experience

Up to the age of 16 Dick had retained the proper scorn of things feminine. Then he went to dancing school and fell smitten by the charms of several youthful Eves. Accordingly, Dick approached his father and requested theater tickets for two.
Father complied and merely asked as he turned over the seats, "Which girl is it?"
"I'm going to take Mabel," responded Dick.
"Then she's the one you like best?" father continued.
Dick turned a superior and pitying eye upon his parent. "Oh, no! I don't like her best. You don't understand the situation, father. It isn't the girl I care about. It's the experience I want."

Maxims of a Modern Maid

1922

By Marguerite Mooers Marshall

In an emergency even a good woman will deceive the man she loves. But the emergency rarely arises — he is such an expert on deceiving himself.

The end of the honeymoon is timed for the moment when you realize that instead of loving your husband's bad puns you loathe them.

It must be so nice to be a man. Whenever anybody of the opposite sex puts a poser he can look particularly superior and say: "I'm afraid I couldn't explain so that you would understand."

Home is a vastly overestimated spot. Somebody is always using the bathtub or the morris chair or the telephone when you want it.

When a young man has not quite made up his mind about a girl, that simply means she has not yet got around to making it up for him.

Very young girls prefer the pack formation. When they are a little older they hunt in couples. But in the last, long, stern chase of man each woman is a lone wolf.

When a man believes that he can take a kiss or leave it alone he — as usual — proves he is free and independent by taking it.

"Look over your dressing and see what you can omit," advises a fashion expert. But hasn't the back-to-Eve movement gone about as far as Summer and the police will allow?

The measure of a man's respect for the flapper is said to be the smallest size made.

—April 2, 1922