ASCENDING by the broad staircase, which turns at a right-angle half way up, we find ourselves on the second floor of the Mount Vernon Mansion.
Here again are things of interest, and emotions are stirred as we recall the history of some of the great ones of earth who have come upon the scene, and long since passed away. Even as autumn leaves before the blast, they have been swept away; and so it is, as more and more we are made to know, “passing away” is written on all things here below.
Now we are at the door of a neat chamber called the “La Fayette room,” which was doubtless set aside for the Marquis when he was a guest at the Washington mansion. And here, at the south rod of the building, with windows looking out on a fine portion of the beautiful grounds, is Washington’s room. The bedstead on which he died occupies our attention. It is large and nearly square, and has high posts, around which are gracefully draped some neat white curtains. This bedstead, with its quaint, but pretty draping’s, is a pattern of the numerous other bedsteads in the various chambers of the mansion, though it is extra-large in size. Beside it stands a chair on which, at the moment of Washington’s death, lay the open Bible from which his wife had been reading to him.
After he passed away, this chamber was closed, to be left vacant for three years, according to a custom they then had; this led Mrs. Washington to occupy the room directly above, which she chose because its dormer window over-looked the grave of her husband. It was in this room she died, some months before the three years had expired. In Washington’s room is a haircloth “coach-chest” or trunk, which bears the initials G. W. and date 1775, also some chair cushions, embroidered by Mrs. Washington.
But let us look a little further on the second floor. We come to Nellie Custis’ room, which contains a smaller bedstead than is found in the other rooms, but nicely curtained. We must not linger, and so pass on to the “River room,” which looks out over the beautiful Potomac. Next we come to the “Green room,” which overlooks the fine lawn on the west. In one of the window panes of this room, Eliza P. Curtis cut, with a diamond, more than a hundred years ago, her name and the date, Aug. 2, 1792, and it is still there.
Now we are at the “West Virginia” room: we note the neat and appropriate furnishings of each room, as we make the round, and the old-fashioned fire-places with their andirons and fenders specially attract our attention. We find them on the first, second and third stories in each room, for they did not then have large stoves, or furnaces to heat their houses, as we do now.
Again we are made to realize, as we pass from room to room, that all the glory of man is as the flower of the grass. All the prominence to which Washington attained could not lengthen his life for one day. All his deeds of valor, all his faithful service to his country could give no power to stay the hand of the fell-destroyer when the appointed hour had come. Where now are General Washington, Lady, Washington, Nellie Custis, La Fayette, and others, who occupied the rooms into which we have been looking? They are gone—all gone! —for, as it is written, “All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field.” The grass must wither; the flower must fade; even the heavens and earth must pass away: but— “the word of our God shall stand forever.” You will see from this the enduring character of God’s word. May you, my young reader, allow it to have its true place, and may it form your life and ways. Then, come life, or come death, all will be well with you, and an eternity of joy will be yours.
Another time we may look into the attic of Washington’s old home.
ML 06/26/1904