In the Book Division of the Clements Library of the University of Michigan is a mock letter written from mother Britain to her daughter America. Published in 1778 by Matthew Darly, Britain asks America to put aside her recent French alliance: “So be a good girl, discharge your soldiers and ships of war and do not rebel against your mother. Rely upon me and do not consort to what that French rascal shall tell you.” The letter was written as a rebus, a puzzle in which pictures are used to represent words or parts of words. See what you can make of it. Reading “toe” as “to” and “eye” as “i” helps.

If you are stumped, here is a transcription provided by the book Rebellion and Reconciliation: Satirical Prints on the Revolution at Williamsburg.

(Britannia) (toe) Amer(eye)ca.
My (deer) Daughter (eye) (can)(knot) (bee)hold w(eye)thout (grate) pa(eye)n (ewer) (head)strong (back)-(ward)ness (toe) ret(urn) (toe) (ewer) Duty in (knot) op(posy)ing (awl) the good (eye) long (eye)ntended for (ewer) (sole) Hap(pie)ness & (bee)ing told t(hat) (eye) have g(eye)v’n (ewer) (hand) (toe) a (base) & (double-faced) (Frenchman) (Eye) have sent (yew) 5 over/wise (men) the (grate)est of (awl) my (child)ren (toe) put (yew) (toe) r(eye)ghts & (hope) (yew) w(eye)[ll] l(eye)s(ten) (toe) them & m(eye)nd w(hat) they say (toe) (yew) they have (eye)nstr(yew)et(eye)ons [instructions] (toe) g(eye)ve (yew) t(hose) th(eye)ngs (yew) (form)erly required. so (bee a good (girl) d(eye)scharge (ewer) (soldiers) & (ships) of war & (doe) (knot) re(bell) aga(eye)nst (ewer) (moth)er rely upon me & (doe)(knot) (console)t [consort] to w(hat) t(hat) french R(ass)c(awl) sh(awl) tell (yew) IC he w(ants) (toe) b(ring) on an enm(eye)ty (toe) (awl) (union) (bee)tween (yew) & (eye) (but) l(eye)s(ten) (knot) (toe) h(eye)m (awl) the (world) takes (knot)(eye)ce [notice) of h(eye)[s] (doubleface). I’ll send h(eye)m such MessaGG [messages] from my (grate) (gun)s as s[h](awl) make h(eye)s (heart) repent & know t(hat) (one) good or (eye)ll t(urn) mer(eye)ts a (knot)her.
NB let (knot) (eighty) [hate] take (two) much hold of (ewer) (heart).
(Eye) am (ewer) fr(eye)end & (moth)er.

The Clements Library of the University of Michigan produces a blog called Clements Library Chronicles. The rebus can be found on the December 11, 2012 POST.

Sickness, disease, and untimely death were an accepted part of life in eighteenth-century America. There are many references to the kinds of physical ailments that afflicted the typical family, among others: cuts, colds, fevers, burns, dysentery, sore throats, frostbite, whooping cough, and childbirth (called an illness)—these were usually dealt with by the woman of the house. Little, however, has been found in letters and diaries about mental disabilities, perhaps out of fear or shame.

It is unclear what afflicted John Jay’s oldest brother Augustus (1730-1801), known as Gussy. His name rarely appears in the voluminous correspondence of the Jay family, but, when it does, usually as “poor Guss.” From a young age, Augustus was boarded out, and learned to read and write; he seems to have been an amiable soul. From Madrid, John Jay wrote to his brother Frederick (13 February 1782): “Remember poor Guss. Make his Life comfortable. If necessary I will furnish the Means.” Frederick replied from Poughkeepsie, New York in August: “Gussy continues to behave well and remains at Kingston.” Supported by his family, Augustus seems to have been able to live fairly independently. From New York, Sarah Jay wrote to her husband John in London (11 October 1794): “Since I’ve been writing your brother Augustus has come in, he is delighted with your attention, tho’ he has not yet seen your letter.”

In our research for In the Words of Women we came across more examples of mental disabilities. Sarah Kast McGinn (ca. 1717-1791) lived in the Mohawk Valley, spoke the languages of the Native Americans of the Six Nations, and served as an intermediary between them and the British during the Revolutionary War. In her petition to the Crown in 1787, she recounted [in the third person] her services and tragic loss:

The Rebels have destroyed, plundered and taken almost all her Property, because they alledged and not without reason that she was tampering with the Indians in favour of Government. … She made her escape to [the British army] with her Family except a Son [16-year-old William] who she was obliged to leave to their Mercy, who was out of his Sences and bound in Chains, as he had been for several Years, and sometime afterwards was burn’d alive in said Situation.

In her diary, Elizabeth Porter Phelps (1747-1817) in Amherst, Massachusetts, made occasional comments about an afflicted family member and his treatment:

January 4, 1781. … Brother Solomon began to grow crazzy. Thursday young Mrs. Allixander a visit here. Fryday Mrs. Trowbridge and Becca Dickinson a visit here. Brother worse—Mauled his sore Head with an Ax. Satterday chained.
Jan. 14 … Sol better—Let loose. …
Oct. 27 [1782]. … Wednesday Sol. put into the shop chained there. Satterday my Husband gone, Sol got Loose—soon come home. Sol hurt none of us—praised be God. …
Nov. 30. … my Husband and I rode into town to do some errands. Sol. came home with us he is crazzy. …
Apr. 15 [1787]. … Wednesday I a visit at Mr. Shipmans—when I came home found Brother Solomon here crazy.

Henrietta Marchant Liston (1752-1828) and her husband Robert, the second British Minister to the United States after the War, made many trips along the East Coast during their stay. On January 15, 1798, traveling through Camden, South Carolina, Mrs. Liston discovered a more sympathetic attitude toward the mentally disabled on their visit to a chief of the Catawba Nation:

[W]e found the old Warrior sitting in a Chair, at the side of the fire, with a blanket jacket,—his Wife, or as the Interpreter styled her,—his Lady, sat on a stool, with a Savage look, squalid & nasty, a woolen Petticoat, & a Blanket about her naked shoulders, her long black hair hanging loose—At one corner of the fire, & within the Chimney, squatted in form figure & posture a large ape, blind, & playing on his teeth with his fingers,—this shocking spectacle was it seems an idiot almost naked & a quantity of hair hanging over its face—for with this nation, as with some more civilized—these unfortunate objects are not only held sacred, /which perhaps they ought to be everywhere/ but it is esteemed fortunate to have one in your family.

References to Guss appear in The Selected Letters of John Jay & Sarah Livingston Jay, pages 103, 121, 233. The petition of Sarah Kast McGinn is quoted on page 86 of In the Words of Women. Elizabeth Porter Phelps’s comments can be found in the Porter-Phelps-Huntington Family Papers, Amherst College, Massachusetts. The description of the aged Catawban is in the Travel Diaries of Henrietta Liston, unpublished, Library of Scotland, Edinburgh; microfilms at the Library of Congress.

I seem to be in a Washington mode and continue to be fascinated by the advice about marriage in general, and prospective matches in particular, given by Martha and George to young people in their care. Frances “Fanny” Bassett, the daughter of Martha’s deceased sister, came to live at Mount Vernon in 1784 when she was seventeen years old. There she became acquainted with George Washington’s nephew, George Augustine Washington, a widower with two children, who helped run the farm. Fanny and George Augustine fell in love and applied to Fanny’s father, Burwell Bassett, for permission to marry.

George Washington wrote to Fanny’s father explaining how he dealt with such matters: “It has ever been a maxim with me, through life, neither to promote, nor to prevent a matrimonial connection, unless there should be something, indispensably requiring interference in the latter. I have always considered Marriage as the most interesting event of ones life. The foundation of happiness or misery. … therefore neither directly, nor indirectly have I ever said a syllable to Fanny, or George, upon the Subject of their intended connection: but as their attachment to each other seems of early growth, warm, & lasting, it bids fair for happiness. If therefore you have no objec[tion,] I think, the sooner it is consummated the better.”

The couple married and remained at Mount Vernon, George Augustine managing the farm and Fanny helping her aunt run the household. Sadly George Augustine died in 1793. Tobias Lear, a widower who served as private secretary to Washington, courted Fanny. Unsure of herself Fanny appealed to her aunt for advice. Martha’s reply is interesting in that while she supplies much information about Lear, his character and prospects, she declines to give a straightforward answer leaving the choice to her niece.

My dear Fanny, I wish I could give you unerring advise in regard to the request contained in your last letter; I really dont know what to say to you on the subject; you must be governed by your own judgement, and I trust providence will derect you for the best; it is a matter more interesting to yourself than any other[.] The person contemplated is a worthy man, esteemed by every one that is aquainted with him; he has, it is concieved, fair prospects before him;—is, I belive, very industri[ous] and will, I have not a doubt, make sumthing handsome for himself.—as to the President, he never has, nor never will, as you have often heard him say, inter meddle in matrimonial concerns. he joins with me however in wishing you every happyness this world can give.—you have had a long acquaintance with Mr Lear, and must know him as well as I do.—he always appeared very attentive to his wife and child, as farr as ever I have seen; he is I believe, a man of strict honor and probity; and one with whom you would have as good a prospect of happyness as with any one I know; but beg you will not let anything I say influence you either way. The President has a very high opinion of and friendship for Mr. Lear; and has not the least objection to your forming the connection but, no more than myself, would wish to influence your judgement, either way—yours and the childrens good being among the first wishes of my heart.

Fanny and Tobias married but their union was short-lived. Fanny died in 1796, probably of tuberculosis. She had two children by George Augustine and one by Tobias.

The letter of George Washington to Burwell Bassett, 23 May 1785, can be found at the University of Virginia’s “The Papers of George Washington.” The portrait of Fanny was painted by Robert Edge Pine at Mount Vernon in 1785. Courtesy Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association. Martha’s letter to Fanny, 29 August 1794, is also at the University of Virginia.

In the hope that readers might enjoy some additional information about Eleanor “Nelly” Parke Custis, herewith the following. A family portrait with Eleanor and her brother George Washington Parke Custis on the left.

Since Nelly was raised at Mount Vernon she knew her step grandfather’s habits firsthand.

He rose before sunrise, always wrote or read until 7 in summer or half past seven in winter. His breakfast was then ready—he ate three small mush cakes (Indian meal) swimming in butter and honey, and drank three cups of tea without cream.

Dubbed “hoecakes,” the Indian meal pancakes were so named because they were made on a griddle or hoe. Nelly even included the recipe in a letter she wrote.

The bread business is as follows if you wish to make 2 1/2 quarts of flour up-take at night one quart of flour, five table spoonfuls of yeast & as much lukewoarm water as will make it the consistency of pancake batter, mix it in a large stone pot & set it near a warm hearth (or a moderate fire) make it at candlelight & let it remain until the next morning then add the remaining quart & a half by degrees with a spoon when well mixed let it stand 15 or 20 minutes & then bake it – of this dough in the morning, beat up a white & half of the yolk of an egg – add as much lukewarm water as will make it like pancake batter, drop a spoonful at a time on a hoe or griddle (as we say in the south). When done on one side turn the other – the griddle must be rubbed in the first instance with a piece of beef suet or the fat of cold corned beef …

A modern adaptation of this recipe can be found here.

Nelly was a well educated young lady, taught mostly by tutors, although she did attend a fashionable school for a time in New York City when the family resided there during George Washington’s presidency. She received lessons in music and art and was expected to play this harpsichord for guests at Mount Vernon. She wrote to Elizabeth Bordley in 1797:

When my Harpsichord comes, I shall practice a great deal, & and make my Sister sing your parts of our Duetts. I think you had better come here to sing them with me. I do not despair of seeing you, & I shall be very much disappointed if you do not visit us.

When Nelly married Lawrence Lewis, Washington gave the couple some property on the grounds of Mount Vernon on which their home Woodlawn was built. Expanded to more than 2,000 acres, the plantation at one point had 100 workers of whom at least 90 were slaves. In 1952, the house and 126 acres became the first historic site owned by the National Trust.

Washington at Home lithograph, 1867, engraved by Henry Bryan after painting by Alonzo Chappel in the George Washington Collection of Washington College; recipe and photograph for hoecakes is at Mount Vernon; Nelly Custis’s harpsichord can be seen at Mount Vernon; the photograph of Woodlawn can be found here.

In spite of her vow to remain a spinster, Eleanor “Nelly” Parke Custis admitted to her friend Elizabeth Bordley in February of 1799 that she was smitten and soon to be married to Lawrence Lewis. The son of George Washington’s sister was a thirty-year-old widower whose wife had died in childbirth seven years earlier. He had taken up residence at Mount Vernon in 1798 to help deal with the ex-president’s many visitors. Well placed to court the lovely Nelly, Lewis made his case successfully.

Mount Vernon February 3rd 1799My dearest Eliza,
Cupid, a small mischeivous Urchin, who has been trying sometime to humble my pride, took me by surprise, when I thought of nothing less than him, & in the very moment that I had (after mature consideration) made the sage and prudent resolve of passing through life, as a prim starched Spinster, to the great edification of my Friends [her grandparents] in particular, & the public in general—when I had abused & defied him, & thought my Heart impenetrable he slyly called in Lawrence Lewis to his aid, & transfixed me with a Dart, before I knew where I was. It was sometime I assure you before I could reconcile myself to giving up my favourite scheme, but resistance was vain, I had to contend with perseverance & at last was obliged to submit & bind myself to become that old fashioned thing called a Wife & now, strange as it may seem—I am perfectly reconciled & neither think “the day evil, or the Hour unlucky,” that witnessed my solemn promise to become Mrs. Lewis, & take said Lawrence for better or worse.
That promise will soon be ratifyed—the 22nd of this month is the day which will fix my future destiny. My present prospects are the most pleasing. The Man I have chosen to watch over my future happiness, is in every respect calculated to ensure it.

Married on her grandfather’s birthday, Eleanor gave birth to a daughter in November, shortly before the president’s death. Life did not turn out as Nelly had hoped. By 1804 she had lost her beloved grandmother and two children. The once vivacious and fun-loving young woman wrote to Elizabeth Bordley: “I look back with sorrow, & to the future without hope.” Her marriage appears not to have been a happy one. Lawrence proved to be a poor manager and their finances deteriorated. Nelly told her friend Elizabeth that she had given up music and painting for “Pickling, preserving, & puddings. … Indeed I am become a very humdrum character.” By 1839, in addition to her husband, seven of her eight children had died. An embittered woman, she went to live on the estate of her son Lorenzo, where she died in 1852. Little note was made of her passing.

The letter appears on page 186 of In the Words of Women. Nelly”s remarks regarding her later life are from “George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly” by Donald Jackson, American Heritage, February 1977, Volume 28, Issue 2. The portrait is by John Beale Bordley, 1841, after one he painted in 1832, seven years before Lewis’s death. Courtesy of Kenmore Association, Fredericksburg, Virginia.