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When my husband asked how I would like to celebrate my birthday this year, I replied with the only logical activity I could think of, adventuring! Nothing gets my heart pumping quite like a good adventure, especially one that comes together on the spur of the moment. So, with reservations quickly made, bags packed and loaded, we pointed the Jeep south and headed off, destination, Virginia.
Since we had just finished watching a documentary on George Washington, I found myself reacquainted with the man who would become the father of our nation. Mount Vernon seemed the perfect destination. I had visited many years ago, but with our nation celebrating the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States, it felt like the perfect time to return.
It is difficult to describe the feeling as you walk up the brick path, turn the corner and suddenly see it, the expansive Bowling Green stretching before you, with the striking Georgian-style mansion standing proudly on the hill overlooking the Potomac River. Interestingly, if I were to imagine George Washington as a house, I think he would look very much like Mount Vernon. Practical. Functional. Strong. Attractive. Welcoming. All characteristics I believe he possessed.
Perhaps that makes sense, since Washington himself designed the mansion and oversaw many of its improvements, despite having no formal architectural training. As I entered its halls, I was overcome with a feeling of privilege. My feet were walking where he had walked. His tall frame had passed through these very doorways. Plans and ideas discussed within these walls would ultimately shape the future of an entire nation. What an honor it was to stand in the shadow of his presence.
And what a sacrifice he made to leave this beautiful place for years at a time, to endure the hardships of war in the cause of independence and, later, to leave Mount Vernon once again to lead a young, struggling nation as its first president.
There were two particular things on the house tour that stayed with me. The first was the Key to the Bastille, the famous royal prison in France, given to Washington by his close friend, the Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette presented the key as a symbol of both Washington’s struggle for American independence and his own country’s struggle for freedom.
Lafayette was only 19 when he came to America to join the fight for independence. He deeply admired Washington, and the two developed a relationship that went far beyond military service. Washington became something of a father figure to the young Frenchman.
Today, the key is displayed prominently at Mount Vernon in a beautiful, gilded case. Who would have thought that such a small object, weighing only about a pound and a half, could carry such tremendous meaning? A key, after all, is meant to open something. This one seemed to symbolize the opening of a new chapter in history, the possibility that people could break free from oppression and govern themselves.
The second stop that touched me deeply was the bedroom of George and Martha Washington. Yes, you read that correctly. They shared a bedroom. During the colonial period, it was not unusual for wealthy couples to have separate bedrooms, yet George and Martha shared this space. I found myself wondering what that simple fact might tell us about their relationship. I like to think it speaks of closeness.
Martha certainly demonstrated her devotion to George during the Revolutionary War. Rather than remain safely at Mount Vernon, she spent winters visiting him at his military camps, enduring the hardships of army life alongside her husband. She could have remained behind in the comfort and safety of home, but she chose to be where George was.
There is another detail about their relationship that I found particularly touching. After George’s death, Martha destroyed much of their personal correspondence, apparently wanting their private letters to remain private. A small number of their letters survived, however, and through those surviving words, the affection between them was quite evident.
But that bedroom holds another, more somber significance. It was here, at Mount Vernon, that George Washington died in 1799 at the age of 67. Just days earlier, he had been out on horseback, riding around his estate and supervising the work on his beloved farm. The weather quickly deteriorated, with snow, hail and rain, and Washington returned to the house soaked to the skin. Accounts tell us that, unwilling to be late for dinner, he remained in his wet clothing rather than change before the meal. Soon afterward, he became seriously ill with a severe throat infection. His condition worsened rapidly, and within a few days, he was gone.
As I stood looking at the four-poster bed, I tried to imagine him lying there, surrounded by those who loved him, in the place where he had spent so much of his life building and protecting. And I couldn’t help but think of his last words, “Tis well.”
There is something profoundly moving about those two simple words. After a lifetime of service, sacrifice, leadership and responsibility, George Washington’s final moments took place not in a grand government building or on a battlefield, but at home, at Mount Vernon, the place he loved.
As I walked out of Mount Vernon that day, I realized that what I had expected to be simply a birthday adventure had become something much more meaningful. I came to see a house. I left feeling as though I better understood the man. Perhaps that is the magic of places like Mount Vernon. History can sometimes feel distant, names in textbooks, dates to memorize, battles to study. But when you stand where those people stood, look through the windows they looked through and walk the same halls where they once walked, history suddenly feels remarkably human.
And maybe that is the best kind of adventure of all, not simply seeing a new place, but coming home with a deeper appreciation for the people and sacrifices that helped shape the place we call home.
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Rhonda Kelley is the executive director of the Juniata River Valley Chamber of Commerce.