Where Are the Human Remains?: Fielding and Betty Lewis

You might remember the discovery of Richard III’s grave under a Leicester parking lot back in 2012 and how shocking it was that a former King of England’s gravesite had been lost. For archaeologists, missing gravesites aren’t that uncommon.

When put into perspective, it’s not surprising that we can’t locate the graves of many famous Virginians, including some members of the Washington and Lewis families. In Fredericksburg fires, flooding, war, and neglect have all contributed to the loss of historic graves and other important sites during our nearly 300 year history.

Professional and amateur researchers alike have dedicated years of their lives to gathering the lost history of Fredericksburg, including lost graves of famous Virginians. Thanks to this dedication, we have saved possible sites for the future. This includes George Washington’s Ferry Farm itself. Can you believe there was almost a Walmart built directly on top of the Washington house cellar before it was discovered?!

In the Washington edition of “Where Are the Human Remains?” we talked about Mildred Washington, George’s youngest sister who died before the age of 2.  She is the only known family member to be buried somewhere at Ferry Farm. In this edition, we will discuss the remains and burial locations of Fielding and Betty Lewis.

The approximate location of Betty Lewis’s grave is actually known.[1] She struggled financially after Fielding’s death in late 1781 and, following the Revolutionary War, it was especially difficult for Betty to keep Kenmore afloat. Eventually, she went to live on small farm outside Fredericksburg called Millbrook where she spent the rest of her life. Betty passed away, however, while visiting her daughter, Betty Carter in 1797.  She was buried at her daughter’s home, Western View Plantation in Culpeper County, Virginia. The gravestone in the photograph was added later, so the exact location of the Betty’s burial site isn’t known for sure, but it is somewhere on the property.

Portrait of Betty Washington Lewis by John Wollaston, c. 1755. Credit: Mount Vernon Ladies Association
Betty Washington Lewis’s grave stone. Credit: Trice Glancy / FindaGrave.com
Burial site of Betty Washington Lewis. Credit: Marvin Sport / FindaGrave.com

So, what about Fielding Lewis? The short answer, again, is that we aren’t sure. We have an idea but it may not be what you think or may have heard! Local lore mentions St. Georges Church as the location of Fielding’s grave, as he was a vestryman there. However, he is most likely NOT buried in this location.

Portrait of Fielding Lewis by John Wollaston, c. 1755.

St. Georges Episcopal Church in downtown Fredericksburg is a local icon, seen in several paintings as one of the tallest buildings in our town’s skyline. The church’s first structure was built in 1730, and the Lewis family would attend services in this wooden structure. Then, with the major fire in Fredericksburg in 1807, the replacement of the original church building with a more substantial brick building in 1815, and further alterations to the layout of the church over the years, it’s understandable that burial sites and other features around the church were lost.

St. George’s Episcopal Church. Credit: Virginia Department of Historic Resources

Furthermore, if you have taken any local ghost tours of Fredericksburg, you may have heard the story of Fielding and three of his grandchildren being buried “under the church steps”. This particular tale came from a book called The Ghosts of Fredericksburg… and nearby environs by L. B. Taylor, Jr.  Over 30 years ago, this book was used to create the script for Fredericksburg’s annual Ghostwalk sponsored by the University of Mary Washington Historic Preservation Club. While it’s clear that the author spent a great deal of time collecting stories about ghostly Virginia locations, it should be noted that there aren’t any sources or citations listed in the book.  Taylor was a storyteller, and his main focus was ghostly tales, not historical facts. As a result, we now have this chilling, but likely untrue information, intertwined with the Lewis family history.

In reality, like wife Betty, Fielding died far away from Fredericksburg on a property he owned located in what is Frederick County around Winchester, Virginia today. In a letter written by one of his children, Robert, to his sister Betty Carter, Robert tried to convince his sister to move to the area, stating; “You would be in the neighborhood where the venerated remains of our dear decd. Father lie.”[2] While this indicates Fielding’s burial is in Fredrick County, the exact location was never recorded.

Elyse Adams, Archaeologist
Co-Field Director / Archaeology Lab Technician


[1] Find a Grave, database and images (https://www.findagrave.com : accessed 26 May 2020), memorial page for Elizabeth “Betty” Washington Lewis (20 Jun 1733–31 Mar 1797), Find a Grave Memorial no. 22154, citing Western View Plantation, Culpeper, Culpeper County, Virginia, USA ; Maintained by Find A Grave.

[2] Letter from Robert Lewis to Betty Lewis Carter, 1826 quoted in Paula Felder, Fielding Lewis and the Washington Family: A Chronicle of 18th Century Fredericksburg, American History Company, 1999: 300n10

Fielding and Betty Lewis Married 270 Years Ago Today

Fielding and Betty Washington Lewis were married on this date in 1750 and would have celebrated their 270th wedding anniversary this year. In honor of their anniversary, we’ve taken some creative liberty and have created a fictional newspaper announcement of their nuptials.

At the time of their wedding, Betty Washington was sixteen years old, almost seventeen, and Fielding was twenty four, a widow and father. Save for the date on which it occurred — May 7, 1750 — we have no other historical details about the ceremony nor who actually attended. Still, it’s an auspicious date we like to remember in some fashion each year.

For a general historical discussion of 18th century weddings, read “A Colonial Wedding”.

Betty and Fielding wedding

All That’s Fit to Buy: Shopping in the 18th Century

It seems we are all pre-occupied with the subject of groceries lately – how we’re going to get them, which store has what, which items are hard to find at the moment.  The current shopping situation is an alien one to us in our modern world of on-line ordering and nearly instant delivery.  The stress of not being able to get something we need or want at a moment’s notice causes us anxiety, makes us worry about future procurement and how we’ll find what we need.  However, this new reality wouldn’t be at all unusual to those who lived here in Fredericksburg in the 18th century.  In fact, it was their daily way of life, and in some ways,  a form of entertainment and a social outlet.

Empty bottled water shelves

Shelves at a store in Ohio emptied of bottled water on March 15, 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic. Credit: Dan Keck / Wikipedia

To get into the mind-set of someone like Betty Lewis, who was shopping for her own immediate family, a household staff of enslaved labor, and probably her aging mother, as well, we must take a look at how shopping has evolved in America.  Much of what we do today has its roots in the colonial period.  In the early 18th century, shops were few and far between.  In fact, the concept of a free-standing building purpose-built to be a shop didn’t really exist.  The first places where locals could find various goods for sale were really private homes.  These makeshift shops might be a single room in a house, or goods for sale might be found in various storage spaces throughout the house.[1]  Customers, usually neighbors and acquaintances, might come in on social calls and peruse the goods while taking tea and visiting.

Without formal supply chains or reliable access to any one kind of good, early merchants did not specialize in anything, but rather sold whatever they happened to come across. Their customers rarely arrived with a list, but rather decided what would be useful to them once they saw what was available.  And what was available could really run the gamut.

The contents of one such in-home shop in rural Virginia in 1728 was described by an inventory taker as being arranged between a small storage building on the property and “in the dwelling” itself.  A shelf in the storage building held hose, hats and fabric, while underneath it on the floor were books, shoes, various tools, beads and spectacles.  A single crate on the floor held stoneware, glassware, and pewter vessels, as well as needles, combs, sugar and more books.  In the house, the inventory listed more hose, gloves, 2 boxes of smoking pipes, chaffing dishes, chamber pots and punch bowls.[2]  Not only is there no real theme to the goods for sale, they appear to be heaped together in a jumble, leaving the customer to dig through it all.

As the 1700s progressed, colonial American shops became more formal affairs with their own dedicated buildings, purpose-built as commercial structures, often sporting identifiable features like large display windows in front, and a large counter inside, separating customers from the merchant and more expensive goods.  While the wide, and sometimes bizarre, variety of goods available did not decrease, their arrangement on shelves and tables began to have a bit more thought behind it.  It was the first inkling of visual display and marketing in America, and as the number of shops increased, it was more and more necessary to attract customers.

The contents of a free-standing shop in 1801 Virginia was inventoried for tax purposes and shows quite a transition.  One entire wall of the shop was covered with shelving and cubby holes.  The cubbies held buttons separated by size, 124 types of “paper”, razors, knives and forks (each wrapped in individual paper packages) and ribbons.  The shelves held fabrics by the yard and books.  A series of three trunks arranged under the shelving held glassware, while creamware was housed in 3 crates.  Barrels of dry goods that needed to be measured and weighed sat at the end of the counter, where a set of scales was at the ready.[3]  This shop was clearly a general mercantile, offering a bit of everything, but by the end of the 18th century, shopkeepers did tend to specialize.  One might be known for fabrics, while another sold furniture, and another was more of a grocer.[4]  Even so, almost every establishment always had an assortment of odds and ends for sale, and so a customer might come away with fabric and lace for a new dress, and a bottle of castor oil, since it was available.

So this was the shopping world that Betty Lewis operated in.  Many of her receipts and accounts with local Fredericksburg shops still survive in the Kenmore manuscript collection, as do a few shop accounts from the Lewis store.  They show that Fredericksburg was typical of the 18th century evolution in shopping.  For instance, William Potter’s account at the Lewis store for the year 1744 (before Fielding Lewis took over the operation from his father) shows that the Lewises were offering the “jumble” approach to goods for sale.  Potter purchased hanks of silk, buttons, yard goods, pipes, sewing notions, butter, a trunk, rum, soap, wig curlers, and finally, bacon.[5]

Lewis Store in Fredericksburg, Virginia

Historic Lewis Store in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Credit: George Barnick / Wikipedia

By 1766, Fielding had obviously expanded his mercantile operation to carry a more streamlined assortment of housewares, many of which reflected his ability to procure high end products from England through his trade ships.  James Winn’s account with the Lewis store in that year shows purchases of a set of 10 glass tumblers, creamware plates, soup spoons, brass sconces and amazingly, a “turkey stript” which is not a reference to poultry but more likely to a striped Turkish rug, which would have been an exceedingly hard thing to find in 18th century Virginia.  While the Lewis store seemed to be catering to its urban clientele, they were also carrying that ubiquitous assortment of odds and ends that changed week to week.  On the same day that Winn purchased his striped Turkish rug, he also bought a ladies’ hat and 12 pounds of coffee.

ms 109 excerpt

An excerpt of James Winn’s account with Fielding Lewis, showing his purchase of “turkey stript”

The surviving accounts also show that Betty was a shopper of her time, picking up a thing or two on every outing, debating what would be useful to her, and what might come in handy down the road when it was no longer available in the shops.  By the end of the 18th century, Callender & Henderson was the primary general mercantile store in Fredericksburg, while Andrew Parks ran a shop selling luxury goods and housewares.  Betty Lewis did business with both.  From October of 1796 through January of 1797, Betty purchased sugar cones, a purple shawl, and quite a few pieces of nice fabric from Mr. Parks, as well as “1 wire sifter” which was noted on the account to be from Baltimore, as all good wire sifters should be.[6]  Betty’s purchases with Callender & Henderson in 1794 ranged from snuff to limes, turpentine to mustard, grammar lesson books to molasses.[7]  An account with the same store in 1796 showed what items Betty purchased on each shopping trip.  On January 5, she procured both a pair of shoes and Spanish Brown pigment for paint.  On May 26, she came away with a cask of cut nails and molasses.  And on June 27, Betty had a banner day at the shops, purchasing a dozen buttons and 2 barrels of pickled herring.[8]

ms 856 excerpt

An excerpt of Betty Lewis’s account with Callender & Henderson, showing a range of purchases in 1796.

Back here in our modern world, suddenly feeling very reminiscent of the 18th century, I myself recently bought eggs from the barber shop, toilet paper from a local restaurant and yogurt from the butcher.  All odd sources to our minds, but Betty Lewis wouldn’t have batted an eye.  You buy what you can find where you can find it, and if you can’t get what you need, change the plan.  Did Betty go out on June 27, 1796 with the intention of buying two barrels of pickled herring? I highly doubt it, but I’m willing to bet that the Lewis household had fish for dinner that night, even though the menu may have originally called for game hens.

[1] Hodge, Christina J. Consumerism and the Emergence of the Middle Class in Colonial America. Cambridge University Press, 2014; pp. 122.

[2] Martin, Ann Smart. “Commercial Space as Consumption Arena: Retail Stores in Early Virginia.” Perspectives in Vernacular Architecture, vol. 8, 2000, pp. 204. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3514414. Accessed 16 Apr. 2020.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Hodge, pp. 130.

[5] William Potter in Account with John Lewis, 1744.  Kenmore Manuscript Collection, MS 102.

[6] Betty Lewis in Account with Andrew Parks, October, 1796 – January, 1797.  Kenmore Manuscript Collection, MS 426.

[7] Betty Lewis in Account with David Henderson, 1794. Kenmore Manuscript Collection, MS 716.

[8] Betty Lewis in Account with David Henderson, 1796. Kenmore Manuscript Collection, MS 856.

Siblings Strained by Revolution: George and Betty’s Wartime Letters

George Washington was the oldest of Augustine and Mary Washington’s five children. The next oldest was daughter Betty, who was born 14 months after George and was his only sister. 

George and Betty are immensely important to us at George Washington’s Ferry Farm & Historic Kenmore. They spent their formative years at Ferry Farm and Betty called Kenmore home for two decades.  As main characters in our historic sites’ stories, we often ponder what their relationship as siblings was like.

The best and, frankly, only gauge of George and Betty’s relationship are the letters they wrote to one another later in their lives.  Twenty-four letters written between 1779 and 1796 have survived. They wrote more than just these two dozen but many have not been found.  The 24 that have survived depict a complex relationship of sibling love and camaraderie tempered by occasional conflict.  Let’s begin, on this National Siblings Day, a multi-post examination of George and Betty’s letters and what they may indicate about the relationship of this historically consequential brother and sister.

In our first post, we look at the letters George and Betty wrote to one another during the Revolutionary War.  There are only two, both from the hand of Betty, but they are profoundly interesting, nonetheless.

The first surviving letter comes in 1779 while George was away commanding the Continental Army.  He had been commander-in-chief for four years by that time and, during the second half of 1779, his service found him headquartered at the highly-fortified and strategically important West Point, New York overlooking the Hudson River.  On September 21, Betty wrote her brother there to thank him for “the miniature Picture—for which I am much Indetted”.  The miniature was painted by Charles Willson Peale and was a small version of his portrait of Washington commemorating the American victories at Trenton on December 26, 1776 and Princeton on January 3, 1777. Peale painted s miniature copy of the portrait specifically for Betty indicating that either George wanted to share his likeness with his sister or that Betty had requested a likeness of her brother that she could have while he was away fighting.

George Washington at the Battle of Princeton (1779) by Charles Willson Peale

“George Washington at the Battle of Princeton” (1779) by Charles Willson Peale. Credit: Yale University Art Gallery

Indeed, this letter shows that Betty cleared missed George.  In sharing that she, her husband Fielding, and their daughter also named Betty had recently visited George’s wife Martha, Betty noted her wish that she could have found George there upon their arrival at Mount Vernon. Doing so, she wrote, “would of Compleat’d My Happiness.”  It had been at least four long years since Betty had laid eyes on George.  Closing the letter, she wistfully expressed her longing for the war’s end, writing, “O when will that Day Come that we Shall meet again[?]—I trust in the Lord soon, till when you have the sincere Prayr’s and Good wishes for your helth [sic] and happiness.”

The only other surviving wartime letter written between George and Betty comes towards the end of the Revolutionary War and reveals a bit more conflict in the sibling relationship than the first.  It is dated August 25, 1783 and is quite a confusing and unclear letter at times.

Betty begins by congratulating George on “the happy Change in our Affairs” because she hoped “it will be the meanes of our Seeing you Soon”.  Betty may simply be congratulating George on the looming end of the war but, at the same time, throughout her letter she refers to more than one event that happened back at the end of 1781.  Indeed, much in the letter seems to indicate that their correspondence had lapsed for a substantial amount of time and that this is may be a catching up letter. If so, then perhaps her good wishes are for George’s victory at Yorktown and the surrender of General Lord Cornwallis back on October 19, 1781?

Surrender of Lord Cornwallis (1820) by John Trumbull

“Surrender of Lord Cornwallis” (1820) by John Trumbull. Credit: Architect of the Capitol

Regardless, Betty is quite upset that she has not heard from George in an extraordinarily long time.  She starkly admonishes him for not writing, saying “I have been at a loss how to account for your long silence,[.] the multiplicity of Business you have on your mind is the only One I Can find that flatters me [that] I am not quite forgot[ten.]”  While acknowledging the pressures on his time as the army’s commander, Betty scolds her “Dear Brother” for not finding “one half [h]Our you Could Spare to write a few lines to an only Sister whoe [sic] was lab[o]ring under so mutch [sic] Affliction both of Body and mind.”

The affliction faced by Betty was the deaths of both her brother Samuel and her husband Fielding, which she says took place within three weeks of one another.  Samuel died on September 26, 1781.  Fielding’s death did not actually take place until sometime between December 10, 1781, when he swore out a codicil to his will, and January 17, 1782, when his will and codicil were presented in court.  Perhaps Betty mistakenly wrote the word “weeks” when she actually meant “months”?  Perhaps time and grief caused her to misremember the length of the interval between the two deaths?  Perhaps she was attempting to make George feel guilty for his long silence?  Regardless, save for the Yorktown victory, late 1781 was indeed a grim time for Betty and it seemed to affect her physical health, if not also her mental health.  She told George that “the uneasiness of mind it Caus’d me to get in an Ill state of helth and I expect’d Shortly to follow them”.  She feared joining Samuel and Fielding.

Betty writes that her illness “happen’d at a time when every thing Contributed to ad[d] to my uneasiness” including a failure to see George when he apparently passed directly through or close to Fredericksburg on his way north after Yorktown.  We’re not entirely sure George actually went through his hometown on this trip.  Betty’s opaque phrasing — “your being in Fredericksburg the only Chance we had of seeing you from the Commencement of the War” — is not terribly helpful in figuring it out.  She is upset because she missed seeing him during his visit or because this was his only visit since the war started or because he passed close to town without stopping at all.

There is evidence, however, that George did travel directly through Fredericksburg but that Betty and his family were not in town at that moment and so did not see him.  In a letter written to George on March 13, 1782, Mary, his mother, laments not being at home “when you went through fredirecksburg [sic].”  She indicates that she was “over the Mountains”, perhaps meaning present-day Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, where the Lewis and Washington families often traveled to use the hot springs for pleasure and medicinal reasons.  Indeed, fearing targeted abduction by the British during the fighting in Virginia in the fall of 1781, Fielding took Mary and Betty and fled to a Lewis property probably in or near today’s Berkeley Springs.  With Fielding in exceedingly poor health, it is thought that this is where he ultimately died, which would put the family there until at least December 1781.  George passed through or near to Fredericksburg sometime in November.

After her scolding and laments, Betty did end her letter to George with a bit of hope and expresses again how much she missed him.  She tells him that she is “Recovering my helth fast and Please my self with thoughts of Shortly Seeing you once more with us.”  But, in a postscript, she gives one more scolding to her beloved brother, saying “I Wrote you three Letters when you was in Virginia but never heard if you got One of them.”

These two wartime letters written by Betty Lewis to her brother George Washington reveal a complex relationship between the two siblings.  It was a relationship characterized by love and by the deep sadness of absence.  It was also a relationship strained by the tensions and difficulties of war and by George’s all-consuming responsibilities as Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.

Zac Cunningham
Manager of Educational Programs

A Lucky Diary Discovery

At the end of 2019, Dr. Edward E. Moore donated a collection of family documents to Historic Kenmore.  Dr. Moore’s is the great-great grandnephew of Esther Maria Lewis Moore, who was the great granddaughter of Lawrence Lewis. Lawrence was the son of Betty and Fielding Lewis.  Among the papers donated was a small pocket diary covered in blue silk.  This diary, dating from 1826, belonged to Esther Moore’s grandmother, Esther Maria Coxe, and then to Esther Moore’s father, Henry Llewellyn Dangerfield Lewis, who received it on his sixteenth birthday in April 1859.

Upon cataloguing this diary, I was surprised to find eleven four-leaf clovers pressed between the various pages.  I had never seen a four-leaf clover personally and was surprised to find the dried remains of so many in this 200-year-old book.  Besides knowing the three-leafed varieties are called shamrocks and the four-leafed varieties are considered lucky, I knew really nothing else about clover. With St. Patrick’s Day approaching and on my mind, I decided to investigate what clover is, when it became “lucky”, and what exactly is the difference between four-leaf clovers and shamrocks.  In the process, I learned how this symbol of Ireland first evolved out of the tumultuous political atmosphere of the 18th century and an Irish political group that looked to the American Revolution for inspiration?

ms 2759-6

Four-leaf clovers inside the Moore family diary.

 

There are over 300 different types of clover but the one most associated with the “four-leaf clover” is white clover.  White clover is an allotetrapoloid, meaning it has 4 chromosomes instead of 2 like humans and most other organisms.  Additionally, each pair of white clover’s four chromosomes comes from different species.  Basically, these little plants have incredibly complicated genetic structures.

Why some white clover sprout four leaves and some only three is not entirely clear but it is likely some combination of genetic mutation and weather.

Similarly, the association of four-leaf clovers with “good-luck” is not entirely clear either and seems to mostly come from the fact that they are rare.  Your chances of finding one are around 1 in 5,000 three-leaf clovers.

While there is no genetic different between a shamrock and a four-leaf clover, the shamrock is traditionally considered to have just three leaves.  It also has much more of a historical mythology or folklore, which is wrapped up tightly with St. Patrick and Ireland.  The word shamrock comes from the Irish word “seamrog,” meaning “little clover.” It is an ambiguous term that includes white clover, hop clover, red clover, and many other different types.

The first documented mention of shamrock in the English language was in the works of Elizabethan scholar Edmund Campion in 1571. In his work Boke of the Histories of Irelande [sic], he stated the Irish ate “shamrotes, watercresses, rootes, and other herbes” and, soon enough, the shamrock became a plant associated with the Irish people.

The shamrock didn’t become associated with 5th century missionary St. Patrick, Ireland’s patron saint, until about a hundred years later.  The first thing connecting him with the shamrock was an image from around 1675 showing him holding one.  Then, about fifty years later, around 1725, the legend of St. Patrick and the shamrock was first recorded.  It says that St. Patrick used the three leaves of the clover to represent the Holy Trinity when trying to convert Ireland’s native Celts to Christianity.

Kilbennan's St. Benin's Church window depicting St. Patrick holding a shamrock

Window depicting St. Patrick holding a shamrock in St. Benin’s Church, Kilbennan, County Galway, Ireland. Credit: Andreas F. Borchert/Wikipedia

Around the same time as the emergence of the St. Patrick legend, Ireland, much like the America, was in political upheaval.  At the time, the shamrock became a symbol of Irish politics.  The Irish Volunteers, a militia raised to defend Ireland from French and Spanish invasion after the British withdrew troops to fight in the war in the colonies, began using the shamrock as its symbol.[1]  Additionally, inspired by the American Revolution and its anti-monarchical goals, the Society of United Irishmen sought to get rid of the rule of the King in Ireland.  They used the iconic clover as a symbol of freedom.[2]

Print

The official Tourism Ireland logo is a stylized shamrock. Credit: Tourism Ireland

Even today, the shamrock continues to be used in the emblems of many state organizations, both in the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland.  In fact, the traditional green shamrock is a registered trademark of the Government of Ireland and they advocate its use only to sell products that have a connection with Ireland or are Irish products.

 

So at your St. Patrick’s Day party you can entertain your friends with the interesting genetics of clover, the history of the shamrock, and how Ireland’s iconic emblem evolved in turbulent political times to represent a group inspired by the American Revolution.  All thanks to the lucky find of some lucky four-leaf clovers in a centuries old diary donated to Kenmore by a descendant of Betty and Fielding Lewis.

Heather Baldus
Collections Manager

[1] Allan Blackstock, Double Traitors?: The Belfast Volunteers and Yeomen, 1778-1828, Ulster Historical Foundation, 2000: pg 2

[2] The Shamroc, [sic]. Printed by Joseph Mehain 22, Castle-street. 11 March 1799.

Summer Vacation, 18th Century Style

Despite issues of poor roads, lack of transportation, financial considerations and simply an absence of places to go, colonial Virginians fancied a summer vacation just as much as we do today.  In fact, getting out of the city, or away from hot, steamy climates and hordes of mosquitoes in the summer months was actually necessary for health.  In the late 1760s and right through the Revolution, Fielding Lewis and his brother-in-law George Washington joined a number of other Fredericksburg locals in making regular summer visits to one of the few getaways locales in existence at the time – the warm springs in (at the time) Frederick County.

Now known as Berkeley Springs in present-day West Virginia, the bubbling natural springs and their reputed medicinal powers have attracted visitors since long before Europeans came across them.  Native Americans visited the springs to take advantage of its healing waters, and told settlers about the spot, as well.  The site is labeled as “Medicinal spring” on the famed 1747 Fry-Jefferson map.

A map of the most inhabited part of Virginia containing the whole province of Maryland with part of Pensilvania, New Jersey and North Carolina, 1747

“A map of the most inhabited part of Virginia containing the whole province of Maryland with part of Pensilvania, New Jersey and North Carolina”, 1747 (the Fry-Jefferson map) by Joshua Fry & Peter Jefferson. Credit: Library of Congress.

Enlargement of Fry-Jefferson Map showing Medicinal Spring

Enlargement of the Fry-Jefferson map showing the location of the Medicinal Spring frequented by the Washington and Lewis families. Credit: Library of Congress.

Sixteen-year-old George Washington made his first visit the following year, as part of Lord Fairfax’s wilderness surveying crew.  At that very early date, a visit to the springs really was purely for medicinal purposes, as there certainly were no other amenities to attract vacationers, and getting there was a feat in itself, being tucked away in the remote mountains.  To say that conditions were primitive would be an understatement, and young George was…unimpressed. In his diary, which he began on this trip and would continue for nearly the rest of his life, George wrote, “We this day call’d to see y. Fam’d Warm Springs. We camped out in y. field this night. Nothing remarkable happen’d…”[1]

Indeed, early reports about the situation at the “fam’d Warm Springs” conjur some interesting mental images.  Native Americans “took the waters” by simply hollowing out shallow pools in the sandy ground and squatting in them, allowing the natural spring water to bubble up around them.  They also built temporary saunas to steam in, and apparently allowed ailing white visitors to share.  Although, the shallow pits were eventually lined with stones found nearby to make them more or less permanent, one still pictures fully-clothed, wig-wearing colonists sitting miserably in tepid water, hoping their fever, cold or rheumatism would be cured.  As there were no structures built on the site, visitors hauled their own provisions, tents and even household staffs with them in wagons and camped out on the steep hillsides.[2]

And apparently, this state of affairs went on for quite a while, perhaps testifying to the desperation of the sick and injured in the 18th century for some sort of relief.  On a return trip to the springs in August of 1761, George Washington described a similar situation to what he had witnessed more than a decade earlier.  “We found of both sexes about 250 people at this place, full of all manner of diseases and complaints…They are situated very badly on the east side of a steep mountain and enclosed by hills on all sides, so that the afternoon’s sun is hid by 4 o’clock and the fog hangs over us till 9 or 10…I am of the opinion that numbers get more hurt by their manner of lying, than the waters can do them good. Had we not succeeded in getting a tent and marquee from Winchester, we should have been in a most miserable situation here.”[3]

Yet, despite the less than ideal accommodations, George did return to the warm springs.  And so did many other members of the Virginia gentry, including Fielding Lewis.  They did seem to believe that the waters there had a positive effect, and so the trip was worthwhile…but, gee, it sure would be great if they could have a bit more fun while doing it!  And so they set about turning the place into a more comfortable spot, a resort really, where they could not only take the waters but enjoy entertainments, visit with friends, have good food and drink, and generally have a good time for a few weeks every summer.  By all accounts, they succeeded.

George Washington's Bathtub

“George Washington’s Bath Tub”, a monument constructed to represent bathing conditions in Washington’s time in present-day Berkeley Springs State Park. Credit: Warfieldian / Wikipedia

The first effort to civilize the warm springs was by Fredericksburg resident James Mercer, a good friend of both Fielding Lewis and Charles Dick.  He apparently was given permission by Lord Fairfax to build a rather large summer cottage at the site, and it quickly became the center of Fredericksburg’s summer social scene.  The group of Fredericksburg friends, all young men in their 30s and early 40s, along with wives and children, journeyed to Mercer’s cottage for vacation.  In 1769, George Washington brought Martha and Patsy to stay for several weeks, and described the many visitors in and out of the cottage, including Lord Fairfax himself and his family members, and several former military friends from Pennsylvania.[4]

With the building of a new road to the area in 1772, James Mercer got some neighbors.  Inns and taverns sprang up (including Washington’s favorite, Throgmorton’s Sign of the Liberty Pole and Flag) other houses were built (although still mostly cabins and one room shanties) and the influx of vacationers increased.  It was a kind of hodge-podge, though, with no systematic plan for building or improvement.  The Fredericksburg friends (and associated relatives) saw an opportunity, though, and in 1775 they convinced Lord Fairfax to allow the laying out of a proper town, and Samuel and Warner Washington were put in charge of it.  Town lots were quickly bought up, mostly by the Fredericksburg contingent, and the building of cottages commenced.  The group decided to give their new town the rather aspirational name of Bath, after the popular spa resort in England.

The Comforts of Bath

“King Bladud’s Bath” from The Comforts of Bath series (1798) by satirist Thomas Rowlandson. Credit: Wikigallery.

So what was daily life like for a colonial Virginian on summer vacation? By the 1770s, life in Bath had changed drastically from the early days of squatting in shallow pits.  In addition to sampling the local mineral water, vacationers could enjoy public balls that happened twice a week, tavern nightlife, gambling, horse racing, daily teas at 5:00 and a number of options for food and drink.  By 1784, an advertisement in the Maryland Gazette describes the town as having five bathhouses, each with their own dressing rooms, an assembly room, and even a theater, where the travelling performance group The American Company of Comedians was expected to perform that summer.[5]

Noted early Virginia diarist Philip Vickers Fithian wrote of his visit to the springs in 1775, “In our dining Room Companies at Cards, Five & forty, Whist, Alfours, Callico-Betty &c. I walked out among the Bushes here also was—Amusements in all Shapes, & in high Degrees, are constantly taking Place among so promiscuous Company.” Fithian also goes on to describe the gentlemen of the village serenading the ladies from outside their lodgings until 4:00 in the morning, following a large ball.[6]

Fielding’s eldest son, John Lewis, and his cousin Warner Washington, who were in their 20s, were among the young gentry who suddenly found the springs interesting as entertainment opportunities increased.  The cousins eventually bought lots and built cottages, although it’s probably safe to say they weren’t there for the waters.  The little village had become so raucous in the summer months, a Methodist minister referred to it as an “overflowing tide of immorality.”[7]

But the curative properties of the springs were still the primary focus of visitors’ time.  Depending on the ailment that visitors were seeking to cure, they might “take the waters” up to three times a day at one of several actual bathhouses that had been built over the natural springs.  We have some description of these bathhouses from a French traveler, who vacationed at the springs in 1791, “…a plain and large frame structure, divided into eight small rooms made of badly joined boards where the bathers go in the morning. There is a staircase in each small room so that when the bather wishes he can gradually change the water line.”[8]  Both men and women used the bathhouses, but they did so at separate times of day.  At European spas of the day, men generally went swimming in the nude, while women wore bathing gowns, so that was perhaps the convention used at the American Bath, as well.

Fielding Lewis made an annual visit to the springs every August for several weeks, as early as 1772 and possibly much earlier.  When the town lots were laid out, he purchased #45 which fronted on Liberty Street.  His next door neighbor was Charles Dick, and James Mercer’s big cottage was just a few doors down.  Fielding’s mentions of his visits are few.  We don’t know whether the entire Lewis family travelled with him, although due to mentions in Philip Fithian’s journal, we know that in 1775 son George was with his father (George had attended the College of New Jersey with Fithian years earlier and Fithian enjoyed the chance to catch up with an old friend).  Most likely Fielding was among the springs vacationers who was there almost entirely for medicinal reasons, as his health had begun its long decline, and already the stresses of wartime were weighing heavily on him.

So there you have it.  It was cold, muddy and filled with hordes of sick and injured people, but the company was good and the party never ended – it was summer vacation, 18th century style!

Meghan Budinger
Aldrich Director of Curatorial Operations

 

[1] “A Journal of my Journey over the Mountains began Fryday the 11th. of March 1747/8,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed June 4, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/01-01-02-0001-0002.

[2] Mozier, Jeanne. The Early Days of Bath.  Accessed June 4, 2019, http://berkeleysprings.com/history-berkeley-springs/early-days-bath

[3] The Papers of George Washington, Colonial Series, vol. 7, 1 January 1761 – 15 June 1767, ed. W. W. Abbot and Dorothy Twohig. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1990, pp. 68–70.

[4] Felder, Paula.  Fielding Lewis and the Washington Family.  The American History Company, 1998, pp. 186.

[5] Flexner, James Thomas.  Steamboats Come True: American Inventors in Action. Fordham University Press, 1992, pg. 67.

[6] Fithian, Philip Vickers. Journal, 1775-1776: Written on the Virginia-Pennsylvania frontier and in the army around New York. Robert Greenhalgh Albion and Leonidas Dodson, eds. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1934.

[7] Mozier.

[8] Bayard, Ferdinand M. Voyage dans l’intérieur des États-Unis: à Bath, Winchester, dans la vallée de Shenandoah, etc., etc., pendant l’été de 1791. As quoted in Mozier, ibid.

Lecture – Betty Washington Lewis and Women’s Health [Video]

On Tuesday, May 1, 2018, Dr. Kelly Brennan Arehart, Manager of Interpretation & Visitor Services at The George Washington Foundation, presented a lecture titled “Betty Washington Lewis and Women’s Health.” Betty Washington Lewis gave birth to 11 children; a feat almost unheard of today.  Kelly explored Betty’s  journey from childhood to womanhood, from maiden to mother, and medical challenges that 18th century women faced.  A cradle to grave examination of women’s heath tells us of the strength and resilience of Betty Washington Lewis and other women who endured at time without anesthetics or knowledge of germs.

Join us at the library on Tuesday, May 8, 2018 for “Coinage and Credit: The Economy of Colonial Virginia,” a lecture about the business and trade of Fredericksburg merchant Fielding Lewis presented by David Arehart, a site supervisor at Colonial Williamsburg.  Talk begins at 7:00 p.m. The lecture is FREE and hosted at the Central Rappahannock Regional Library at 1201 Caroline Street, Fredericksburg, Virginia. To learn more, visit http://www.kenmore.org or livesandlegaciesblog.org.