A Granddaughter’s Grief: Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis and George Washington

The life of Eleanor “Nelly” Parke Custis Lewis was one of privilege and loss. After the premature death of her father, John “Jacky” Parke Custis, in 1781, Nelly and her younger brother, George Washington “Wash” Custis, were sent to Mount Vernon to live with their paternal grandmother, Martha, and her husband George Washington. Under the care of her grandparents, Nelly became one of the most educated and celebrated young women of America. When Washington died on December 14, 1799, the world as Nelly knew it was shattered forever. For the previous two decades, almost every decision Nelly made, her choice of husband, her social circle, and living location, was done with her grandparents in mind. The death of Washington marked a dramatic downturn for the remainder of Nelly’s life, contributing to the decline of her mental health through the loss of her social standing and her unhappy marriage.

Nelly’s early letters showcased a young woman with an excitement for “constant occupations and frequent journeys” with her “beloved husband”; her later letters struck a more somber tone. These letters were a constant stream of gossip and friendship from an educated and witty young woman, but from November 1799 to December 1804, the period that saw the death of George and Martha Washington, her pen was silent. By 1804, Nelly was no longer the “high-spirited, fun-loving, impudent, and mischievous” woman of her youth; in her place was a bereaved granddaughter and mother.[1] A December 1804 letter wistfully recalled her friendship and assured her friend, Elizabeth Bordley Gibson, “how constantly I regret the distance between us, which deprives me of the society of my most valued young friend.”[2] At only twenty-five years old, grief had shifted Nelly’s outlook on life.

Nelly was extraordinarily close to her grandparents and her closeness with her grandfather was particularly apparent throughout both of their writings. In a vulnerable letter, Washington wrote to Nelly on the eve of her seventeenth birthday in March 1796 about the importance of choosing a suitable husband. This letter sheds an interesting light on Washington, who instead of clinical correspondence, used emotional vulnerability to stress his advice for her future. As Nelly had two older sisters already married and was approaching marrying age herself, Washington was concerned with her future match. Nelly’s eldest sister, Eliza, had married Thomas Law, an Englishman ten years her senior and a man who both George and Martha Washington had disapproved of. With Nelly’s future, Washington did not want history to repeat itself. His letter implored his granddaughter to marry a man of good character, of moderate wealth, and of good sense, “for be assured a sensible woman can never be happy with a fool.”[3] Nelly’s choice in her future husband appeared to be heavily influenced by Washington.

In her youth, Nelly showed very little interest in the seriousness of marriage. Her letters to Elizabeth Bordley show a flirtatious young woman, who was well aware of her beauty and talents, but with little desire to settle down. As the youngest sister, she also had the experience of seeing the trials and tribulations of matrimony through her older sisters. Her eldest sister Eliza’s marriage was a passionate, but unhappy one. Her other sister, Patty, lived a quiet and unassuming life in the Federal City. Nelly, still a teenager, relished in the title of aunt,[4] but was more attached to the idea of dancing and socializing than settling down as the mistress of a plantation. At the age of eighteen, she wrote about a potential future spouse that “whoever is my husband I must first love him with all my Heart – that is not romantically, but esteem & prefer him before all others; that man I am not yet acquainted with, perhaps may never be, if so, then I remain E P Custis, Spinster for life.”[5]

Advertisement

Despite numerous suitors, she eventually married Lawrence Lewis, a widower twelve years her senior. Lawrence, Washington’s nephew through Betty Washington and Fielding Lewis, had been living at Mount Vernon since 1797, but Nelly made no mention of him in her letters to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson until a few weeks before her wedding in February 1799, writing that “cupid . . . took me by surprise.”[6] The motivation behind their courtship is unknown, but as Washington had no biological children himself, Nelly and Lawrence’s marriage legally bound the Washington and Custis families together through matrimony and presumably, future children.

Lawrence Lewis, an older, withdrawn widower, was hardly an obvious match for the young, vivacious Nelly. As the middle son of a second marriage, Lawrence had little to inherit, but as the son of Betty Washington Lewis, he carried the Washington family bloodline. It is reasonable to believe that Nelly, who grew up charmed and spoiled by her step-grandfather, assumed that marrying a member of his family, one who even carried a family resemblance, ensured that the continuation of the decadent lifestyle she was accustomed to.[7] Washington’s influence in the Lewises’ marriage was obvious. Although Lawrence had landholdings in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, some sixty miles from Mount Vernon, the couple continued to reside with George and Martha Washington and would eventually make their permanent home within view of the Potomac plantation. It appeared that Nelly was part of this arrangement, as she wrote to a friend that she “prefer’d a room in my Beloved Grandmama’s house, to a Palace away from her.”[8] Lawrence, who seemingly understood his good fortune in marrying a young, pretty, and wealthy woman, did not argue the matter.

To show his support for the match, Washington officially became Nelly’s legal guardian in order to procure her marriage license and Nelly and Lawrence were married by candlelight in the New Room at Mount Vernon on February 22, 1799, Washington’s sixty-seventh birthday.[9]

Shortly after their wedding, the rosy glow of romance began to wear off. The couple left for their on a honeymoon, a trip that spanned several months. While visiting family in Fredericksburg, Lawrence became ill with an eye infection so serious it left him bedridden for a month.[10] In response to his health and faced with the real possibility of being on her own for the first time in her life, Nelly herself became stricken with severe anxiety and influenza.[11]

Advertisement

When the couple returned to Mount Vernon in early October, they were welcomed with the news that they would not need to travel far to build their new home together. Washington’s will bequeathed the Lewis couple two thousand acres of Douge Run Farm, part of the original five farms of Mount Vernon. However, in September 1799, Washington informed Lawrence that although they would inherit the property at the time of his death, it was his wish that the couple “might commence building as soon as you please.”[12] At the time, the Lewises were in no rush to leave the comforts of Mount Vernon and the construction of their future home, Woodlawn, did not begin until 1800. With both George and Martha in good health, Nelly remained surrounded by family and the comforts of Mount Vernon, with the ability to visit nearby friends in Alexandria.

When they returned from their honeymoon, Nelly was pregnant with her first child. The realities of married life began to set in. Her husband had recovered, but eye issues, and later, gout, would continue to plague him for the rest of his life. Instead of a beaming bride, Nelly had already become his caretaker. While her initial attraction to Lawrence remains a mystery, it is apparent that she believed that in marrying a member of the Washington family, very little in her life would change. She soon realized that while her new husband may have borne a physical resemblance to his famous uncle, the similarities to Washington ended there.

As the eighteenth century faded into the next, however, the Lewises lives began to rapidly change. On Thursday, December 12, 1799, George Washington set off on horseback to supervise daily procedures and progress across the grounds of Mount Vernon. Caught in poor winter weather, he arrived home for dinner in wet clothes. Over the next few days, Washington’s health rapidly deteriorated. Nelly was home at Mount Vernon when Washington died on December 14, but having recently given birth to her first child, a daughter named Frances Parke, she was bedridden with postpartum complications. Unable to leave her bedroom to pay respects at her grandfather’s bedside, Nelly lay helplessly as Washington died. As news of his death spread across the country, church bells tolled, shops closed, and mock funerals were held. But at Mount Vernon, the mourning remained restrained. In the eighteenth century, women were expected to grieve privately and neither Nelly nor Martha attended Washington’s funeral. Unable to publicly express her grief or even mourn, Nelly instead devoted herself to her household duties as a young wife and mother.

With Washington gone, Nelly became even closer to her grandmother. As Martha’s own health rapidly deteriorated in the wake of her husband’s death, Nelly became her de facto nurse and aide. Unlike her elder sisters, who lived in the federal city of Washington, Nelly was isolated in the Northern Virginia countryside, making her the natural choice to assume this role. Although she was a young newlywed, Nelly’s life was of someone decades older. She socialized very little, traveled even less, and emotionally pulled away from her husband.

After Martha’s death in May 1802, Nelly’s mental and physical health declined rapidly. Portia Lee, niece of Richard Bland Lee, wrote that after the death of Martha, Nelly “was the picture of woe.”[13] To make matters more dire, Nelly had suffered the deaths of her second and third children and was pregnant with her fourth. Portia continued that she worried Nelly “will sink, under the accumulated sufferings, of Mind and Body, losses so rapid, and of those so dear, require great exertion of Piety, and strength of Mind to support these qualities I am sure she possesses.”[14]

In 1802, the Lewises and their young daughter moved into the still-unfinished Woodlawn. When the land that Woodlawn was situated on was given to Nelly and Lawrence, the intention was to create a way for her to raise her own family while still being connected to her grandparents. Only three miles apart, the location of the two estates allowed for easy travel back and forth. From the second story of Woodlawn, Nelly was able to see Mount Vernon among the tulip poplar trees planted around the mansion. But after the deaths of George and Martha, Woodlawn served as reminder of what she had lost.

Portia Lee’s concerns were not without warrant. The significance of Nelly’s losses in such a short amount of time were great. After the deaths of two daughters, Nelly’s attention shifted towards her surviving children for the rest of her life. Instead of the doting and caring parent she herself had, Nelly became obsessive over her children’s health and wellbeing. In November 1804, Nelly wrote to Elizabeth Bordley about the state of her life since the death of her grandparents, a time that she referred to as “the most severe distress.”[15] She informed Elizabeth about the deaths of two of her children and mentioned that her own health had been in serious decline since her marriage five years earlier.[16] By sharing this information, Nelly revealed how her grief impacted all areas of life, through both her physical and mental health as well.

Where Washington was a successful planter and businessman, Lawrence had little interest in learning how to maintain and run a plantation. While Nelly and Lawrence hosted decadent and stylish dinners for friends, family, politicians, and military officers, Woodlawn plantation was never profitable. With two thousand acres and an enslaved population that neared on one hundred, the Lewises’ responsibilities were vast. Without a keen eye for management and investments, Nelly and Lawrence’s relationship began to tear at the seams. Nelly’s early letters to Elizabeth Bordley included frequent requests for expensive Philadelphia-made goods including shoes, jewelry, and clothing. By the 1830s, the Lewises’ financial situation was dire. Lawrence made no effort to hide his disappointment in Nelly’s spending habits and he wrote to his daughter Angela that his wife’s desire for fine things was sending the family to ruin.[17] During this time, the couple was spending time apart. With Nelly often in Philadelphia visiting friends or later visiting her children in Louisiana, her letters to her husband were neutral and matter of fact, void of anger or affection.[18]

Nelly was raised in an environment where she was denied very little. The product of upper-class Virginia gentry and the influence of Washington’s status, her life was comfortable and privileged. She was accustomed to not only wealth, but the relationship of two parent figures who had a mutual love and respect for each other. Devoid of both wealth and affection, Nelly was forced to reconcile with the fact that the comforts of her childhood could not be replicated in her marriage.

With her marriage in decline, Nelly’s children became her priority. As her grandparents provided her with the opportunity of an esteemed education and cultured upbringing, Nelly wanted to replicate the experience for her own children. She arranged for private tutors to ensure her daughters were educated in reading, writing, languages, art, and music. Martha Washington’s strong influence on her granddaughter was apparent in the Nelly’s parenting. Instead of her own mother or sisters, Nelly viewed her grandmother as a model of womanhood and subsequently based decisions on motherhood and child-rearing on her. The majority of Nelly’s formal education was in Philadelphia and she made the decision to enroll two of her daughters, Parke and Agnes, at Madame Greland’s school in the city, although it deeply troubled her to part with them.

Whereas her own Philadelphia education was largely completed under the Presidential mansion roof and the watchful eye of her grandparents, Nelly was unable to entirely uproot her life to join Parke and Agnes in Pennsylvania. Although she visited them as often as she could, she was reliant on her Philadelphia friends like Elizabeth Bordley to care for them in her absence and keep her abreast of any news.

Nelly’s reliance on Elizabeth’s correspondence was all the more important in the summer of 1820. Elizabeth wrote to Nelly that Agnes was ill and needed immediate attention. Although Nelly wished to rush to her daughter’s side, Lawrence, who was suffering a bout of gout, forbade it.[19] By the time Nelly arrived in Philadelphia, Agnes was close to death. She never forgave her husband for preventing her from traveling sooner, and for the rest of her life, believed that had she been able to attend to her daughter’s sickbed that she could have saved her.[20]

The wound that was the death of George Washington was torn open again with the death of Agnes. Just as Nelly was unable to attend to her grandfather’s sickbed, she was unable to attend to her daughter. Even after Agnes had died, after Nelly wrote her obituary and cut her hair for memorial jewelry, she refused to bury her.[21] Seemingly influenced by Washington’s fear of being buried alive and requesting that he not be interred any less than three days after his death, Nelly arranged her daughter’s burial at Christ Church in Philadelphia only after she was assured that she could not be revived. Upon returning to Woodlawn, Nelly was fixated on mourning rituals; she planted a memorial garden with Agnes’ favorite flowers, carved her name into a tree, and composed several poems in her honor.[22] Unlike her grandmother, whose mourning of her husband was private, Nelly’s past loss motivated her to grieve the loss of her daughter in a more public way.

Nelly’s obsession over her children’s education and health had several motives. The sudden and premature losses of both of her grandparents and several children was an obvious reason why she would keep her remaining children close. Additionally, without the emotional support of her husband, her reliance on the happiness and health of her children became even more pronounced. By the 1820s, Nelly was largely withdrawn from society and entirely dependent upon the success and joys of her children.

In 1824, the Marquis de Lafayette returned to America for the first time in forty years, providing an opportunity for Nelly to return to the spotlight. Lafayette’s visit reignited the memory of George Washington, and by extension, the Custis grandchildren’s connection to him. Lafayette’s decision to spend nearly a third of his entire tour in the Washington, D.C. area was largely due to the four Custis grandchildren each residing nearby. Lafayette’s return invigorated Nelly, who traveled to New York to greet him upon his arrival.[23] Although Lafayette had visited Mount Vernon only once in 1784, his frequent letters to Washington were likely a source of family entertainment in the years that followed, and subsequent letters also connected him to the Washington and Custis family. Washington, who viewed Lafayette as an adopted son, was extraordinarily close to the young Frenchman. In return, Lafayette treated Washington’s family with familial closeness. After Washington’s death in 1799, Nelly especially viewed Lafayette as another father-figure.

His 1824 return allowed Nelly to not only relish in the attention of being an intimate family member of Washington, but also be the receiver of fatherly affection she so desperately craved. After his visit to Woodlawn in December 1824, Nelly wrote that it felt “as if my own great adopted Father was in my house.”[24] She showered Lafayette and his son Georges, who was traveling with his father, with various trinkets and objects associated with Washington, including memorial brooches made with Washington’s hair.[25] During major events of the tour, including White House receptions and Lafayette’s departure from Washington, D.C. in September 1825, Nelly was present.

The memory of George Washington was a major theme of Lafayette’s tour and temporarily reignited Nelly. In the years that followed, public interest in the private life of Washington grew. Woodlawn, with its close proximity to and collection of items from Mount Vernon was a tangible reminder to all visitors of Nelly’s connection to him. She frequently wrote to friends and early historians with her insight about Washington, including her opinions regarding treatment of those he enslaved and her belief of his sole authorship of his Farewell Address.[26]

After George and Martha’s deaths, the Washington’s belongings were divided up among the four Custis grandchildren. Items owned by Washington were seen by the public as almost holy relics and as keeper of some of these relics, Nelly was not just connected to her grandfather, but also that aforementioned patriotic power. In the Early Republic, women still fell under the law of coverture, a legal status that bound them to their fathers and then husbands. Despite being a wealthy, slave owning woman, Nelly’s legal identity was under Lawrence and not her own, so she was able to find her individuality through her relationship with George Washington.

As someone who was raised by Washington, she had a unique understanding of his character and personality. Beyond her anxieties over her children’s health, her concerns regarding Washington’s legacy and memory loomed large in her mind. She was quick to defend his legacy and relished her connection to him. In her later years, Nelly’s connection to Washington became a driving, but dimming, force in her life. After the death of Lawrence in 1839, she left Woodlawn and moved to Audley, the Lewises’ second plantation in the Shenandoah Valley. Even more isolated from the public at Audley than she was at Woodlawn, Nelly received few visitors and seldom traveled. Her greatest comfort during this time were letters from friends, especially Elizabeth Bordley.[27] Woodlawn, a place that was intended to bring joy but instead was the home of so much grief, sat vacant until it was finally sold in 1846. Shortly before her death, Nelly returned to visit her former home, and found herself disappointed in the state of the grounds. Her garden, rosebushes, and Agnes’ grove were gone but “sweet recollections linger there still.”[28]

Nelly’s letters during the later year of her life are filled with nostalgia and longing for times and people long passed, particularly George and Martha Washington. Her opinions on topics such as birth night balls honoring Washington or the state of the grounds at Mount Vernon continued until the end of her life.[29] In the summer of 1850, Nelly suffered a stroke which greatly impacted her mobility. When she died on July 15, 1852 at the age of seventy-four, she had outlived her grandparents, parents, husband, and all but one child. Shortly after, she made the journey across the Shenandoah mountains one last time. Her body lay in repose in the New Room at Mount Vernon, the very place where she took her vows fifty-three years earlier. The next day, she was entombed alongside her beloved grandparents, finally at rest.

Nelly’s life was intrinsically linked to Washington. Even today, her home of Woodlawn is viewed as a Washington heritage site, despite the fact that Washington himself never set foot in the home. The death of George Washington undoubtedly changed the trajectory of Nelly’s life and was a loss she never recovered from. In an instant, her life changed from joy to sorrow. Bedridden from childbirth complications and unable to say goodbye to the man she viewed as father caused Nelly to be an overbearing and obsessive mother. Only one of her children, her eldest daughter Parke, outlived her.

Each loss Nelly suffered was compounded by the lack of a supportive marriage. As she grew up witnessing the supportive partnership of her grandparents, Nelly likely assumed that her future would follow a similar path. Unfortunately, her husband’s lack of ambition and character further reminded her of her losses. Had she chosen a more emotionally equal partner, it is likely Nelly’s life would have been vastly improved. Instead, she shouldered the heavy burden of her losses alone. While Nelly was able to find comfort in the memories of her past, she was never able to move past them.

[1] Eleanor Parke Custis Lewis to Elizabeth Bordley Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, ed. Patricia Brady (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1991), 61.

[2] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 65.

[3] George Washington to Eleanor Parke Custis, March 21, 1796, Founders Online, National

Archives, founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/05-19-02-0470

[4] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 24.

[5] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 39.

[6] Lewis to Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, 58.

[7] Cassandra A. Good, First Family: George Washington’s Heirs and the Making of America (Toronto: Hanover Square Press, 2023), 105.

[8] Ibid., 104.

[9] George Washington, “February 1799,” Founders Online, National Archives, founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/01-06-02-0008-0002.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Lewis to Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, 62.

[12] Washington to Lawrence Lewis, September 20, 1799,” Founders Online, National Archives, founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/06-04-02-0263-0001.

[13] Mary Thompson, “The Lowest Ebb of Misery: Death and Mourning in the Family of George

Washington,” Historic Alexandria Quarterly Spring 2001 (2001): 1-14:

https://media.alexandriava.gov/docs-archives/historic/haq/historicalexandriaquarterly2001spring.pdf

[14] Thompson, “The Lowest Ebb of Misery.”

[15] Lewis to Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, 65.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Good, First Family, 290.

[18] Ibid., 291.

[19] Ibid., 203.

[20] Lewis to Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, 92.

[21] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 89.

[22] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 119.

[23] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 152.

[24] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 159.

[25] Good, First Family, 223.

[26] Lewis to Gibson, April 29, 1823, A-569.082, Box: 3, Folder: 1823.04.29. Elizabeth Bordley Gibson collection, A-569. Special Collections at The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon, archives.mountvernon.org/repositories/3/archival_objects/15081; Lewis to Lewis William Washington: copy, January 31, 1852, Box: 9, Folder: 04. Peter family papers, RM-1186. Special Collections at The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon, archives.mountvernon.org/repositories/3/archival_objects/13920

[27] Lewis to Gibson, in George Washington’s Beautiful Nelly, 265.

[28] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 260.

[29] Lewis to Gibson, ibid., 199.