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CHATHAM aS a terraced hill overlooking the Rappahannock pees with the spires and steeples of the historic town of Fredericksburg in the distance, Chatham lies, sleeping in the sun, dreaming of the romances of days gone by. The charm of old books, the mellowness of old a he Teed of old lace, the potency of old wine—all of these sensations are recalled when coming suddenly upon its greenshuttered windows and white walls, embowered in masses of boxwood and evergreen plants—all steeped in a strange allure. From below, the old town has its memories, too; the boyhood pranks of no less a personage than George Washington; and long before that, the struggles and privations of the pioneer settlers. Then came the days of the coach-and-four, of clanking of swords, of powdered wigs and stiff broaches, of LaFayette’s visits and of royal entertainments given in his honor. Then came the days that left their scars upon the gray old town during the War Between the States, when Lee’s army defended it against overwhelming odds. Through the quaint old streets, each house has its own story. There is the home of Mary Washington with its box-edged garden path which led to the home of Betty Washington, the wife of Colonel Fielding Lewis. On a magnificent estate of more than fifty thousand acres, Chatham was built in the year 1728 by William Fitzhugh, that patriotic and able statesman, known as “Fitzhugh of Chatham.”’ It was named, supposedly, after his friend, Sir William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, and there is a family tradition that the plans were brought from England by Pitt. ‘The simplicity of the long low mansion with its ample wings has stood the test of time and today [203]
