Washington’s general orders the next day were firm, expressing his “disapprobation of such disorderly proceedings” and requesting an official meeting on March 15. The temper of that meeting was rebellious even after their commander walked in and made some introductory comments. But when he started to read his prepared remarks, he had to put on his glasses, and as he did so he said, “Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray, but almost blind, in the service of my country.” The right words at the right time broke the possible mutiny; loyal officers took over and worked out a compromise with Congress.
Martha was with him during this stressful time, supporting him as he mediated the estrangement between the army that had been treated so shabbily and the Congress (and civil authority) to which he had committed his loyalty. In the next months, he granted furloughs generously, particularly to disaffected troops, keeping them out of trouble and anticipating that they would be demobilized at home. In April 1783, news of an armistice and a provisional peace agreement arrived at camp.
That summer, Congress left Philadelphia when unpaid troops marched in the streets. They reconvened at Princeton, New Jersey, and summoned Washington there. He postponed their departure until late August 1784 because he still had military affairs to wind up in New York and because Martha was again “exceedingly unwell.” He had no intention of moving until her health allowed her to make the journey with him. He finally left Knox in command on the Hudson River and moved his headquarters to Rocky Hills, New Jersey, four miles north of Princeton. He and Martha moved into the home of Judge Berrien, a two-story frame building with piazzas on a hill a short distance from the Millstone River.
The only soldiers there were Washington’s aides and his guards, whose tents dotted the lawn before the house, along with their captain’s marquee. A young painter enjoyed visiting the house, where he made a crayon drawing of the general. He wrote, “I was quite at home in every respect at head-quarters; to breakfast and dine day after day with the general and Mrs. Washington, and members of congress, and noticed as the young painter, was delicious.”
Martha finally went back to Mount Vernon in early October, “before the weather and roads shou’d get bad,” to prepare for their homecoming. The Revolutionary years of crowded accommodations and jolting coaches would be over very soon, she hoped, and she and her “Old Man” could resume their peaceful life.
At last, at long last, in November, the final treaty arrived and Washington could go home. Congress had adjourned on November 4, to reconvene at Annapolis on November 26. Washington disbanded the bulk of the army and made plans to reoccupy New York City when the British finally left. Washington and Clinton rode at the head of a small force into the city on November 25. New York was a shambles, much worse than Boston had been. In more than seven years’ occupation, trees and bushes had been chopped down, fences and small buildings torn to pieces—all consumed as fuel for British fires.
After a poignant farewell to his officers, Washington set off for Annapolis with his three remaining aides, progress slow because every town on the way wanted to celebrate the end of war with him. It wasn’t until December 18 that Congress had a quorum. On December 23, Washington read his formal Farewell Address, trembling with emotion, returned his commission, and became a private citizen once more—he intended to remain one for the rest of his life.
Throughout the weary years, Washington hadn’t won many battles, but the ones he won were important to the outcome of the Revolution. To most Americans, he represented the sacrifices, ideals, and final success of independence. Duty and vision kept him in the field for most of eight and a half years. It was his steadfastness that inspired the army and kept both soldiers and officers there year after year.
George Washington was the indispensable man to the success of the American Revolution, and Martha Washington was the indispensable woman to him. He could bear all those years away from home, creating a national army, because she spent part of every year with him, no matter how awful the conditions in camp might be. Their mutual love, confidence, and support helped keep him going in the face of every disappointment, setback, and defeat. Every year she made a home for him, where he could rest and refresh his spirits until it was time to go back in the field another time, for however long it took to win the war. Out of those eight and a half years that he spent in command of the army, she was with him for nearly five, more than half the war, in stays ranging from three to ten months. Martha was truly the secret weapon of the American Revolution.
Washington’s own assessment of her importance can be seen in his military expense account. Since he had volunteered to serve without pay, only his expenses were paid. But should Martha’s trips to and from Mount Vernon be included? He had hesitated at the beginning of the war to include her trips because they seemed to be private expenses. However, since he had been forced over time “to postpone the visit I every year contemplated to make my family between the close of one campaign and the opening of another, and, as this expense was incidental thereto, and consequent of my self-denial,” he considered that her trips were therefore necessary to the performance of his military duties and justified repayment. The total cost had been £1,064.1.0—and a bargain at the price, considering her importance to the American cause.
Unlike Napoleon and scores of other revolutionary heroes who have become dictators since, Washington voluntarily gave up power to the civilian authorities. Accompanied by his aides, he galloped away on the long road home. Hard riding brought them to Mount Vernon on Christmas Eve, to the delight of his eager wife and a new family.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mount Vernon and a New Family
George’s baggage arrived home long before he did. Six teams of horses pulling wagons laden with all his camp paraphernalia, tents, marquee, furniture, clothing, and papers arrived sometime in mid-November. For Martha, the two months after she left New Jersey were marked by both busyness and boredom. No journey to winter camp to anticipate, no need to assemble the coachload of supplies she brought with her each year. Domestic and plantation affairs filled some of her time, but she was really just waiting for her husband’s return.
Meanwhile, Martha and her daughter-in-law had agreed on plans for a change in all their lives. Since Jack Custis’s death, Martha and George had doubtless discussed rearing one of her grandchildren when they returned permanently to Mount Vernon at war’s end. To this most maternal of women, a childless home was sadly empty even when long visits from nieces and nephews helped fill the gap.
Martha had even broached the idea of fostering a grandchild while her son was still living. His heart set on a son, Jack had written a bitterly disappointed letter to his mother when Nelly gave birth to a second daughter, named for his mother. Martha promptly offered to bring up the unwanted baby girl at Mount Vernon. Perhaps at Nelly’s behest, he declined: “You took the advantage of Me to ask for her just after my Disappointment. I do not know how to comply for I could not have loved It better if It had been a Boy.”
Now, Jack’s beautiful widow had remarried and was again pregnant. Martha and George liked and respected her second husband, David Stuart, a physician who practiced in Alexandria. The Stuarts continued to live at Abingdon but frequently came for long visits at Mount Vernon. That pleasant pattern would be maintained—with a change. The two oldest children, Betsy and Patty, would remain with their mother and stepfather. Granting Martha’s wish, however, Nelly agreed that the two youngest, little Nelly and Washington Custis, could live at Mount Vernon as the adopted children of the Washingtons. Complicated, distant estates to manage for her son were as daunting to Nelly as the wish to please her beloved mother-in-law was strong.
Adoptions within a family were commonplace in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Childless aunts, uncles, and cousins or lonely grandparents often reared relatives’ children, especially those from large families. With or without legal action or a change of surname, these children lived with and were
publicly accepted as heirs of their adoptive family without giving up a loving relationship with their birth parents.
With George’s arrival at home, Nelly and Washy remained permanently at Mount Vernon. Martha adored the children and devoted herself to them, nursing them through the measles they broke out with in January. Her lost children were replaced by this second generation. Nelly was a sparkling brunette beauty who favored her mother and her aunt Patsy, while enjoying robust health. Two-year-old Washy Custis was a cheerful, friendly little soul with fair hair and blue eyes, so chubby as a toddler that he was called Tub.
History repeated itself as Martha spoiled and favored the lazy little boy while George preferred the winsome, talented girl. Martha put her adoration of Washy clearly: “My pritty little Dear Boy complains of a pain his stomach. . . . I cannot say but it makes me miserable if ever he complains let the cause be ever so trifling. I hope the almighty will spare him to me.” There was nothing that pleased her more than having her “little family . . . prattling about me.”
The end of the war brought other changes to the inhabitants of Mount Vernon. Elizabeth and Lund Washington moved to their newly built house, Hayfield, five miles away on land that George deeded to his cousin in payment of a debt. They were close enough, though, for frequent visits and dinners.
Martha’s niece Frances Bassett, just turned sixteen, was visiting at Mount Vernon during this time. When Fanny’s mother died in 1777, Martha had written to her brother-in-law Burwell Bassett: “My dear sister [Nancy Bassett] in her life time often mentioned my taking my dear Fanny if she should be taken away before she grew up. If you will lett her come to live with me, I will with greatest plasure take her and be a parent and mother to her as long as I live.” This was meant to be not an adoption, but rather an opportunity for a young girl to learn all the accomplishments of a lady, including the chance to find a good husband. Williamsburg was no longer the center of social life (Richmond had become the capital in 1780), and northern Virginia had grown in importance. The Revolution had dragged on, and only now was Fanny able to join her aunt.
A willowy brunette with large eyes, she had a pensive, ethereal air. Almost at once, she found just the husband she wanted, and the feeling was quite mutual. Close on the general’s heels, his favorite nephew, the son of his youngest brother, Charles, had arrived at Mount Vernon. A few years older than Fanny, George Augustine Washington had fought throughout the Revolution, serving as Lafayette’s aide at Yorktown.
With the family connection, no doubt they had met throughout the years, but now Fanny had grown up. The gallant soldier was a romantic figure himself, handsome and heroic. By April, their romance had progressed to the point that a family friend referred to him as “her Major.” But marriage had to wait for his health to improve; he suffered badly from chest pains, weight loss, fatigue, and overall debility. His uncle George, despite his own straitened finances, gave him £140 to go to the West Indies. George Augustine sailed away in May, leaving Fanny behind at Mount Vernon.
Later in the summer, Fanny went home for a visit before returning to live permanently at Mount Vernon. Even though the house was filled with company, Martha missed her badly, and so did the children. She was a very compatible girl. On Christmas Eve, shortly after her seventeenth birthday, her father, Burwell Bassett, brought his daughter back to live with her aunt and uncle while she awaited the return of her fiancé. Burwell stayed with the gay family party until New Year’s Day. Nelly and David Stuart were there with Betsy, Patty, and their new baby daughter, Nancy.
Fanny attended weddings and parties in Alexandria and Dumfries, staying a couple of weeks at a time, as she made friends with the Craiks, Blackburns, Washingtons, and other neighborhood young people who gathered at these celebrations. Of course, she spent a good deal of time with Martha as well, talking, sewing, and playing with the children. She also liked to ride with her uncle on his plantation rounds.
After a year spent traveling in search of health in Barbados, the Leeward Islands, Bermuda, and South Carolina, George Augustine returned to Mount Vernon on a beautiful Saturday in May 1785 while the wood honeysuckle was in full bloom. The reports he had sent during his travels had not been encouraging. His uncle, at least, didn’t hold very high hopes for this treatment, although he had paid for it. He wrote a friend about George Augustine, “Poor young fellow! his pursuit after health is, I fear, altogether fruitless.” Everyone seemed to realize that he was consumptive—that is, that he had tuberculosis. Yet somehow, no one thought it unwise that he should become George’s plantation manager or marry Martha’s young niece.
In July 1785, the household was further increased by the arrival of William Shaw, a British Canadian. The young man came highly recommended by friends for the position of “Clerk or Secretary” that George needed to write letters, keep the plantation books, organize his military papers, represent him in business matters, “& occasionally to devote a small portion of time to initiate two little children (a Girl of six, & a boy of four years of age) . . . in the first rudiments of Education.” Shaw remained a little over a year but spent too much time gadding about on pleasure jaunts; his departure in 1786 was overdue, but he remained on good terms with the family.
In April 1785, Martha’s mother died at the age of seventy-five, followed nine days later by Bat Dandridge, her only surviving brother (her brother William had drowned during the Revolution). His son John, an attorney and planter, took over the support of his mother and the six other children, becoming one of those reliable nephews who helped keep the family going. Of her seven siblings, only Martha’s youngest sister, Betsy, was still living, unhappily married to an alcoholic who swilled brandy all day. He managed one of the Custis estates for a time—another act of family charity.
George’s brother Samuel, five times married and deeply in debt, had died during the Revolution, leaving his three children by his fourth wife virtually penniless, with neither their stepmother nor their grown half-brothers able to care for them. George found himself responsible for Sam’s wild youngsters. Because of their chaotic family life, none of them had received much supervision, and their rudeness, disobedience, and frequent slovenliness made them a trial to everybody. He eventually put the boys, George Steptoe and Lawrence Augustine Washington, into the Alexandria Academy. Harriot, three years older than Nelly, had been living with relatives but came to Mount Vernon in 1786, where her messiness was beyond even Martha’s ability to correct. In 1787, George’s favorite brother, Jack, died at the age of fifty-one.
After George Augustine’s return, Burrell Bassett sent his written consent for the marriage of his underage daughter. Her older brother brought the letter and stayed for the wedding. On October 14, 1785, a clear, fine Friday with the temperature in the upper sixties, the young couple were married at Mount Vernon just after the candles were lit. Friends from Alexandria helped them celebrate. Later that year, George Augustine took over management of the estate. He and Fanny took Lund and Eliza Washington’s place in the household, living there as family members and congenial friends.
Shaw’s replacement as secretary/tutor was a Harvard graduate and New Hampshire native, Tobias Lear. After their unsatisfactory experience with Shaw, he was hired only for a year’s trial, coming to Mount Vernon in May 1786. There could hardly have been a greater contrast; he devoted himself to the Washingtons’ interests and became an indispensable part of their family and social life—intelligent, responsible, a good conversationalist, and a better writer. With the children, he was firm and well organized but also kind and appreciative of their efforts. Martha soon came to love the young man who had been recommended as having “the character of a Gentleman & a schooler.” And he returned that love. He described her as “everything that is benevolent & good—I honor her as a second mother & receive from her all those attentions which I should look for from her who bore me.”
During these years, a great number of visitors came to stay—and stay. The general’s celebrity was a magnet drawin
g guests. Washington had become an international hero, the object of intense admiration at home and abroad. A pilgrimage to pay their respects to the hero of the American Revolution was de rigueur for many—Europeans taking a look at the colonies that had cast off their king, former colleagues in arms, mere acquaintances, and strangers who could scrape up the shadow of an introduction or even none at all.
His celebrity attracted the visitors, but Martha took care of them. The Washingtons’ social code called for gracious entertainment; they felt duty-bound to put up with impertinent strangers who wanted to question Washington closely about his career. Martha often found herself consulting with the house servants about adding extra dishes for dinner or making up beds in the hallways. Often, too, in the evenings George would retire to his library to read or answer correspondence while she and the invaluable Lear kept their guests occupied and entertained. George knew he could depend on Martha’s incomparable conversational skills as she talked with guests about politics, the war, the founding of the American nation, or whatever subject they desired.
On one occasion, George left an English traveler, John Hunter, to the company of Fanny and Martha, and the talk soon turned to military matters. Hunter wrote later, “It’s astonishing with what raptures Mrs. Washington spoke about the discipline of the army, the excellent order they were in, superior to any troops she said upon the face of the earth towards the close of the war; even the English acknowledged it, she said. What pleasure she took in the sound of the fifes and drums, preferring it to any music that was ever heard; and then to see them reviewed a week or two before the men disbanded, when they were all well clothed was she said a most heavenly sight; almost every soldier shed tears at parting with the General when the army was disbanded: Mrs. Washington said it was a most melancholy sight.” His astonishment was no doubt based on the novelty of hearing a woman talk knowledgeably and passionately about war and patriotism—considered by the English to be men’s business.
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