The Washingtons

by Flora Fraser

  In January, the Supreme Executive Council, with Joseph Reed at its head, requested of Washington his full-length likeness, to be taken by Charles Willson Peale, for their council chamber. In addition, Peale had commissions for portraits of the commander from both M. Gérard, who wished to send one to His Most Christian Majesty the King of France, and from Don Juan de Miralles, the Spanish agent in Philadelphia, who had his own royal master in mind. Though Martha appears to have been an enthusiast for the project, for once Washington escaped a duty he disliked. Owing to pressure of other business, sittings were deferred.

  The commander was, by January 29, fretting to leave Philadelphia, citing, in a letter to President Jay, the “many inconveniences to the common business of the army” that his long stay in the city had occasioned. Jay did not acquiesce in his request without extracting his pound of flesh. With the Washingtons’ departure set for February 2, the previous morning the general and Jay visited artist Pierre Eugène du Simitière at his house. The commander, the artist noted, “condescended with great good nature to sit about three-fourths of an hour” for a profile in black lead, “form of a medal.” Du Simitière profited from the sitting with a number of engravings. The delegates and populace of Philadelphia continued to feud and feast. George and Martha departed, as planned, the following day and on February 5 reached Middlebrook.

  Correspondence with his cousin Lund at Mount Vernon and with Jacky over the course of this winter had brought Washington no solace. Before he left for Philadelphia, he had written to Lund, “I am afraid Jack Custis, in spite of all the admonition and advice I gave him against selling faster than he bought, is making a ruinous hand of his Estate.” He had touched then on the depreciation of current money, or Virginia money—as the paper bills now issued by the Commonwealth of Virginia and denominated in pounds, shillings, and pence, were indifferently known—against the Spanish silver dollar.1 Pondering, in Middlebrook, on February 24, 1779, the sale of his slaves “at public vendue,” or auction, Washington was irresolute: “if these poor wretches are to be held in a state of slavery, I do not see that a change of masters will render it more irksome, provided husband & wife, and Parents & children are not separated from each other, which is not my intention to do.” But the depreciation of the currency was yet again paramount in his mind. Being at such a distance, he could not judge when the “tide of depreciation” had turned, and it was the optimum time to sell. It was a point of such nicety, he wrote, that the longer he reflected upon the subject the more at a loss he was. Before the war an adult male slave of working age might have commanded a price of a hundred pounds. While his cousin agonized at headquarters, Lund had, in January, sold on his behalf nine slaves, including Phyllis, Bett, and Orford, for a total of £2,303 19s.

  At Middlebrook, where George and Martha remained from February till early June 1779, the weather was consistently mild and moderate. The hutting and the heavily wooded site afforded the troops a degree of comfort and warmth. But the depreciation of the currency had alarming consequences both for the provisioning of the current army and for the recruiting of future regiments. Washington wrote to President Jay toward the end of April: “a waggon-load of money will scarcely purchase a waggon-load of provisions.” A week later he wrote to New York delegate Gouverneur Morris, referring to the reluctance of both officers and men to soldier for the beggarly sum that was their pay: “Our army, as it now stands, is but little more than the skeleton of an army; and I hear of no steps that are taking to give it strength and substance.”

  Martha shared other of his anxieties with Jacky and Nelly, writing from Middlebrook in March: “all is quiet in this quarter. It is from the southward that we expect to hear news. We are very anxious to know how our affairs are going in that quarter.” A British expeditionary force from New York had launched a successful attack on Savannah late the previous year, and General Lincoln feared for the patriot garrison at Charleston.

  At Middlebrook, as in other winter encampments, Washington had officers of the different regiments on duty to dine at his table together with his chiefs of staff, his aides and secretaries. and other guests. Now that Martha was with him, Lucy Knox and Caty Greene, living close by at Pluckemin and Bound Brook respectively, were often of the party. When Massachusetts army surgeon John Thacher dined at the Wallace house on February 25, no hint of the difficulties facing Washington was vouchsafed. Searching in his host’s countenance for “some peculiar traces of excellence,” Thacher found it “fine, cheerful, open” and expressive in conversation. But writing of the “veneration and respect” and even love that Washington commanded, he added: “He is feared even when silent.” Washington’s silences could unnerve the most confident. In conversation, Thacher further observed, “a placid smile is frequently observed on his lips, but a loud laugh, it is said, seldom if ever escapes him.” The general, he noted, while attentive to all, left his guests “after the compliment of a few glasses.” The Washingtons were adept and efficient hosts and, unlike at Philadelphia, could retire at leisure. Of Martha, Thacher remarked that she was uncommonly dignified as well as affable, if displaying “no striking marks of beauty.” He heard, too, from the “Virginia officers” that she was honored for her benevolence and charity, ever “seeking for objects of affliction and poverty that she may extend to the sufferers the hand of kindness and relief.” Thacher went away with exactly the degree of confidence in the commander that these dinners were designed to engender.

  There was, in fact, a new energy about Washington. Following his impressive performance before the Committee of Conference, Congress had effectively ceded to him direction of the grand strategy of the war. A year earlier this had been the precinct of Gates and an obstructive Board of War. Now the general, with “Lady Washington” at his side, and the Knoxes and Greenes willing accomplices, embarked on a series of successful enterprises in the rustic setting of the Raritan valley. They convinced Congress that Washington should also be vested with the power to conduct direct joint operations with the French in America. The first of these enterprises was a vastly expensive entertainment, a belated celebration of the first anniversary of the alliance with France, that Henry Knox hosted on February 18 in the academy at the artillery park at Pluckemin. Knox later described the occasion to his brother with some pride: “A most genteel entertainment given by self & officers—everybody allowed it to be the first of the kind ever exhibited in this state at least—three to four hundred gentlemen and above seventy Ladies—all of the first ton in the State.” Fireworks and elaborate allegorical transparencies—large scenes painted on glass or translucent cloth, back-lit—occupied a part of the evening, and Washington led off the dancing with Lucy Knox. Washington, meditating further entertainment, sent to Mitchell in February for a service of “Queen’s china” (Queen’s ware), the creamware from England off which they dined when en famille at Mount Vernon.

  As was intended, private accounts as well as newspaper paragraphs giving details of this distinguished compliment to France inclined M. Gérard, in Philadelphia, to take a kindly view of the American high command. At Middlebrook the Washingtons and the “family” and other officers and ladies got up another, more private, entertainment. General Greene wrote to a friend on March 19: “We had a little dance at my quarters a few evenings past. His Excellency and Mrs Greene danced upwards of three hours without once sitting down. Upon the whole we had a pretty little frisk.”

  News came in April that M. Gérard himself, together with Don Juan de Miralles, had accepted Washington’s invitation to review the army at Middlebrook. Though the review was deferred until May 2, Henry Laurens was one of many from Philadelphia who made a point of traveling to New Jersey to be among the company on the day. On a stage erected in a “spacious field,” Martha, Lucy Knox, and Caty Greene, preeminent among the other ladies, took their places. The whole of the army was paraded “in martial array” on the field. Thirteen cannons then signaled the approach of Major Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee—cousin to the Lees
of Stratford Hall—and his dragoons. Behind followed Washington, his aides, the “foreign ministers” or envoys and their retinues, and general officers. Once these dignitaries had reviewed the ranks and received full military honors, they joined the ladies on the stage, while the army performed wondrous “field manoeuvres and evolutions, with firing of cannon and musketry.”

  If the review impressed upon the Europeans that the American army was a credible fighting force, it was only a lure. During the conferences and dinners that followed, Washington wished to return to the project of joint operations with the Comte d’Estaing and his fleet, which had come to such a resounding halt the previous summer. He wished also to pay proper respect to the Spanish agent, de Miralles. Though it was not news as yet to be shared with the public, he knew from President Jay that Spain aimed to ally with France against Great Britain, with the object of recovering Gibraltar and other territories lost in the Seven Years’ War. Under the terms of the proposed treaty, Spain would enter the American war as France’s ally.

  Martha, it would appear, struck Don Juan’s fancy during the foreign envoys’ stay in Middlebrook. From Philadelphia he was to shower her, in proper diplomatic fashion, with luxuries from Havana and other Spanish possessions. Washington’s conversations with Gérard also bore fruit. When the minister plenipotentiary wrote home to the French foreign minister, the Comte de Vergennes, for the first time he praised an American. With Washington, he favored rekindling the joint operations with the Comte d’Estaing’s fleet.

  Those whom the Washingtons courted would not always be as suave as Gérard and Don Juan. The outlandish and ragged appearance of some Delaware Indian chiefs, who this same month came to pay their respects to Washington while en route to Philadelphia, provoked much mirth in Middlebrook. But the commander treated them with as much courtesy as he had the Europeans and led them on a review of the troops. Their support would be crucial in summer operations against the British and Indians in the West, which he had entrusted to John Sullivan.

  At last Washington heard that the British had come out of New York and were heading up the Hudson. He had to move fast to defend West Point and other key positions on the river. Martha left for Virginia, Washington was to tell a Mount Vernon neighbor later in the month, “so soon as I began my march from Middlebrook,” that date being June 3. The couple could not know the time or place of their next meeting. They could pride themselves on having restored to some degree, on the Raritan plain, the reputation of America in the eyes of the world that was France and Spain.

  * * *

  1 Like everyone else, the American commander-in-chief avoided, when he could, transactions in the Continental dollars issued by Congress. While Virginia currency depreciated alarmingly against the Spanish dollar, the Continental dollar was rapidly becoming all but worthless. In 1777 $115 Continental currency had had a value of a hundred dollars cash. In May 1779, $1,215 Continental currency secured the same sum. A year thence a hundred Spanish dollars would be equivalent to $4,600 in Continental money.

  18

  The Hard Winter: Morristown, 1779–1780

  “so extremely cold, that there was no living abroad”

  SHOULD THE BRITISH TAKE West Point and other American garrisons on the Hudson, patriot forces would be denied the easy access to militia, troops, and supplies that New England currently afforded. Washington had no option but to strike camp and march north. He took with him a ring, set with a tiny and fanciful image of Martha in Elizabethan ruff and hood. While still at Middlebrook, he wrote on May 28 to Nicholas Rogers, now a colonel and author of the quaint souvenir: “Difficult as it is to strike a likeness on so small a scale, it is the opinion of many that you have not failed in the present attempt.” He added dryly: “The dress is not less pleasing for being a copy of antiquity. It would be happy for us, if in these days of depravity the imitation of our ancestors were more extensively adopted—their virtues would not hurt us.”

  Washington later admitted to his brother John Augustine that he was “illy enough prepared, Heaven knows,” in the month of June 1779, to defend the Hudson against British attack. Ammunition, provisions, and wagons for the journey were lacking. Troops in the different winter cantonments were dispersed over a wide area and would have to rendezvous in the north. Washington feared, moreover, that the British troops might yet double back and launch an assault on New Jersey, with Philadelphia their ultimate aim. He ordered government stores and vital papers in that city to be moved to secure locations. The pleasant conditions in camp these months past, however, and the discipline that von Steuben had introduced had had their effect. The army he led was now in comparatively good spirits.

  Martha was escorted southward by her husband’s principal secretary, Colonel James McHenry. They appear to have followed a circuitous route. Both American and British commanders at different times meditated kidnap of their enemy counterparts and of key enemy generals. Irrespective of the anxiety he himself would undergo, her husband was aware that the capture of “Lady Washington”—Martha was by now firmly established in American minds as a high personage of irreproachable patriotism—would sap the morale of citizenry as well as of soldiers. It must at all costs be avoided. Unharmed, Martha arrived at Mount Vernon in late July. Her grandchildren, newly ensconced with their parents at Abingdon, now numbered three: Nelly had given birth in March to another daughter. Jacky, though a fond father, was still in want of an heir.

  The young Parke Custises were struggling to establish a comfortable home. Nelly had not been in good health since she gave birth that year. At some point following Martha’s return, it would seem that she took over the care of her infant granddaughter, Eleanor Parke Custis. An English nurse, Mrs. Anderson, and the baby became resident at Mount Vernon. The elder two Parke Custis children, Bet and Pat, remained with their ailing mother and their father at Abingdon. Jacky was not finding the responsibilities of home ownership easy. He was to complain to his stepfather in December of “the great load of family business which demands my utmost attention…I have been, ever since I settled here, struggling with every inconvenience that a person could meet with, in coming to a plantation in every respect out of order and in want of every necessary house…the master’s eye is necessary in most things.” An ambitious project to drain some swampy ground caused him infinite trouble, but Jacky, optimistic to the last, concluded: “I flatter myself with having in a few years one of the best meadows in the state.”

  Far away in the north, while the American army was still some way from the Hudson, grim news reached Washington. The British had captured key garrisons, Stony Point and Fort Lafayette, on either bank of the Hudson. Washington wrote to Philip Schuyler on June 9: “We have the mortification to be spectators of this and…to see it out of our power to counteract a measure, from which we must experience many inconveniences.” He established headquarters later in the month at New Windsor, six miles above West Point, a stronghold he intended to defend against all comers. Following the loss of the garrisons, festivities in camp, to mark the third anniversary of independence, were muted.

  Within days Washington learned that British generals William Tryon and Thomas Garth had sailed up Long Island Sound, plundered New Haven, and burned the public stores on July 6. Three days later they burned Fairfield, Connecticut, and on the eleventh, Norwalk. Houses, barns, stores, the church, the meetinghouses, schoolhouses, courthouses, and jails alike were torched. The monetary value of what was lost was immense. The mood of even the most fervent patriots in the eastern states was soured. Washington asked General Anthony Wayne to assess the “practicability” of an assault on Stony Point: “If it is undertaken, I should conceive it ought to be done by way of surprise in the night.” A laconic entry in the commander’s accounts records the success of Wayne’s enterprise on the night of the fifteenth: “To expenses in reconnoitring the enemy’s post at Stony Point previous to the assault of it, and on a visit to it after it was taken…£10.10.” The recapture of the garrison raised spirits drama
tically. Five days thereafter President Jay addressed Washington in the following terms: “General Wayne’s coup de main occasions as much joy as the barbarous conflagrations of the enemy excite indignation. The former, I hope, will lead to further successes, the latter to retaliation and resentments favourable to our independence.”

  During the summer the American commander oversaw the strengthening of fortifications at West Point and in addition worked with the Board of War to standardize uniforms in accordance with regulations for the army that von Steuben had recently issued. His attention never drifted far from the dangers of campaigns to come. He wrote, on August 1, to Edmund Randolph in Virginia that they labored under the effects of “two of the greatest evils that can befall a state of war, namely, a reduced army at the beginning of a campaign which, more than probably, is intended for a decisive one, and want of money, or rather a redundancy of it, by which it become of no value.” The term of no fewer than 8,000 troops who had enlisted for three years in 1777 would expire in May 1780. It was difficult to persuade officers or men to reenlist, when their livelihoods at home were threatened by an ever-depreciating currency and when negligible army pay was no lure. But discussion of these deficiencies, both in Congress and in state assemblies, was often heated and ill tempered and more often than not productive of stasis. In Philadelphia, Henry Laurens and Robert Morris lamented the political divisions in Congress. In Paris, the French government was disturbed by reports of these differences. At West Point, Washington and his “family” and staff corresponded with all parties concerned and urged action to secure men, money, arms, powder, and stores.