Washington’s salient traits through life included a gift for organization and a powerful air of command. Underneath those qualities lurked a fearsome temper, one he struggled to master. He shared those qualities with his mother, as well as a passion for horses and riding. Thomas Jefferson (himself an admired rider) recalled Washington as “the most graceful figure that could be seen on horseback.” A key to riding well is a close connection between horse and rider. The rider must be in command, which came naturally for mother and son. But the rider also must feel and respond to the horse, forming a nonverbal connection. Mother and son could do that too.13
That Washington might be formal in dealing with his mother is hardly startling for a man with his reserved nature. He was not one to grow maudlin over a mother’s love as the punch bowl drained. His mother, too, plainly kept rein over her emotions. Effusions of sentiment would not flow between two such buttoned-up people, yet Washington usually visited her when he was near Fredericksburg, and managed her affairs as she aged.
* * *
When George was six, his father’s ambitions uprooted the family again. To be closer to his ironworks, Gus bought a house and farm across the Rappahannock River from bustling Fredericksburg.
The move covered only forty miles, but the change was considerable. No longer surrounded by empty acres, the family lived on a main road. A ferry crossed the river at the foot of their land and gave the home its name, Ferry Farm. Wagons rumbled by. Ships ascended the Rappahannock and docked at the town wharf.14
The new home, perched on a bluff above the river, had seven rooms for a family with five children below the age of seven. George was the eldest. Next came the only girl, Betty, and Samuel (four), Jack (two), and Charles (eight months). The surrounding lands totaled only three hundred acres. Gus focused on mining, not farming.15
At roughly the same time, another powerful figure entered Washington’s life. His half-brother Lawrence returned from school in England and occupied the vacated estate at Little Hunting Creek.16 Fourteen years older than George, Lawrence combined the camaraderie of a brother with nearly adult authority and the polish acquired overseas. George idolized him.
Shortly after arriving, Lawrence became captain of a Virginia company that joined a British attack on Cartagena, in what is now Colombia. Decked out in his uniform, serving king and country, Lawrence took on heroic stature in his younger brother’s eyes.17
The expedition, however, was a wretched failure. Captain Lawrence Washington and his Virginians never left their ships. He acknowledged in a letter home that the Spanish had killed six hundred of the attacking British, but “the climate killed us in greater number.”
Despite the inglorious experience, Lawrence described it in an offhand fashion sure to fire a boy’s dreams of glory. “War is horrid in fact,” Lawrence wrote, “but much more so in imagination.” The Virginians had to learn to “disregard the noise or shot of cannon.”18 Returning home in 1742, Lawrence could tell of broad oceans, Spanish forts, amphibious assaults, and the world beyond Ferry Farm. George’s eyes had to widen at the sight of Lawrence’s sword, inspired to lead his younger brothers in mock battles along the Rappahannock.
The Cartagena expedition’s failure did not dampen Lawrence’s military ardor. Though only twenty-four and still without combat experience, he became adjutant of the Virginia militia. The likely force behind that appointment was his neighbor Colonel William Fairfax, who was beginning years of sponsoring Washingtons.19
Lawrence was the first Washington to leave behind a portrait, by an unknown artist, which shows a dark young man with an open countenance and modest physical vitality. The face has well-defined eyebrows, a high forehead, a strong jaw, and a chin dimple. Only a certain meatiness to the nose suggests his younger half-brother. The portrait does not reveal the charm and ability that must have fueled Lawrence’s success.
In the spring of 1743, Gus fell ill and died. Death was a constant in the eighteenth century. When George was three, his older half-sister died; a baby sister died when he was eight. Neither death could prepare him for the loss of his father, which removed the family’s central financial support.
In a will composed on his deathbed, Gus followed Virginia traditions by favoring his two elder sons. Lawrence received roughly 40 percent of the assets, including the iron mine and Little Hunting Creek. Second son Austin acquired the original family home on Popes Creek and surrounding lands, plus other property. George, only eleven, got Ferry Farm, some lots in Fredericksburg, a half share in another parcel, and ten slaves. It was more than many Virginians owned, but placed him at the low end of the gentry.20 Until he came of age, his mother would manage his property and slaves; he was past forty before he controlled Ferry Farm. Gus left less to his younger children.
Mary got less too. She would have to support her family with what she could earn from Ferry Farm, from five years of income from the Popes Creek property, and from a parcel she owned before marriage.
The family’s horizons shrank. No more Washingtons attended school in England. George always would be self-conscious about his limited education. In a later time of financial distress, Washington wrote that he had “never felt the want of money so sensibly since I was a boy of 15 years old.” Neither mother nor son would ever be free of financial anxiety.
For the next decade, Lawrence served as George’s surrogate father, role model, and companion. Little Hunting Creek, which Lawrence named Mount Vernon after his former commander, became George’s second home, a place of refuge from being the eldest son of a hard-pressed single mother. Most conspicuously, Lawrence would set an example for mounting a pell-mell assault on the top echelon of Virginia society.
At age fourteen, George described Lawrence more simply, as his best friend.21
Chapter 3
The School of Fairfax
Washington was vague about his education, including whether he was tutored at home or attended school. He offered no fond remembrances of lessons or instructors. At a time when gentlemen knew languages and the classics, Washington learned neither. His schoolwork shows no exposure to philosophy or political thought, nor to Shakespeare. While his mother evidently molded his character and imbued in him the Christian religion, Washington acquired much of his learning from books and from the world around him—most conspicuously, from the Fairfax family of Belvoir, one estate over from Lawrence’s home at Mount Vernon.1
Lawrence built the first link to the Fairfaxes by marrying the daughter of Colonel William Fairfax, master of Belvoir, only three months after Gus Washington’s death in 1743. Anne Fairfax brought 4,000 acres into the marriage, which was a minute portion of her family’s Virginia domain, which equaled New Hampshire in size. The lasting Fairfax legacy, though, would be George Washington.
* * *
Washington’s boyhood copybooks, lovingly preserved, reflect math and science that a teacher must have explained. Calculations appear in a fine hand and without crossing out, the answers derived elsewhere and then transcribed. Geometric figures are drawn crisply. An aesthetic sensibility shows in decorated title pages.
The lessons prepared him to be an owner of land and slaves. To learn decimals, Washington calculated interest on loans. He estimated the floor area of a building or the size of a land parcel. He figured the volume of containers for grain and liquor. He studied legal forms: bills of exchange, land leases, and servant indentures. A few pages record information about distant lands, which always intrigued Washington.
Washington was adept at quantitative and mechanical subjects, but the written word challenged him. His early compositions were woefully tangled, the sentences weighed down with complex clauses and grandiloquent vocabulary. Over many years, Washington would simplify and strengthen his writing, but also would rely on talented wordsmiths like James Madison and Alexander Hamilton.2
Ferry Farm was not cluttered with books. Gus Washington was a man of business. Mary’s let
ters show that she, like most women of the time, had little education, though she was a devoted reader of religious works. Washington also became an eager reader, inhaling The Spectator, Joseph Addison’s London-based newspaper that circulated in bound volumes and was considered the model of graceful composition. On a visit to a home with a library, Washington dove into a history of English kings, getting as far as King John.3
He read Defoe’s Tour Thro’ the Whole Island of Great Britain. Military adventure came from Caesar’s Commentaries and the biography of a German military hero. The stoicism of Seneca’s Morals was heavier fare, but included prescriptions with Washingtonian resonance. “Hope and fear,” Seneca warned, “are the bane of human life.” He also advised that “contempt of death makes all the miseries of life easy to us.”4
One feature of Washington’s education has drawn disproportionate attention: his copying of 110 “Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior,” a code of conduct drafted by French Jesuits 150 years before. Some construe the “Rules of Civility” as a guide to Washington’s future life, rather than as the penmanship exercise it appears to be. Over the next five decades, Washington never mentioned them, even when counseling his numerous younger relatives.
* * *
The Fairfax family played an outsized role in Washington’s formative years. Colonel Fairfax came to Virginia to manage the family lands on behalf of his cousin Thomas, the sixth Lord Fairfax, who owned most of the land between the Potomac and Rappahannock Rivers, Virginia’s Northern Neck. (Virginians called land between rivers a “neck.”) While Lord Fairfax was young, he had neglected his American empire, and that neglect had taken a toll. Colonial governors granted some Fairfax land to others. The previous Fairfax agent in Virginia purloined massive tracts for himself and his relatives. After that agent’s death, Lord Fairfax filled the position with his reliable cousin, who had held royal offices in Barbados, Bermuda, and Massachusetts.5
Colonel Fairfax built the brick mansion at Belvoir, occupying it in 1741 with his wife and seven children, also taking a seat in Virginia’s House of Burgesses. The Fairfaxes mixed easily with their neighbor, young Lawrence Washington, who had the polish and refinement of an elite English education. Lawrence often brought along his younger brother George, large for his age and already a skilled horseman.
The people of Mount Vernon and Belvoir socialized at dinners, dances, and fox hunts. The Fairfaxes ate off china, drank from crystal, and exuded the amiable condescension of gentlefolk who kept an eye on the main chance. Colonel Fairfax mixed with the highest colonial officials. He knew the political issues and maneuverings of the day. From the Fairfaxes and Lawrence, Washington could learn how a man of position carried himself, the correct mix of friendliness and reserve, how to put others at ease, when to be lighthearted, and when and how to discuss serious matters. Most intoxicating, these exemplars of gracious gentry life embraced the Washington brothers. Lawrence cemented the tie between the families with his marriage to fifteen-year-old Anne Fairfax in 1743.6
George fully understood the importance of the Fairfaxes to his future. He later advised younger brother Jack to cultivate them. “I should be glad to hear,” he wrote, “that you live in perfect harmony and good fellowship with the family at Belvoir, as it is in their power to be very serviceable.” Washington concluded with the obvious truth: “to that family I am under many obligations, particularly to the old gentleman [Colonel Fairfax].” George doubtless had received similar advice from Lawrence.7
Lawrence and the colonel arranged for George to enter the Royal Navy as a fourteen-year-old midshipman, despite mother Mary’s apparent opposition. To advance that project, Colonel Fairfax carried to Fredericksburg a letter for George and another for his mother. The colonel instructed the boy to deliver the letter to his mother when the time felt right. Colonel Fairfax also lobbied one of Mary Washington’s friends to recommend sending George to sea.8
Despite those efforts, Mary withheld her consent. Good reasons for her course came from her half-brother in England. The navy, he warned, will “cut [George] and staple him and use him like a Negro, or rather, like a dog.” He warned that a colonial lad could not advance in the navy. Too many well-born naval officers had powerful English sponsors, which George had not. Ultimately, the midshipman project dissolved, ending George Washington’s nascent career in the Royal Navy.9
The adults had wrangled over George’s future because he seemed so promising. Nearing his full height, he moved with a grace that cannot be taught. His build was slender but strong. Later in life, he would say he never met a man who could match the distance he could throw a stone. When he was forty, Washington came upon young men “pitching the bar,” a heavy iron rod. He asked what their longest throw had been. Noting the mark, wrote a contestant, Washington heaved the bar “far, very far beyond our utmost limits.” With a grin, Washington said, “When you beat my pitch, young gentlemen, I’ll try again.”10
Washington’s physical gifts influenced his personality. His height drew attention, while his athletic prowess bred confidence. Competition holds less anxiety for the physically talented. Success brings praise. The athletic boy can attempt bolder deeds than his fellows.
Though Mary prevailed in the contest over the midshipman position, Lawrence’s influence with George grew. Lawrence had inherited the best house and the most slaves. He had style and traveled in the great world. At Ferry Farm, George had to help his mother’s daily routines; at Mount Vernon, he could become a gentleman. Mount Vernon’s appeal increased in 1747 when Lord Fairfax arrived at Belvoir, the only titled Englishman to make his home in colonial America.
* * *
Lord Fairfax was not much to look at: short, plump, and careless about dress. His indifference to convention reflected wealth and entitlement. He was a baron who owned millions of acres. He had been a member of the king’s household, attended balls and rode in fox hunts with the empire’s most august figures, had frequented London coffeehouses with Addison, and supposedly penned contributions to the Spectator. For him, all Americans were hired hands.
The lord’s fat times had ended in 1730, with creditors baying at the gates of the family castle. Needing income, he thought of his neglected property in Virginia and began to exert closer control over it. Nearly two decades later, in his mid-fifties, the proprietor of the Northern Neck moved to Virginia with one overriding goal: to sell or lease his lands for profit.
Land was Virginia’s economic religion, and surveyors were essential to its rituals. The colony held 45,000 square miles that could not be sold until it was marked off in parcels. Twenty-five new counties sprang into existence between 1720 and 1754; new towns formed every year; all needed defined borders. To convert his land into the funds he craved, Lord Fairfax needed reliable surveys, and plenty of them. Young George Washington saw the opportunity. At fifteen, using his father’s hand-me-down equipment, he completed a survey of Lawrence’s turnip field. After that effort, Washington began to hire out as a surveyor. Lawrence supported the initiative. A surveyor in the family would be an advantage and knit another connection to the Fairfaxes.11
The work suited Washington. It required attention to detail, spatial sensibility, and drawing skill, all of which show in Washington’s copybooks. It also required a rugged constitution. The best times for surveying were late autumn and early spring, when leaves were down and visibility best. Washington thrived in rugged country, sleeping outside in freezing temperatures.12
When one was surveying empty lands, precision was elusive. The surveyor ordinarily ran a first line from a prominent tree to another tree or a rock outcropping or watercourse, drawing the next line the same way, and so on until he returned to the initial point, turning corners at right angles when possible. Such rough-and-ready methods created profit opportunities for surveyors with easy ethics, who might include “overplus” acreage of as much as 25 percent: happy news for their clients. False surveys were common.13
Washington’s first taste of frontier surveying came in a Fairfax expedition in March 1748, just after his sixteenth birthday. An experienced surveyor led the party, while Colonel Fairfax’s eldest son, George William, represented the proprietor.
Seven years older and schooled in England, George William warmed to Washington, whose size and demeanor led elders to accept him. A contemporary described the impression he made.
[He was] straight as an Indian, measuring six feet two inches in his stockings and weighing 175 pounds . . . His frame is padded with well-developed muscles, indicating great strength. His bones and joints are large, as are his hands and feet. He is wide shouldered but has not a deep or round chest; is neat waisted, but is broad across the hips and has rather long legs and arms. . . . A large and straight rather than a prominent nose; blue gray penetrating eyes which are widely separated and overhung by a heavy brow. . . . His movements and gestures are graceful, his walk majestic, and he is a splendid horseman.
Washington had imperfections. His skin burned in the sun. Because of bad teeth, a curse through life, he kept his mouth closed. His voice was soft, almost breathy, maybe due to an early respiratory illness. But his poise overcame defects: “In conversation he looks at you full in the face, is deliberate, deferential, and engaging. His demeanor is at all times composed and dignified.”14
That first wilderness journey was difficult. Washington learned to sleep in his clothes in the open air, avoiding frontier cabins that were infested with lice and fleas. Spring rains and melting snow swelled creeks and rivers, forcing the surveyors to swim their horses across strong currents. Rain and wind lashed their tents and campfires. Washington declared one trail “the worst road that ever was trod by man or beast.”15
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