Washington's Revolution: The Making of America's First Leader (51 page)

What he hoped for was a quiet life. But he must have known he would not find such a life—he was too well known, and bore the burdens of the unrestrained admiration of America and much of Europe. He also had plans to carry out and responsibilities that denied the tranquillity he craved. They were, of course, of a different order than he had grown accustomed to in the army, and included getting Mount Vernon, the house and plantation, and his holdings in the West in order. And there was also the matter of his place in the world—how he might help shore up the new republic. That the republic was weak and
part of a world made up largely of monarchies promised extraordinary problems.

Homecoming presented uncertainties in a variety of realms, but it also offered the affection of family and friends, all eager to see him and to express their love for him. Martha Washington, not surprisingly, was at the top of the list, a woman who had waited for him with patience and without complaints. She had seen something of him during the war, usually in uncomfortable circumstances featuring cramped houses and a spartan diet, and had endured the possibility of the loss of her husband to death in combat. Martha Washington bore it all well and free of self-pity. When Washington arrived home at Christmas, she was still in mourning for her son Jacky, who had died two years before. She never fully recovered from his death, but having her husband home transformed her moods. To those individuals she met at this time, she seemed happy or at least content, and to have kept to herself her deepest feelings about her family. Yet it was clear that she loved her husband, whose return had made her happy. It was a feeling he gave back in full measure.

Washington’s affection for his family seems to have grown during the war, a time when he could do little for his brothers and their children. He had looked after his mother when he could during the war, and in peace he continued to serve her whenever possible, though without enthusiasm. By contrast, his nephews—the sons of his brothers John Augustine Washington and Charles Washington—captured his attention without trying. The favorite nephews were George Augustine Washington (1763–93), son of Charles, and Bushrod Washington (1762–1829), son of John Augustine Washington, of whom George was especially fond.

The nephews had chosen different sorts of careers and do not seem to have come to Washington’s close attention until they were around twenty years old. George Augustine became a focus of attention early on—he served as an aide to Lafayette during several years of the Revolution, an association that inevitably quickened his uncle’s interest. But he suffered from tuberculosis and sought relief by taking passage to the West Indies, the same course of treatment Lawrence Washington had followed, accompanied by his brother George, more than thirty years earlier. Lawrence had died shortly after his attempt at a cure, but George Augustine lived ten years beyond his voyage. His uncle
clearly felt concern about him and paid for the West Indies experiment, commenting at the time that his nephew “looks very thin” and was “troubled with the pain in his Breast.” Martha Washington felt a similar concern, which she expressed to her nephew, who clearly was moved by it.
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Bushrod Washington, the oldest of three sons of John Augustine Washington, endured no severe physical problems, and probably came to his uncle’s attention because he was the firstborn of George Washington’s favorite brother. He had a quick mind and found a place with James Wilson, the distinguished Philadelphia attorney. Washington played a part in this arrangement by recommending Bushrod to Wilson. A recommendation of this kind from Washington was difficult to reject, but there is no reason to suspect that Wilson acted against his own wishes in taking Bushrod into his firm.
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Although Washington did not know John Augustine’s youngest son, Corbin (1765–1799), well, he recommended him to Tench Tilghman as being a young man capable of learning the mercantile business. John Augustine had asked his brother to do so and also urged him to request that Tilghman allow the boy to live with the Tilghman family rather than in a boardinghouse. Corbin was nineteen and, as far as Washington could tell, “had good natural abilities—an amiable disposition, & an uncommon share of prudence & circumspection.” When Washington received his brother’s letter asking him for help in prying open the doors of business for Corbin, his first step was to ask Robert Morris to accept the boy. Morris replied that he was leaving business, and recommended others to assume the task. Washington chose Tilghman, encouraged by John Augustine, who thought Tilghman was preferable to all others and reminded George that “Colonel Tilghmans regard and respect for you may induce him to take more pains in instructing my son than could other wise be reasonably expected.” Washington did not respond to this comment, but he did recommend Corbin, whatever he thought about his brother’s willingness to use his reputation.
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One nephew, Fielding Lewis Jr. (1751–1803), son of Washington’s sister Betty and Fielding Lewis, received little sympathy and no financial help, though he requested it while sitting in the Frederick County jail, imprisoned for not paying his debts. Young Lewis admitted that his plight had arisen from “youthful Folley” but avoided giving any additional explanation. This excuse met a cold response. His
own “circumstances,” Washington explained, left him in no condition to advance money. His estate made no money during his nine years’ absence, he reported; he brought no money home from the army, and his debtors “took advantage of the depreciation & paid me off with Six pence in the pound.” He himself owed money that, if his creditors demanded payment immediately, he would be able to pay off only by selling part of his estate.
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This explanation of his refusal to come to Fielding Jr.’s assistance made up the body of his letter. He followed it with a postscript in which he remarked on Fielding’s failure several years before to respond to his father’s request for a list of his debts. Fielding Sr. had written Washington in 1769 that his son seemed certain in a year or two to have spent every “shilling” of his young wife’s fortune, “as I cannot perceive the least amendment since his Marriage, nor has he the least regard to any advice I give him.” Young Fielding’s request to Washington came in midstream of an unhappy life, and (to give this account fullness), eight years after the appeal to his uncle, even his mother, Betty Washington Lewis, seemed prepared to give up on him, writing her brother George that “Fielding is so distrest that his Children would go naked if it was not for the assistance I give him.”
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The happiness Washington felt in his family outweighed the distress he received from the conduct of Fielding Lewis Jr. and the complaints from his mother. These matters did not enter his life of retirement every day, but came after his return and the deluge of praise, honors, and celebration. He had expected that approval of his performance in the Revolution would be sounded for a short time after he left the army, but what appeared was massive and continuous. Its most common expression came through the mail as strangers of every sort as well as old colleagues wrote him. He especially welcomed hearing from officers who had served under his command—and they did not hesitate to write.

Henry Knox, who had led the artillery division, was among the first. Knox had been an admirer of Washington during the war and did not now conceal his feelings, saying that “I should do violence to the dictates of my heart were I to suppress entirely its sensations of affection & gratitude to you for the innumerable instances of your kindness and attention to me, and although I can find no words equal to their
warmth I may venture to assure you that they will remain indelibly fixed.” Washington had more than thought well of Knox, and the year before his own retirement assigned him to the task of disbanding the army. Knox was still fulfilling that charge when he wrote Washington with this declaration of affection, but he also wanted something: a recommendation to Congress that Knox receive another command, preferably as secretary of war. Congress complied the next year.
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David Humphreys, an aide who had served with distinction, also wrote in January. Like Knox, he wanted an appointment in the government and suggested to Washington that he had the competence to carry out the duties of the secretary of foreign affairs, a regimental commander, or a secretary to one of the commissions Congress was sending abroad. Washington, ever loyal to his military family, recommended that Congress make Humphreys secretary of foreign affairs. Congress responded with an offer of appointment as secretary of the commission negotiating commercial treaties in France.
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Throughout 1784, many such letters passed between Washington and his former officers. All conveyed feelings of respect and admiration for him, and he in turn revealed his own high regard for these men, as well as his willingness—indeed, eagerness—to give them all aid possible. This flood of letters that began with his return did not lessen, and though he did not know many of those who wrote, he responded to virtually every one.

The variety of correspondents and the subjects they chose to air must have surprised him. He probably knew Walter Stewart, who had been a colonel in the 2nd Pennsylvania Regiment and inspector of the Northern Army and was a Philadelphia merchant when he wrote. Stewart wanted a letter of introduction to the governor of Cuba, an instrument, he said, that would help collect a debt owed his firm. Ever polite, Washington wrote the letter that did in fact enable Stewart to collect what was owed him, some twelve thousand dollars.
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Though many wanted something from him—money in the form of a gift or loan, help in getting a job, or recognition of some kind—many more wrote simply to convey their gratitude for his leadership in the Revolution. These writers lived all over Europe and the United States and included with their appreciation gifts of all sorts. Admiral d’Estaing, along with “all the French sailors,” sent a gold medal
studded with diamonds to convey to Washington their “most profound admiration and attachment which you inspire.” Over the next few months, John Jones, a former commissary to the old Virginia Regiment led by Washington in 1755, sent “a fine fat turtle” from Curaçao, and Reuben Harvey, an Irish merchant, sent “Cork Mess Beef” and “a firkin of Ox tongues with Roots.”
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Such gifts could have been smothered by the poems and addresses written in Washington’s honor, many published and all wrapped in praise, apparently in fear that simple statement was inadequate to the task. Had Washington attended all the dinners in his honor, drunk the toasts to his fame, and danced at all the balls that frequently accompanied such affairs, he would have either died from gluttony or collapsed from exhaustion. As it was, he answered the letters with humility and professed to find the poetry moving, and nowhere did he confess to fatigue at all the celebration.

There is much in the praise heaped on him that is revealing. Most of the writers of letters and organizers of public tributes had never written him before. He was unknown to them, and they to him. The achievement of the Revolution, the independence and liberty it brought to America, impressed these correspondents more than anything else. But they also wondered about its leader, George Washington, and concluded that the Revolution’s triumph was his. Besides the fact of his leadership of an army lacking in experience and just about everything else, he had, as an admirer put it, “in obedience to your Country’s call, [undertaken] the Arduous task, and nobly embarked in the sacred cause of Liberty, rejecting every emolument which you might in justice have claimed for such signal & important services.”
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Letters came from his old French colleagues. Admiral d’Estaing wrote, as did the Comte de Grasse, Rochambeau, and of course Chastellux and Lafayette. Congratulations on his success in the war and his act disavowing any claim to power in the young republic constituted more than routine recognition. The writers of these letters liked him, and said so. In fact, the standing Washington assumed in popular appreciations often revealed an almost mystical attitude. He remained for them a creature apart, a man set above all others, a unique being—not a god, but at the least a chosen instrument of Providence.

Washington did not seek such a status and bore, without complaint, the celebration of his honor and his virtue. All he wanted, he said
as he left the army, was a quiet life. But as he must have realized in 1784, quiet was not to be his. As great as the Revolution was, there was more to be done if the United States was to survive. A part of the task, he knew, would fall to him. But for the moment, he would dream under his own vine and fig tree.

Acknowledgments

Much of my research for this book was done in the rooms of the Mark Twain Project, in the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley. It should not be assumed that I confused George Washington with Mark Twain, or that I did not know where I was when working on this book. It is true that Peter Hanff, deputy director of the Bancroft, and Robert Hirst, editor of the Mark Twain Project, made the arrangements for my work, including extracting volumes of Washington papers from storage elsewhere for my use. I am deeply in their debt, and in Neda Salem’s for her help in the Bancroft. Andrew Miller, my editor at Knopf, has been a perceptive and thoughtful commentator with high standards. He does his work with great skill and intelligence, and I wish to thank him. I wish also to thank his colleague, Will Heyward, for much help in a variety of ways, and for giving it so thoughtfully and tactfully

My debt to Edmund S. Morgan is enormous. He talked with me frequently over the years about my work on Washington, encouraged me to persist in it, and was in all ways a source of insight and inspiration right up to his death. Others who read what I wrote, gave insightful criticism, or provided valuable encouragement include Irv Scheiner, Bill Youngs, Amy Greenberg, Terry Carroll, and Ruma Chopra. I’m especially indebted to Caroline Cox, a superb scholar, who, before her death, put her own work aside to give mine an especially searching reading.