The Intimate Lives of the Founding Fathers (4 page)

George was more than pleased with Martha’s warm, affable manner and was even more charmed when she invited him to stay overnight. He
played cheerfully with her two children, John, four, and Patsy, two. As he departed, he tipped her servants extravagantly, a sure sign that he wanted their comments about him to be favorable.
²⁴

A week later, he returned for another visit and something seems to have been arranged. On May 4, the colonel ordered a ring from Philadelphia and a suit of “superfine” broadcloth from London to fit a “tall man.” By this time he was back on the frontier, once more in command of his regiment. They were soon part of another British army committed to ousting the French from Fort Duquesne.
²⁵

X

Here the aftershock of the turmoil stirred by the
New York Herald
’s publication of the letter to Sally Fairfax intrudes on our story. On July 20, 1758, George Washington supposedly wrote in a letter to Martha Custis:

A number of reputable historians have concluded this letter is a forgery. It was included in the first two editions of Washington’s papers, but John C. Fitzpatrick noted tersely, “The location of the original is not known.” Perhaps most important, the statement about beginning a march to the Ohio is wrong. On July 20, much to Washington’s exasperation, the British army was still sitting on the edge of the wilderness, debating which route to take. He was not even sure he and his troops would be included in the expedition. Furthermore, the word “courier” was never used by Washington during these years; he preferred “express.” Other words in the letter strike similar false notes. Perhaps most convincing, the style is extravagantly emotional from a man who has spent comparatively little time with Mrs. Custis.

Where did the letter come from? Was it concocted in an attempt to counter the 1877 revelation of the letter to Sally Fairfax? We know this much:
it first appeared in 1886 in a sentimental biography of Martha Washington titled
Mary and Martha, Mother and Wife of George Washington
. The author, Benjamin Lossing, claimed he had seen the original, but it was never found by anyone else. It seems likely that the letter was forged by someone who was trying to make the letter to Sally seem like a fake. It might have been written by a Washington family descendant, who imposed it on Lossing, or by someone else with patriotic motives such as the mystery purchaser of the letter to Sally Fairfax in 1877.
²⁷

XI

These explanations enable us to see Colonel Washington grumbling and cursing in Fort Cumberland, Maryland, while the British ignored his advice on the best way to march on Fort Duquesne. Meanwhile, the evidence of George’s plans for the future were unfolding at Mount Vernon, which Washington had decided to expand and rebuild with all possible speed. George William Fairfax, back from Europe, was asked to help with advice and supervision. This inevitably led to Washington telling him about his engagement to Martha Custis. Fairfax naturally told his wife about this interesting change in the fortunes of their mutual friend. Into an envelope with a letter from George William about the Mount Vernon renovation, Sally slipped a letter of her own.

With that mocking style she preferred, Sally apparently teased Washington about his complaints that the campaign was moving too slowly. Was he impatient because he had become a “votary of love”? She was of course referring to his engagement to Martha Custis. But the lonely warrior, facing an Indian-rife wilderness in which there was a strong possibility of a bullet with his name on it, read a very different meaning into the inquiry. What came back to Sally was nothing less than an explosion—a jumbled cry of anguish from a man who could bury his feelings no longer. As usual, Sally was discreet. Her answer was apparently indirect; some historians think she pretended Washington was joking. The letter is lost. We have only Washington’s answer:

He gloomily added that he was almost certain the expedition to the Ohio would end in disaster. Then he added words that had deep meaning for both of them: “I should think my time more agreeable [
sic
] spent, believe me, in playing a part in Cato with the company you mention and myself doubly happy in being the Juba to such a Marcia as you must make.”

He closed with some offhand speculation on the marital plans of several friends but made no mention of his own. Then came a last burst of emotion:

In his surviving letters to Sally, Washington never before wrote “most unalterably.” Once more he was telling her the secret that they would share for the rest of their lives. They were lovers that destiny had tragically separated, as history had forever parted Marcia and Juba.
²⁹

XII

Four months after he revealed this passionate longing, George Washington married Martha Custis. If romance was not uppermost in his mind, there is evidence that Martha felt a few tremors. Her first husband, Daniel Parke Custis, had been fifteen years older than she—and he was by most accounts a rather pathetic (though extremely handsome) man, browbeaten all his life by a miserly father. Towering Colonel Washington was not only Virginia’s foremost soldier, but he must have been a breathtaking sight in the suit of superfine blue cotton broadcloth that he had ordered from England for his wedding. To the end of her life, Martha saved a piece of her wedding dress—deep yellow brocaded satin threaded with silver—and the white gloves her new husband had worn to the ceremony.
³⁰

W
e know—or at least suspect—that Martha Dandridge Custis was more than a little pleased by George Washington’s proposal. But this does not tell us much about her. There were undoubtedly a great many women in Virginia who would have felt a few shivers at the thought of being embraced by the famous Colonel Washington. For some people, Martha’s wealth has complicated and even distorted her and the marriage. Even when Washington was in his second term as president, a man inflamed by the politics of the day shouted at him, “What would you have been if you had not married the widow Custis?”

This crass view of the match as a marriage of ultimate convenience has led others to annotate with various degrees of wryness what Washington obtained when he said “I do.” Daniel Parke Custis had died without a will, which left Martha in charge of his 17,438-acre estate, all prime land within a forty-mile radius of Williamsburg. An early estimate of its value was 23,622 pounds—well over three million dollars in today’s money. A third of that sum was Martha’s and the rest would go to her two children, so the entire enterprise was her responsibility for decades to come. The moment George became her husband, Martha’s one-third was his property and he became the administrator of the children’s portions. From a cash-short landowner with a few thousand acres, Washington, like his brother Lawrence before him, ascended into Virginia’s upper class.

The cynics who note this miraculous transformation often forget that it
was a marriage of convenience for Martha, too. She knew little or nothing about managing a huge estate. It involved dealing with overseers, worries over runaway or recalcitrant slaves, and problems with livestock and tenant farmers and with shipping tobacco to London when insurance rates were skyrocketing because of the ongoing war with France. Moreover, the Custis estate had a worrisome lawsuit looming on the legal horizon, stemming from the will of Daniel Parke Custis’s rakehell grandfather. He had named as one of his heirs an illegitimate daughter he had fathered in Antigua, and her descendants were threatening to sue in Virginia for a share of his estate in that colony. If the final verdict went the wrong way, Martha could lose almost all the property she had inherited.

This was another reason why she wanted and needed a man of cool judgment in her life. Her choice of Colonel Washington, who had managed large affairs during the war and was intimate with the ruling politicians of Virginia, indicated that she had not a little common sense in her makeup, which the tremors of possible romance did not by any means obscure.
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II

Historians and historical novelists have long disagreed about Martha’s looks. Some report her as ugly, or at best plain. One 1784 visitor to Mount Vernon even found fault with her “squeaky” voice. Unfortunately for Martha, she did not become a subject for first-rate portrait painters—or a personage to be studied by random visitors—until she was long past her youth. Most of her likenesses were painted when she was in her sixties and the wife of the first president. One writer sourly wondered why she persisted in wearing those silly mobcaps that made her look so old. Martha was, of course, merely dressing her age.
²

Luckily, a traveling painter named John Wollaston has left us a portrait of Martha in 1757, when she was still Mrs. Custis. She was unquestionably an attractive young woman, with large hazel eyes and curly brown hair. Her forehead was wide and fine; her strong nose and firmly rounded chin added an air of self-confidence, which was equally visible in her small, firm mouth. She was barely five feet tall, but her figure was full and even eye-catching. One recent biographer called her “a pocket Venus, a petite cuddlesome armful.” By the time she married Washington, Martha had
gained enough weight to be considered plump by some people. But the added pounds did not diminish her physical charm.

III

Even more important in appreciating Martha Dandridge Custis’s appeal to her husband is her personality. Almost everyone who met her was pleased by her warm, relaxed manner. Very early in life, she revealed a startling capacity to charm the male sex. The Dandridges were middling gentry, like the Washingtons. Everyone was agog when Daniel Parke Custis, one of the richest men in the colony, fell in love with Martha. The Dandridges had very little cash to spare for a dowry.

Daniel’s father, Colonel John Custis, already famous for his foul temper, vowed to disinherit his son if he married a penniless Dandridge. For several months, this edict stalemated matters. Daniel had no appetite for arguing with his headstrong parent. John Custis worsened matters by threatening to leave his entire estate to Jack, a mulatto boy he had fathered with Alice, one of his slaves. Daniel—and everyone else—knew he was more than capable of such a bizarre gesture. Soon the imbroglio was the talk of Virginia, with gossips gleefully reporting John Custis’s latest outrageous remark. At one point he gave silver engraved with the Custis coat of arms to an innkeeper’s wife to make sure it would never be owned by “any Dandridge’s daughter.” The woman displayed the gift in her Williamsburg tavern.
³

Who could possibly resolve such an ugly contretemps? Martha Dandridge decided to try. She rode to Williamsburg and confronted the old tyrant in his house on Francis Street. Face to face, the colonel turned into a paper tiger, and then into a pussycat. He was impressed by Martha’s courage—and pleased by her calm, even temper and the direct, sensible way she talked to him about herself and his son. Daniel sent one of his friends, a lawyer named Power, to see his father. He discovered that Colonel Custis had changed his mind about the marriage. The Custises were so rich, his son did not need a dowry to marry Martha Dandridge.
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The lawyer rushed Daniel the astounding news: “I am empowered by your father to let you know he heartily and willingly consents to your marriage with Miss Dandridge.” Power attributed this miraculous transformation to “a prudent speech” that Martha had made to the colonel. “He is
[now] as much enamored with her character as you are with her person,” Power continued. “Hurry down [here] immediately for fear he should change the strong inclination he has to your marrying directly.”
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IV

This episode tells us a lot about Martha Dandridge Custis Washington. She may have lacked Sally Fairfax’s education and interest in art and literature, but she was no plain Jane who was happy to be a humble echo of her outsized second husband. George had not been the only candidate for Mrs. Custis’s affections. Before Colonel Washington made his first visit, Martha had been pursued by one of the richest men in Virginia, Charles Carter, son of fabulously wealthy Robert “King” Carter. Charles’s wife had died about six months before Daniel Custis, and he frankly confessed that a widower’s life made him miserable.

“Mrs. C___s is now the object of my wish,” Charles Carter told his brother. He praised Martha’s beauty and—especially significant—her “uncommon sweetness of temper.” Although he was twenty-three years older than Martha, Carter hoped “to raise a flame in her breast.” He was still a vigorous man who dressed well and was the ultimate social insider. But Carter had fathered no less than a dozen children, and ten of them were still living at home. Martha, again exercising her gifts of common sense as well as frankness, told him she hoped to have more children. She wondered whether she—or any other woman—was capable of managing such a huge family, with its inevitable jealousies between half brothers and /or sisters. It is not hard to see how Colonel George Washington, single, childless, and almost exactly her own age, had a far greater appeal to this practical young woman.
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V

The newlyweds spent the first few months of their married life at Martha’s White House plantation and the Custis house in Williamsburg while George attended the House of Burgesses. Martha undoubtedly glowed with pride when he received the unanimous thanks of the legislature for his five years of service on the frontier. They joined in the parties and balls that enlivened the little colonial capital. Both loved to dance and
performed all the popular steps of the day, from stately minuets to more intimate allemandes to energetic American jigs and reels that often sent European visitors fleeing to the sidelines, claiming that the “irregular and fantastical” style threatened their “sinews.” The Washingtons were young, rich, and with every reason in the world to enjoy themselves.

Not until April 2, 1759, did they take the road to Mount Vernon. Martha and the children traveled in the Custis family coach; Washington rode his horse beside them. Behind them came wagons that carried twelve slave servants from the White House, including a cook, a waiter, a seamstress, and a laundress. In other wagons were no fewer than six beds, several chests of drawers, linens, silverware, two sets of china, and dozens of pieces of kitchenware. In still more wagons rattled 120 bottles of wine, casks of rum and brandy, and numerous hams, plus a large supply of cheeses and sugar. Martha was obviously operating on the assumption that setting up a household in a bachelor establishment such as Mount Vernon was equivalent to a venture into the wilderness. Colonel Washington may have added to this impression with an anxious letter he rushed ahead to his overseer, urging him to “get out the chairs and tables,” clean the rooms, start fires in the fireplaces, and make a point of polishing the stairs “to make it look well.”
⁷

At Mount Vernon, Martha soon began making lists of furniture and other expensive items for Robert Cary, the London merchant who handled such purchases for the Custises and many other wealthy Virginians. One of her most interesting orders was a bedroom set featuring a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall canopied bed with blue (Martha’s favorite color) curtains and matching coverlet, wallpaper and window curtains, plus four chair bottoms of the same color “to make the whole furniture of this room uniformly handsome and genteel.” Mr. Cary was soon being inundated with similar orders to convert the rest of Mount Vernon from its bachelor bareness to a comfortable, attractive home. Also on the purchase list were amenities such as “a pipe of the best old wine from the best house in Madeira.” A pipe, if it survived the high seas without being tapped by thirsty sailors, would deliver 126 gallons of Colonel Washington’s favorite wine.
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The colonel wrote these orders in his firm, legible hand. He also showed no hesitation in buying Martha virtually unlimited quantities of the best and finest lace, wool, and satin to be made into attractive dresses, riding suits, and cloaks. Satin slippers, black gloves for the winter, and white
gloves for the summer arrived in multiple numbers. Although Washington could not carry a tune, he loved to hear Martha and others sing. Not long after their arrival at Mount Vernon, he inscribed
Martha Washington, 1759
in a songbook—perhaps the first time he wrote her married name. Was he thinking with considerable satisfaction that she was no longer Martha Dandridge or Martha Custis?

Toward the end of their yearlong buying spree, Washington wrote a letter to Richard Washington, the English merchant with whom he had previously done business. His conscience was a bit troubled by the way he had deserted him for Mr. Cary, and he included a modest number of purchases to reassure him that he had not been forgotten. “I am now I believe fix’d at this seat [Mount Vernon] with an agreeable consort for life,” he wrote, “and hope to find more happiness in retirement than I ever experienced in a wide and bustling world.” These are the words of a contented man. To Washington, who had grown up in a household where Mary Ball Washington specialized in being disagreeable, Martha’s sunny disposition was something to treasure. He began to realize that marrying her was one of the best decisions of his life. Soon in private conversation he was calling her “Patsy”—the intimate nickname of her girlhood.
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VI

It did not take Washington long to see that four-year-old Jack and two-year-old Patsy were central to Martha’s happiness, and he did everything in his power to show her that he cared for them. Expensive clothes for the two children, as well as numerous toys, flowed off the ships that docked in nearby Alexandria and were trundled up the road to Mount Vernon. Later he bought one of the finest spinets made in England for Patsy and a good violin for Jack. Fashion dolls dressed in the latest mode also arrived regularly for Patsy as she matured into a pretty brunette. George was pleased when Martha began calling him “Poppa” and encouraged the children to do likewise.

Only one of Martha’s letters to George has survived. Fortunately, it tells us a good deal about the progress of their marriage from convenience to deepening love. She wrote it in 1767, while George was in Williamsburg attending a session of the House of Burgesses.

March 30, 1767

The only shadow on their happiness was Martha’s anxiety about Jack and Patsy. She had lost two children to early deaths, and the thought of losing either of them terrified her. As she slowly realized that she and George were unlikely to have any children, Martha’s anxiety intensified. They had expected to have a brood. No one knows why they remained childless, but reasonable speculation suggests two possibilities. Martha may have had difficult deliveries with one or more of her four children that left her unable to conceive again, or Washington’s bout with smallpox in the West Indies may have left him sterile.

Gently, with great forbearance and understanding, Washington tried to help Martha deal with her almost uncontrollable maternal anxiety. He wanted her to accompany him to Williamsburg and to visit other planters in Virginia and Maryland who were anxious to entertain the famous colonel and his wife. At one point he suggested they leave Jack home and take Patsy with them on a two-week visit to his brother Jack Washington and his wife. Martha told her sister it was “a trial to see how well I could stay without him.”