Martha Washington (36 page)

What did he feel for her? As nineteenth-century writers rein-vented Washington to suit their own ideas, they seized on Washington Custis's description of a chance meeting at a neighbor's house. According to Custis, Washington immediately fell in love with the charming widow and pursued her wholeheartedly. The discovery of two letters that Washington wrote to Sally Cary Fairfax during his engagement to Martha Custis knocked out the story of love at first sight. There's no credible way to read the letters he wrote in the fall of 1758 other than as those of a young man suffering from a forbidden love; they're practically incoherent, the outpouring of a sorely troubled heart. He was infatuated with Sally and distraught at her criticism of his coming marriage to Martha Custis.

Does that mean he married Martha
only
for her money? Just as false as Custis's accidental love tale is the idea that the Washingtons' marriage was affectionate but cool and that George pined for Sally Fairfax until he died. Sally was unattainable by the mores of his class and time—neither of them wanted to run off and live outside society's reach somewhere on the frontier. If Martha, despite her wealth, hadn't been lovely and appealing, George had plenty of time to look around. There were always attractive young ladies with respectable dowries and wealthy widows. Neither George nor Martha had to marry just at this time.

George was given to musing on love and marriage in later life, criticizing coquettes who toyed with men's affections (Sally?) while waxing lyrical about the pleasures of marriage with the right partner. He warned Martha's young granddaughters not to “look for perfect felicity before you consent to wed.” He asserted that “more permanent & genuine happiness is to be found in the sequestered walks of connubial life, than in the giddy rounds of promiscuous pleasure.”

Martha Dandridge Custis was a lovely and sexually attractive woman. Her first husband defied his terrifying father—something he had never dared to do previously—to marry her. George Washington's rival during their courtship confided to his brother about the happiness he expected to find in her arms. She was a woman confident of her own appeal. Whatever she may have guessed about Sally Fairfax (probably quite a lot), she doesn't seem to have doubted her ability to secure her husband's love.

And she was certainly right. After they married, there is not a sign that George was a bored or unhappy husband. They shared a bed throughout their marriage (no separate bedrooms here), and he desired her companionship as often as possible when he was away from home during the war and the presidency. Washington was concerned, almost obsessed, with his wife's comfort and safety. If money had been the
only
motive for their marriage, he needn't have bothered. Once they were married, he controlled the money, and only their mutual love explains his care for her. All three of his extant letters to Martha begin “My dearest,” and there is no reason to doubt that she was indeed his dearest love.

George admired his wife for many reasons besides her looks and sex appeal. Conversation was one of the prized social graces of the eighteenth century, and Martha could talk to anyone about anything, far outstripping her husband's more serious approach. After a conversation with her, guests went away with the pleasant sense of being appreciated and admired. She was all motion, sparkle, and delight, never haughty, greeting visitors with her beautiful smile, radiating warmth and welcome. She was kind, concerned for the feelings of others, and charitable to an extreme.

During George Washington's public years, she screened callers for him and joined in their conversations. Martha Washington was her husband's closest confidante, the person he could always trust to consider knotty problems, according to their family, aides, and secretaries. Trust Thomas Jefferson to get their relationship completely wrong. At a dinner at Monticello, he expounded on George Washington's hardness in both public and private life, declaring the most uxorious of men “a hard husband.”

No one could argue that Martha had a theoretical bent of mind or that she took the lead in her husband's evolving political views. But she was an intelligent and concerned participant who moved along the path toward revolution and nationhood with him. She read newspapers, magazines, and pamphlets, discussing all the news of the day at dinner and in their evenings together.

Very few of his southern contemporaries followed George Washington in his growing determination to free his slaves. Martha never reached his certainty that slavery was wrong, but she was no more likely to argue with him over the disposition of his human property than she was over his decision to leave Mount Vernon to a Washington. She recognized his property as his own to do with as he wished.

Nor would he have tried to convince her to free the other slaves who labored at Mount Vernon, since she had no legal power to do so. They were part of her dower right to Daniel Custis's estate—the widow's third that she controlled throughout her lifetime. She could not sell, give away, or free the Custis slaves without accounting to the estate. At her death, they automatically became the property of the Custis heirs.

Martha Washington was a brave woman, not the timid creature posited by many of her husband's biographers. She wasn't fearless, but she was brave enough to do things anyway. Boats made her nervous, but she made several hundred ferry crossings in her comings and goings. Smallpox inoculation frightened her. A gob of pus from a smallpox victim was inserted into a cut on her arm; all might be well, or her body might break out in a mass of pustules, leaving her scarred for life. To be with her husband, she didn't hesitate for a moment to have the procedure. Despite the very real dangers of capture by the British during the Revolution, she stayed at Mount Vernon or joined her husband—no hiding in safety for her. Her strongest fears were for others—her husband and children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

It's almost impossible to write the biography of a woman before the twentieth century without writing a lot about daily life, especially for a woman as happily domestic as Martha Washington. To write only of high points and great deeds is to ignore most of human life and the things that give the greatest joy—whether riding around the fields to check on the progress of a new strain of barley for George or Martha's knitting stockings and hemming hankies for her grandchildren.

As L. P. Hartley wrote, “The past is another country. They do things differently there.” We stand at Mount Vernon and imagine that we are experiencing part of Martha Washington's life. But her world didn't sound the same, smell the same, or look the same. She didn't move in a vacuum, nor did her husband. To understand her, we have to understand the customs of her country—eighteenth-century Virginia.

George Washington was a very great man, essential to the formation of the American nation. But he was not the perfect man of marble, faultless, all wise, and self-controlled. Like everyone, he was a churning mass of contradictions. At times, he could be violently angry, nagging, censorious, insecure, indecisive, depressed, or obsessed with ill health. To ignore Martha's role in the great man's life is to ignore the emotional components of his character. She was essential to his sense of well-being, the one person with whom he could let down his guard and be himself. Both Abigail Adams and Dolley Madison are seen as essential to their husbands' lives and careers because their letters were saved. Martha and George Washington spent as little time apart as possible, but when they were parted, they wrote weekly. By destroying those masses of letters, Martha maintained their privacy but completely obscured her own role in her husband's life.

Once Martha and George Washington married and he became famous, it is difficult to see her clearly. She was completely bound up in his life, and her contributions to American history were made in support of his career. Her constant presence at winter camps allowed him to stay in the field throughout the American Revolution. As the nation's hostess, she resisted all attempts to make her into a queen, as he had refused to become a king. Pulled far from her natural orbit, Martha Washington brought unself-conscious dignity and charm to the new role of First Lady of a new nation.

Not elected and free of official oversight, presidents' wives wield tremendous political and social influence. With their unique access to the nation's leader, they are subject to constant scrutiny by allies and enemies, the press, and the general public. These women are expected to assume national responsibilities, willing or not, and their private lives are routinely examined, discussed, and criticized. There is no guidebook to help a new First Lady; she must look back at her predecessors to decide how to shape her role and to survive in the limelight. Martha Washington's imprint on the position has been decisive. As the first in a long line, she invented the role while confronting with grace its inevitable quandaries, successes, and heart-aches. Admired and respected in her lifetime, Martha Washington set the standard for all First Ladies.

For anyone interested in Martha Washington, Mount Vernon is the starting point. Preserved by the Mount Vernon Ladies Association for a century and a half, it is both a patriotic shrine and a pathway for understanding the nation's past. Whether touring the mansion, outbuildings, gardens, and exhibition areas, attending a symposium, or doing research in the library and curatorial collections, the Mount Vernon experience is remarkable. I owe heartfelt thanks to James C. Rees, executive director; Linda Ayres, associate director for collections; and Ann Phillips Bay, associate director for education, for ongoing help throughout the years. Barbara McMillan, librarian, and Carol Borchert Cadou, curator, exemplify research assistance at its best. They have helped me unstintingly in ways too numerous to spell out. Other staff members who were very helpful are Dawn Bonner, administrative assistant; John Payne, museum technician; and Melissa Naulin, former assistant curator.

Mary V. Thompson, research specialist, is in a class by herself. She shares her valuable research reports and insights about the Washingtons and their lives at Mount Vernon with great generosity and never hesitates to look in new directions. All her admirers look forward to seeing more of her work in print. Both she and Carol Cadou read and commented on portions of the manuscript.

The research for this book was assisted materially by a Frances Lewis fellowship in women's studies from the Virginia Historical Society. Members of the fine staff were uniformly supportive, and I wish to thank Charles F. Bryan Jr., president and CEO; E. Lee Shepard, director of manuscripts and archives; William M. S. Rasmussen, Lora M. Robins Curator of Art; Nelson D. Lankford, director of publications and scholarship, who first encouraged me to apply for a fellowship; Frances Pollard, director of library services, who always steered me right in working with the collections; and Gregory Stoner, library assistant.

At Colonial Williamsburg, Linda H. Rowe, historian, guided me through early Williamsburg records and offered excellent suggestions on the finished manuscript. Thanks also to Cathleene B. Hellier and Patricia A. Gibbs, historians, and Louise Wrike, secretary, Department of Historical Research. During a Williamsburg symposium, my friend Nancy Carter Crump provided essential information on domestic life. Thanks also to Betty Leviner and Mary Wiseman.

Despite their backbreaking schedule of publication, the staff of the George Washington Papers at the University of Virginia are always willing to help researchers. Thanks to Philander D. Chase, Frank E. Grizzard Jr., Edward G. Lengel, and Beverly H. Runge for making material available and checking unpublished material for me. Both Frank and Ed read portions of the manuscript and made valuable suggestions.

I appreciate the support of Leslie L. Buhler, executive director; Melinda L. Huff, curator of collections; and Jill Sanderson, director of education, at Tudor Place in Georgetown, the home of Martha Custis Peter. Wendy Kail, archivist, was a delight to work with. My interest in the Custis family began with Wood-lawn, the home of Nelly Custis Lewis. Once again, thanks to my friends Ross G. Randall, director; Craig S. Tuminaro, former associate director for preservation programs; and former curator Margaret Davis and her husband, Max.

Warren M. Billings gave me a crash course in early Virginia history, life, and legal matters and was an always available resource. Several distinguished Virginia historians read part or all of the manuscript. Many, many thanks to Thad W. Tate; Emory W. Evans; Mark F. Fernandez; Sandra Gioia Treadway, who also delved for information at the Library of Virginia; and Jon Kukla. Several nonhistorian friends read portions of the work to be sure that it would be clear to the general reader: Chris Alderman, Jane Brady, Louise Hoffman, Lynn Adams, Colin Schmit, and Harold Alderman. Of course, all remaining errors and ambiguities are my own.