You Never Forget Your First
Page 18
Just as Paine’s Common Sense had won over the masses during the Revolution, his caustic letter was equally galvanizing—but not in the way he intended. Americans saw it as an attack on their living legend, and bristled at the disrespect. Federalists said it was proof that the French were trying to undermine the American government, a claim bolstered by additional evidence: Paine had written it at Monroe’s residence in Paris before the pro-French minister was recalled. (No matter that Monroe had actually tried to talk Paine out of sending the letter on Washington’s birthday.)
To Washington, though, the damage was already done. At sixty-four, he wanted to retire, and this time, no one talked him out of it. The Constitution prescribed term limits of four years, but it did not restrict how many terms could be served; in choosing to stop at two, Washington set a precedent that would endure into the twentieth century, when Franklin Delano Roosevelt went for a third. Once again, he would shock the world by giving up power, overseeing a peaceful transfer from one systematically elected official to another.
A few months before Washington publicly announced his decision, he sent Hamilton a copy of a valedictory address that Madison had written for him in 1792—the first time he had tried to retire from the presidency. It included his own edits and additions—many of which Hamilton, of all people, cut for sounding too bitter. But the drafts remain.
As this Address, Fellow citizens, will be the last I shall ever make you, and as some of the Gazettes of the United States have teamed with all the Invective that disappointment, ignorance of facts, and malicious falsehoods could invent, to misrepresent my politics and affections; to wound my reputation and feelings; and to weaken, if not entirely destroy the confidence you had been pleased to repose in me; it might be expected at the parting scene of my public life that I should take some notice of such virulent abuse.8
Hamilton’s version, which included only “reflections and sentiments as will wear well,” was published in newspapers and distributed in pamphlet form in September 1796.9
It contained no surprises. Washington praised the infant country’s rapid progress, which would continue if it focused on ambitions, not alliances; “the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.” Foreign influence was the enemy of American unity and prosperity, he wrote, because it whipped up “jealousy, ill-will, and a disposition to retaliate.” He worried that “cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people, and to usurp for themselves the reins of Government.”10 Political partisanship, Washington predicted, would reduce the government to a crowd of bickering representatives who were very good at thwarting each other but got very little accomplished for their constituents. And for all his talk of unity, he had come to see people as for or against his administration and had little patience for criticism. Unbridled partisanship was his greatest fear, and his greatest failure was that he became increasingly partisan.
* * *
Washington had two more seasons to go. In late fall, he observed the first contested, partisan election in silence. John Adams and Thomas Jefferson did not outwardly campaign for the presidency, but their respective corners did, with Washington’s policies fueling the debate.
Federalists accused Democratic-Republicans of supporting the bloody French Revolution (the French ambassador’s open support did not help matters) and Democratic-Republicans were just as quick to remind voters of the Jay Treaty, born from a monarchy-loving administration. Adams squeaked by with seventy-one electoral votes, mostly from the north, to Jefferson’s sixty-eight; it would be the first and last time in which a president and vice president were elected from different parties.
The election did nothing to bridge the partisan divide during Washington’s final winter in Philadelphia. After an innocuous final address to Congress on an icy day in December, a young Andrew Jackson, serving his first term in the House of Representatives from the newly inducted state of Tennessee, refused to salute or applaud Washington. Nothing was off base for the Aurora—they attacked his early career, reminding readers of de Jumonville’s assassination back in the French and Indian War; his two terms in office; and the predicted aftermath of his policies. “The President is fortunate to get off just as the bubble is bursting, leaving others to hold the bag,” a resentful Jefferson complained to Madison. “He will have his usual good fortune of reaping credit from the good arts of others, and leaving to them that of his errors.”11
His supporters remained loyal, and with the end of his presidency in sight, the Washingtons indulged them. They spent most of the winter going to social events thrown in his honor. Twelve hundred guests—including Elizabeth Powel, in black mourning dress for her husband—celebrated his sixty-fifth birthday in Philadelphia at Ricketts’ Circus.
That same day, February 22, 1797, Hercules, originally considered the greatest flight risk among the president’s slaves, ran away—but not from Philadelphia. He had been sent back to Mount Vernon after his son, Richmond (whom Washington begrudgingly brought to the city to make Hercules happy), had been accused of stealing from a guest the previous year.12 Washington assumed the alleged robbery was a part of a plan to escape, and sent Hercules back to Mount Vernon—but not to the kitchen. Hercules spent the rest of 1796 and early 1797 crushing gravel, digging ditches, and doing whatever backbreaking work was assigned to him, under an overseer’s watchful eye, and whip. This suggests he was telling the truth when he pledged fidelity to Lear six years earlier, and it was the punishment he received that prompted him to flee, leaving behind his three children.
It’s unlikely Washington realized that; he only saw confirmation of his original suspicions. And when it came to Ona Judge, he was in complete denial. “[T]here is no doubt in this family,” Washington wrote to Joseph Whipple, a customs collector in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, “of her having been seduced and enticed off by a Frenchman.” He never considered that Judge was upset enough at her casual gifting to flee. (In her absence, her younger sister, Delphy, was given to Betsy.) “[T]he ingratitude of the girl, who was brought up & treated more like a child than a servant,” complained Washington to Oliver Wolcott, Jr., his secretary of the treasury.13
Washington pursued both of his runaway slaves. “Continue your enquiries, I pray you, after Herculas,” Washington wrote to Kitt, his household steward, “and if you should find it necessary, hire some one who is most likely to be acquainted with his haunts, to trace them out.” He never got close to finding Hercules, but shortly after Adams was elected in November, Judge was spotted in New Hampshire, where slavery was abolished in 1783. Washington sent Whipple to compel her to return to Virginia.14
Judge actually agreed, but not without terms: She would remain with the Washingtons until they died; the end of their life would signal an end to her bondage. And she would not be gifted or sold to anyone. When Whipple wrote as much, Washington went apoplectic.
To enter into such a compromise, as she has suggested to you, is totally inadmissible, for reasons that must strike at first view: for however well disposed I might be to a gradual abolition, or even to an entire emancipation of that description of People (if the latter was in itself practicable at this Moment) it would neither be politic or just, to reward unfaithfulness with a premature preference; and thereby discontent, beforehand, the minds of all her fellow Servants; who by their steady adherence, are far more deserving than herself, of favor. . . . If she will return to her former Service, without obliging me to resort to compulsory means to effect it, her late conduct will be forgiven by her Mistress; and she will meet with the same treatment from me, that all the rest of her family (which is a very numerous one) shall receive.15
“KEEP HIM HANDCUFFD”
Washington is often quoted as saying “I am principled [against] selling negros, as you would do cattle in the market,” and that if he could find another way to part with them, he “would not, in twelve months from this date, be p
ossessed of one, as a slave.”17 But he had sold his slaves on at least three occasions, and he did so knowing that the place he was sending them, the West Indies, would bring about a brutal change in their lives. They would likely work on sugar plantations under overseers who were quick to use their whips; their diets would be poor, their medical care worse. They were virtually guaranteed a premature death.
In 1766, Washington entrusted Joseph Thompson, captain of the Swift, with selling an enslaved man named Tom the Caribbean. Tom, it seems, was one of nearly fifty slaves who attempted to flee Washington during his lifetime as a slave owner.
Sir,
With this Letter comes a Negro (Tom) which I beg the favour of you to sell, in any of the Islands you may go to, for whatever he will fetch, & bring me in return for him
One Hhd of best Molasses
One Ditto of best Rum
One Barrl of Lymes—if good & Cheap
One Pot of Tamarinds—contg about 10 lbs.
Two small Do of mixed Sweetmeats—abt 5 lb. each
And the residue, much or little, in good old Spirits
That this Fellow is both a Rogue & Runaway (tho. he was by no means remarkable for the former, and never practised the latter till of late) I shall not pretend to deny—But that he is exceeding healthy, strong, and good at the Hoe, the whole neighbourhood can testifie & particularly Mr Johnson and his Son, who have both had him under them as foreman of the gang; which gives me reason to hope he may, with your good management, sell well, if kept clean & trim’d up a little when offerd to Sale.
I shall very chearfully allow you the customary Commissions on this affair, and must beg the favour of you (least he shoud attempt his escape) to keep him handcuffd till you get to Sea—or in the Bay—after which I doubt not but you may make him very useful to you.
I wish you a pleasant and prosperous Passage, and a safe & speedy return, being Sir, Yr Very Hble Servt
Go: Washington18
Washington could “resort to compulsory means to effect” Judge’s return because he had signed the Fugitive Slave Act into law. Yet, since the Revolution, he had been saying that he wished “to see some plan adopted, by the legislature by which slavery in this Country may be abolished by slow, sure, & imperceptable degrees.”16 Washington always emphasized that emancipation be gradual; one could argue that this was to acclimate everyone to the notion, but it would, most importantly, lessen the financial blow to slave owners. Still, he did nothing to address the issue while he was in office.
In lieu of coercion from the federal and state governments, Washington could have freed his slaves as an individual, but always found a reason or excuse not to. The main issue was always money. According to a Virginia law passed in 1782, he could set any number of enslaved men, women, and children above forty-five years or under twenty-one (for men) and eighteen (for women) free if they could be “supported and maintained by the person so liberating them.” If he failed to do so, the court would “sell so much of the person’s estate as shall be sufficient for that purpose.”19
Washington didn’t have the cash. “My estate for the last 11 years have not been able to make both ends meet,” he had written to Lund Washington in 1787, and little had changed since.20 Crops regularly failed, meaning he not only couldn’t sell his harvest but had to buy enough to feed his family, employees, and slaves. Those who owed him money were slow to pay him back, if they ever did at all. He struggled to pay taxes. And, of course, he and Martha had become accustomed to a certain standard of living.
It’s hard to know how serious he had been over the years about liberating his slaves; when the topic came up in letters, he often said he would prefer to discuss it in person. Whether those discussions happened and how they went, we’ll never know. What’s clear is that, however Washington felt about owning human beings, he wasn’t willing to part with everything he had to free them.
But in 1797, a sense of urgency was upon him. For one, as Judge had reminded him, death was inevitable, and, given his age, probably near. That led to concerns about legacy. Going into the presidency, Washington had feared that his reputation would take a hit, and that fear had been realized. He needed to take control, once and for all, of the story of his life.21
PART IV
“I Die Hard”
HOECAKES
Washington’s Favorite Breakfast
“[ Washington] ate three small mush cakes (Indian meal) swimming in butter and honey.”
—NELLY PARKE CUSTIS,
WASHINGTON’S STEP-GRANDDAUGHTER
“ The meal was without change to him whose habits were regular, even to matters which others are so apt to indulge themselves in endless variety. Indian cakes, honey, and tea, formed this temperate repast.”
—GEORGE WASHINGTON PARKE CUSTIS,
WASHINGTON’S STEP-GRANDSON*
In the 1790s, Washington’s favorite breakfast was prepared by two enslaved house servants: Nathan, who slept in a bunk in the crowded greenhouse quarters, and Lucy, who lived in a nearby cabin with her husband, Frank Lee, a butler. Their days were long. They were expected to be in the plantation’s mansion house kitchen by 4:30 a.m. to prepare Washington’s breakfast. By 5 a.m., Lucy was stirring the hoecake batter she had prepared the night before, and by 6:30 a.m., she and Frank were frying the hoecakes and preparing coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. They may have added cold cuts or leftovers from the night before to the breakfast spread. At 6:45 a.m., the plantation bell rung, alerting the Washingtons that their breakfast would soon be served, and by 7 a.m., Frank would bring the food to the table for it to be served by Marcus, another house slave. This, along with the sandwich Lucy prepared Washington for his daily eight- to fourteen-mile ride around Mount Vernon, would satisfy him until dinner.
Ingredients
½ teaspoon active dry yeast
2½ cups white cornmeal
3 to 4 cups water, room temperature
1 large egg, room temperature
Vegetable oil or lard
Salt
Directions
The night before: In a large bowl, mix the yeast with 1¼ cups of cornmeal. Stir in 1 cup of water for the consistency of pancake batter. If needed, add an additional cup of water. Cover the bowl and refrigerate overnight.
The next day: Preheat the oven to 200°F. Remove the batter from the refrigerator.
Lightly beat the egg in a small bowl. Add a pinch of salt. Stir it into the batter along with ½ cup of water.
Incrementally stir in the remaining cornmeal and water. Cover and let the batter rest for 20 minutes.
While the batter rests, heat a cast iron pan (or griddle) on medium heat for 5 minutes. When you’re ready to start cooking, lightly grease the pan with oil or lard.
Ladle or pour ¼ cup of the batter onto the pan and cook until slightly brown (about 5 minutes) before flipping. If there’s room, add additional hoecakes to the pan, and when each is completed, put them in the oven to keep warm. Makes about 15 hoecakes.
Serve with plenty of melted butter and honey. Washington washed them down with three cups of tea.
CHAPTER 19
Final Retirement
About five months after Washington retired to Mount Vernon for the third time, he and Martha received a wedding invitation from a nephew. Washington RSVP’d to Lawrence Augustine Washington with a bit of light fatalism: “Wedding assemblies are better calculated for those who are coming in to than to those who are going out of life, you must accept the good wishes of your Aunt and myself in place of personal attendance, for I think it not likely that either of us will ever be more than 25 miles from Mount Vernon again.”1
WASHINGTON’S RETIREMENT SCHEDULE
“I begin my diurnal course with the sun,” Washington wrote to Secretary of War James McHenry on May 29, 1797. “If my hirelings are not in their places at that time I send t
hem messages expressive of my sorrow for their indisposition.” Washington, an exacting, demanding boss, found Mount Vernon had once again fallen into disrepair in his absence.3
MORNING
AFTERNOON
EVENING
Rides out at daybreak
Visits all the farms
Returns for breakfast
Writes letters in the library
Dresses and dines between 2 and 3 p.m.
Social hour(s)
Writes more letters
Tends to private affairs
Tea or coffee
Reads or visits with family and friends
Retires at 9 p.m., no supper
Washington wanted to die there, and figured it would happen soon. He said so to practically everyone he corresponded with, including a gardener he aimed to tempt from Scotland: “I am once more seated under my own Vine and fig tree, and hope to spend the remainder of my days—which in the ordinary course of things (being in my Sixty sixth year) cannot be many—in peaceful retirement, making political pursuits yield to the more rational amusement of cultivating the Earth.”2 As he reminded his nephew Burgess Ball, “I was the first, and am now the last, of my fathers Children by the second marriage who remain. When I shall be called upon to follow them, is known only to the giver of life. When the summons comes I shall endeavour to obey it with a good grace.”4 He had Martha write to Elizabeth Powel that “he has entered into an engagement with Mr Morris and several other Gentlemen not to quit the theatre of this world before the year 1800.”5 On a ride with another nephew, he pointed to the planned site of a new family mausoleum and said, “This change I shall make the first of all, for I may require it before the rest.”6