Washington

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  CHAPTER / 25

  As the summer of 1799 ended and Washington pondered the realities of a complex plantation and the changes he should make towards its simplification, he was much alone at his work and in his thoughts. Martha’s illness denied him her cheerful company; the reliable Lear had gone “to try the air of the mountains”; the light-hearted, lovable Nelly and her Lawrence had not yet returned from a trip to the mineral springs; and manager Anderson still was ailing. Although his need for cash continued, no spark of response from his debtors was visible. Both time and forage were exacted of him by military “applicants, recommenders of applicants and seekers of information,” who, with their servants and horses, made pilgrimages to Mount Vernon. But even in these circumstances, Washington declined McHenry’s offer of two months’ military pay. Sorrow was added to Washington’s anxiety and irksome duties when, on September 20, he received news of the death of Charles Washington, his younger brother. “I was the first, and am now the last, of my father’s children by the second marriage who remain,” the General observed, and added, “when I shall be called upon to follow them, is known only to the giver of life.”

  About this time Washington wrote Lawrence Lewis a letter he had been contemplating for some weeks. If the General’s proposal was well received, a step towards reduction of the lands immediately under his care would be accomplished to his own satisfaction and, he hoped, to his nephew’s delight. Washington explained and described to Lawrence the lands he had bequeathed jointly to him and Nelly in his will, with the suggestion that they might choose a site for their house and commence building at pleasure. Until it was ready Mount Vernon would continue to be their home. Washington then offered the mill and distillery, which James Anderson apparently had declined, in addition to the farm on Dogue Run, at “a just and equitable rent,” and the hire of the hands there also; “it being necessary,” the General observed, “that a young man should have objects of employment.” He sealed and sent the letter to Alexandria, but somehow it missed the mail and was returned to Mount Vernon. Anderson, meanwhile, had advised the General of his decision to rent the distillery and mill after all and to relinquish his position as manager at the end of the year. Washington explained this to Lawrence in a letter of September 28, which he attached to the earlier communication. He did not wish to hurt the feelings of the “obliging and zealous” manager by dismissing him, but if Anderson engaged in the business of milling and distilling, his withdrawal as manager would be his own act and Washington’s wishes thus would be served without embarrassment.

  Washington did not wait for Lawrence’s answer. In expectation of the young couple’s early return to Mount Vernon, and in belief that the plan would be agreeable to Lawrence, the General made firm his earlier offer to Anderson for rental of the mill and distillery, but he made clear that when Lewis returned he wished to work the mill and the distillery. With Anderson’s acquiescence, that became the accepted arrangement.

  There were fewer visitors at Mount Vernon for a while. Late in September Gov. William R. Davie, who had replaced Henry for the mission to France, called on Washington. Towards the end of October British Minister Liston and his lady came for three days. By this time Martha was regaining her strength, Lawrence and Nelly were settled again in the mansion, and Lear had returned. The complexion of plantation life took on a brighter hue.

  The same could not be said for the aspect of national affairs. When Washington heard of the President’s order for the immediate embarkation of Judge Ellsworth and Governor Davie, he hoped the measure had been “considered in all its relations,” but Hamilton had little reassurance and Pickering none. Without prior word to anyone Adams on October 10 ordered the mission to proceed. Although his department heads were available, he neither asked their counsel nor heeded the advice they volunteered. Washington, in a private letter of October 27, expressed misgivings at the President’s “late decision” and commented to Hamilton: “I was surprised at the measure, how much more so at the manner of it? This business seems to have commenced in an evil hour, and under unfavorable auspices; and I wish mischief may not tread in all its steps, and be the final result of the measure.” But Washington was not without that faith he had voiced in other and darker days. His closing words to Hamilton were: “. . . I have the same reliance on Providence which you express, and trust that matters will end well, however unfavorable they may appear at present.”

  Correspondence in recent months made it desirable for Washington to resurvey his property on Difficult Run and check a small tract close by. A visit to the Federal City was made on November 9, and there he inspected his buildings. He was pleased that the houses were ready for occupancy and hoped to find reliable tenants. The General figured that an income of 7½ percent on his investment would be a fair return and on this basis computed the rent at $1200 annually.

  For a time after his return on November 10 master of Mount Vernon had preponderance over General of the Army. Although the question of winter quarters for the troops required his attention, much of the correspondence could be handled by Lear, who was thoroughly familiar with the problem and with the possibilities of hutting at and in the vicinity of Harpers Ferry. Moreover, Lear could answer appeals for the Commander-in-Chief in matters of minor military rank by referring them to General Pinckney for decision. When he learned of Bryan Fairfax’s return from England, Washington went promptly to Mount Eagle with warm greetings for his old friend. Sunday the seventeenth he was in his pew at Christ Church and afterward dined at the Alexandria residence of William Fitzhugh. By the time he was well on his way homeward, evening had overtaken him and his companions, Lawrence Lewis, young Custis and a neighbor. The General was astride a new Narragansett horse and the riders were proceeding at a pleasant gait when Washington drew rein and dismounted to look more closely at fields or fences. As he stepped into the stirrup again the horse lurched forward and the General fell heavily to the ground. Almost before his startled companions could alight, he was on his feet with assurances that he was unhurt, but in the confusion the frightened horses sped away. The deserted riders continued their journey on foot. They had gone only a short distance when the horses came in sight, subdued by some neighborhood servants, and the travelers soon were remounted for the few miles that would bring them to Mount Vernon.

  If he followed his usual pattern, the General had attended to his correspondence early on that Sunday morning. It consisted of a single letter to James McHenry, but by no means was it comparable in length to the one he had just received from the Secretary of War—”with the contents of which I have been stricken dumb,” the General confessed. McHenry’s communication was so laden with disturbing confidences that all the anxious and painful fears of recent months seemed close to realization. He had begun by transferring the rumor of a serious rift between President and Cabinet from the realm of the conjectural to that of the positive. The rupture had become irreparable with the recent mission to France, when, in deciding the measure, Adams had ignored his Secretaries. “The President believes, and with reason,” McHenry wrote, “that three of the heads of departments have viewed the mission as impolitic and unwise . . . I find that he is particularly displeased with Mr. Pickering and Mr. Wolcott, thinking they have encouraged opposition to it to the eastward; seemingly a little less so with me. . . .” Whether the President would find it expedient to dismiss any of the Cabinet, McHenry could not predict, but he observed: “The evil does not lie in a change of secretaries . . . but in the mission which . . . is become an apple of discord to the Federalists, that may so operate upon the ensuing election of President, as to put in jeopardy the fruits of all their past labors, by consigning to men devoted to French innovations and demoralizing principles, the reins of government. It is this dreaded consequence which afflicts and calls for all the wisdom of the Federalists.”

  There was much more that augured ill for the United States and for Federalism: Pennsylvania’s election of a Republican governor; attack by enemies of the admin
istration on the renewal of trade with San Domingo; the continued charge of British influence; the unfortunate effects on the public mind produced by the schisms between President and Cabinet and among Federalists generally. All in all, it could not have been a gloomier presentation. “I see rocks and quicksands on all sides,” the Secretary concluded, “and the administration in the attitude of a sinking ship. It will . . . depend very much upon the President, whether she is to weather the storm or go down.” To McHenry’s appeal for counsel, Washington answered resolutely: “. . . I believe it is better that I should remain mute than express any sentiment on the important matters which are related. . . .” Then, with a rally of his philosophic resources, he added: “The vessel is afloat, or very nearly so, and considering myself as a passenger only, I shall trust to the mariners whose duty it is to watch, to steer it into a safe port.”

  On the afternoon of November 22 the sound of carriage wheels called Washington to welcome Col. and Mrs. Edward Carrington, who had come from Richmond. Presently, they were joined in the parlor by Martha and five “pleasant and agreeable” younger women. Nelly was among them, though she was expecting a child soon, and a midwife had been established in the household for the event. Perceiving this, the thoughtful Colonel and his lady, over Washington’s protest, departed the next morning to spend several days with friends in and near the Federal City. Doctor Craik, who now paid his visits with more than usual frequency, was summoned early on the morning of the twenty-seventh, and before noon Nelly was delivered of a daughter. The following day the Carringtons returned to finish out their visit. Washington’s attachment for the Colonel was more than ever manifest during the few days they were together. The two had shared many memorable experiences and with Carrington Washington felt free in conversation. Eliza Carrington was impressed with those hours of the day enjoyed under Martha’s sole hospitality. After breakfast on the thirtieth, good-byes were said and the Carrington carriage headed for Richmond. The last days of November had been just such ones as Washington might wish to be the pattern for his years of retirement.

  After breakfast on December 9 the General stood at the front steps to wish Lawrence Lewis and Washington Custis a pleasant journey as they set out for New Kent. That same morning he said good-bye also to Lawrence’s brother Howell and his wife, who had been at Mount Vernon for ten days. “It was a bright frosty morning,” one of the nephews later recounted; “he had taken his usual ride and the clear healthy flush on his cheek and his sprightly manner, brought the remark from both of us that we had never seen the General look so well. I have sometimes thought him decidedly the handsomest man I ever saw; and when in lively mood, so full of pleasantry, so agreeable to all with whom he associated, that I could hardly realize that he was the same Washington whose dignity awed all who approached him.”

  The master of Mount Vernon did not find it convenient to attend the meeting of the Potomac Company in Alexandria on the tenth. That day he put into final form a plan for cropping and managing the Mount Vernon estate, to be followed for the year 1800 and several years thereafter. By a fixed procedure he hoped to maintain the optimum in quality of land and quantity of production and through an established system to achieve in time the best possible economy of labor. Specific directions for operating the plan, field by field, were set down for each of the farms remaining in his own hands—River, Union and Muddy Hole.

  Early in the morning of December 12 the General wrote Hamilton on the subject of a military academy. Hamilton had proposed a plan for establishment of such an institution in a letter to McHenry and had forwarded a copy to Washington for his criticism, but the Commander-in-Chief declined to counsel. Whereas he always had been impressed with the importance of a training school for soldiers, Washington explained, and during his Presidency repeatedly had called it to the attention of the legislators and recommended it to the people in his public speeches, he never had gone into the details of organization. Rather he chose to leave this task to others, “whose pursuits in the paths of science . . . better qualified them for the execution of it.” With the interest and help of the Secretary of War, he hoped the measure soon would be approved. By ten o’clock, the master of Mount Vernon was in the saddle and off for his ride around the plantation.

  The General had not long been out when a change in the weather brought snow, then sleet, then settled for a while into cold, steady rain that turned again to snow before the ride was ended. By the time he reached the Mansion House at the end of his circuit he had been in the open for more than five hours. As soon as he came in Lear brought some letters to be franked. Washington took them, but remarked that the weather was too severe to send a servant to the Post Office that evening. Lear saw that snow still clung to the General’s hair and that his neck was wet, but Washington assured the secretary his greatcoat had kept him dry. He then went directly in to dinner, which had been kept waiting for him and, contrary to his usual custom, did not change his clothes beforehand. “In the evening,” Lear later recorded, “he appeared as well as usual.”

  The cold northeast wind persisted, but during the night it began to bring only snow and on the thirteenth Washington looked out onto white-covered fields. He went to his desk, wrote a brief note to Anderson to accompany his copy for the over-all farm plan and to admonish his manager about the condition of the cattle pens. Had his throat not been sore, he probably would have defied the weather in favor of his usual ride, but the combination of circumstances induced him to stay indoors for the better part of the day. In the early afternoon the snow ceased and by four o’clock “it became perfectly clear.” There remained almost an hour before sunset, and Washington saw no reason why he should not go out on the front lawn and mark certain trees he wished removed.

  After the evening meal, Martha sat in the parlor with the General and Lear. In spite of a hoarseness that had developed with his cold and noticeably worsened, Washington read aloud from recently arrived gazettes various items of interest or amusement, as often he did. Presently Martha withdrew from the cheerful conversation to visit with Nelly. After she went upstairs Washington asked his secretary to read to him the debates in the Virginia General Assembly on the selection of a governor and a Senator. When the two said good night, Lear suggested that his chief take something for his cold, but Washington reminded his companion that he never took anything for a cold but preferred to “let it go as it came.” The General, as did Lear, probably attributed the disorder to his exposure the day before. Certainly his health and spirits seemed at their best otherwise.

  At that darkest of hours, long before the dawn of a mid-December day, Washington suffered a severe ague. Sometime between two and three o’clock he woke Martha and told her he was ill. He breathed with difficulty and scarcely could speak. Her impulse was to go at once for a servant, but fearful lest she contract another of her dangerous colds, the General would not allow her to get up in the chilled room. With the sunrise, which was after seven o’clock, the housemaid Caroline came to make the morning fire. Martha directed her at once to call Lear and, at Washington’s request, a summons also was sent to overseer Rawlins at Union Farm to come and bleed him, since it would be some time before the doctor could arrive.

  Lear dressed quickly and hurried to the bedchamber. Martha was up and told him of the General’s seizure. His breathing still was labored and his words almost unintelligible. Lear dispatched his own servant in all haste with a note for Doctor Craik. This done, he returned to the bedside and saw there was no change. Washington tried to take some of a mixture of molasses, vinegar and butter that was offered him in the hope it might relieve his throat, but he could not swallow it. Each effort to do so brought on a spasm and it seemed almost as if he would suffocate.

  Soon after daybreak Rawlins arrived, and as the overseer tremulously began his unhappy task, Washington said, “Don’t be afraid.” When the incision was made, the General observed, “The orifice is not large enough,” though the blood flowed rather freely. Martha feared the procedure mi
ght be harmful rather than helpful, and at her earnest request Lear moved to stop the bleeding, but Washington gestured otherwise and as soon as he could speak said “More.” Shortly, out of respect to Martha’s continuing concern, the measure was stopped after about half a pint was taken. Still there was no change. Lear then, gently as he could, applied sal volatile externally to the throat. As his fingers touched the affected area, Washington remarked, “ ’Tis very sore.” A soft cloth soaked in the solution then was wrapped around his neck, and his feet were bathed in warm water. It was past eight o’clock and still there was no change.

  About this time Washington said he would like to get up. His clothes were brought and he was dressed, probably by his body servant Christopher, who had come in the early morning to wait on his master and remained to attend him throughout the day and evening. Washington was helped to a chair by the fire, where he sat for almost two hours, without relief. Martha, meanwhile, remembering Doctor Craik’s suggestion that in event of serious illness at Mount Vernon, Dr. Gustavus Richard Brown of Port Tobacco should be called, asked Lear to send for him. The groom Cyrus was dispatched at once on the urgent mission. It was about nine o’clock. Shortly afterward, Doctor Craik alighted at the door and hurried to his friend’s bedside. As soon as he ascertained the nature of the affliction, which he diagnosed as “inflammatory quinsy,” the Doctor put a blister of cantharides on the throat in the hope of drawing the inflammation to the surface. A second bleeding then was done. Washington was able to inhale from a steaming kettle of vinegar and water, but could not gargle. When he leaned back to let a mixture of sage tea and vinegar run down his throat, he again almost suffocated. There was an involuntary effort to cough, in which Doctor Craik encouraged him, but Washington could do no more than make the attempt. Still there was no change.