This is part III of Lea Sylvestro’s saga about her visit to Mount Vernon with her high school chums. You can read previous installments:
Column: If the Men Won’t, ‘The Ladies’ Will, Mount Vernon, Part I
Column: Evolution of a Leader and a Republic, Mount Vernon Part II
Surprisingly, when George Washington returned to Mount Vernon for good after long years away as commander of the Continental army and then as president, his finances were unstable. His policy had long been to keep enslaved families together, and as his “unavoidable regret” over slavery grew, he had vowed to no longer buy or sell humans, so there was no gain to be made there.
Steve Bashore, master distiller, told our group that, knowing the perils of liquor, Washington was disinclined to encourage that industry when his Scottish farm manager, James Anderson, urged him to open a distillery. The estate was not producing enough to offset expenses, however, and when Washington discovered he could turn a much-needed profit from whiskey sales, he cautiously delved into that enterprise.
After a delicious lunch of salads from the Mount Vernon Inn, it was time to visit the re-enactor encampment and browse the vendor’s wares. While my friends and I wished to support the distillery, we had not indulged in any noon whiskey tippling, planning instead to purchase some later at the museum gift shop. In the meantime, distant drumbeats bid us hasten to the field of battle.
While Colonial Massachusetts had militias, for the most part, the soldiers of the Continental army were untrained, undisciplined, and unused to following orders, a source of tremendous frustration for General Washington. The re-enactors in the buff, blue, and cream uniforms of the Continental soldiers seemed similarly at ease compared to the strutting scarlet enemy.
The sky was heavy with the threat of rain, and an announcer made clear that wet gun powder was no friend to war. As onlookers in capes tugged them closer and those in jeans raised umbrellas, the Continental soldiers loaded canons as the Red Coats closed in. Amid flashes of musket fire and billowing smoke that all but engulfed them, those engaged on the field appeared as ghostly as the long dead men they represented.
After the re-enactment, it was fitting that we visit the Washingtons’ tomb. Every day at Mount Vernon, a prayer is read, and a wreath laid on the President’s sarcophagus. During our visit, we were given that honor. Washington himself chose the site and the design for the tomb where he and Martha rest. Unlike others who extol themselves with grand monuments and epitaphs, his bears no dates, no weighty words, and no mention of achievements… simply his last name.
When the Mount Vernon Ladies Association (MVLA) began their fundraising campaign, the country was still young, and the divisions that led to the Civil War were simmering. In America, no one was thinking to preserve historic sites — until Louisa Cunningham spotted the deteriorating mansion on the rise above the Potomac. In saving and restoring Mount Vernon, the preservation movement itself was launched.
It was late afternoon when Dr. Susan Schoelwer, executive director of historic preservation and collections, met us at the mansion. As we walked around to the piazza facing the river, I spotted a tourist from a bygone century, a member of the Royal Highland Regiment perhaps, craning to peek in the dining room window. How many different frocks, bonnets, boots, and overcoats have clothed those who explored these grounds and peeked in the windows in the years since the ladies preserved the property?
On the far side of the house, a flock of geese wandered and browsed the lawn as, with a sweep of her arm, Dr. Schoelwer gestured to the opposite bank. It was lush and green with no sign of human intrusion, “Just as the Washingtons would have seen it,” she said. “The ladies felt this was an important feature, and through outright purchase and conservation easements they have ensured this view would remain.”
We began our tour of the mansion in the front hall. I gazed up the staircase and into the adjacent rooms and mused about the many homes, taverns, and inns that boast, true or not, “George Washington slept here.” My nose prickled, as it did so many times during our visit, in thinking this was the man’s home.
While most of the original furnishings were dispersed to family members or sold after Martha Washington’s passing, one item, weighty in fact and symbolism, has remained in the house since the president placed it in a display case in the foyer. Presented to Washington by the Marquis de Lafayette after the demolition of the notorious prison during the French Revolution, it is the key to the Bastille: “a tribute I owe as A Son to My Adoptive father, as an aid de Camp to My General, as a Missionary of liberty to its patriarch.”
As Dr. Schoelwer led us from room to room, commenting on the research commissioned by the ladies that led to the upholstery patterns and surprisingly vibrant paint colors, I tried to conjure Washington as the human who lived here. In paintings and statues, he is frozen, regal as the king he refused to be. Since he is always portrayed tight-lipped, I wondered, was he much of a talker? The curse of terrible teeth caused him constant pain, and his spring-loaded dentures must have made speech a challenge. No doubt people expected profundity whenever he opened his mouth, a pressure he probably wished to avoid.
Correspondence from early in his presidency indicates that he would have preferred to avoid being president as well. As he approached the day of his inauguration, he wrote to Henry Knox that he felt like “a culprit going to his place of execution.” To Edward Rutledge, he worried that he would not meet the expectations of his fellow Americans. The man was nervous, like any of us would be.
Toward the end of the tour, we entered the bedroom in which Washington died. Against the wall under four portraits of the Washington grandchildren, was a small desk. “Although Martha burned all their correspondence, two letters from the President to his wife were discovered behind the drawer in this desk,” said Dr. Schoelwer. “One told her of his call to head the Continental Army; the other of his election to the presidency. Given their significance to the two of them as a couple, I think she held on to them on purpose.”
Dr. Schoelwer then told us about a postscript to one of the letters in which Washington mentioned that he had purchased some fabric Martha had requested, and he hoped it was what she wanted.
“He was shopping for her!” exclaimed Dr. Schoelwer.
And, like any husband, hoped he had done the right thing.
While Washington was widely esteemed and felt to be the one man who could, perhaps, unite the new states, this remained a challenge. Within his own cabinet, Thomas Jefferson was wary of centralized government and the president’s popularity and sought to undermine him, and the heated debate over slavery already threatened to divide the fledgling nation. Washington’s Presence was his power, and he knew the people needed to be convinced. To familiarize himself with the customs of the formerly separate colonies and to bring that personal power into play, Washington undertook several lengthy tours after his inauguration.
Over the years, the towns he visited have perpetuated legendary tales of his stay. How many are accurate? Historian and writer Nathaniel Philbrick was curious, and in his book “Travels with George,” he recounts his findings as he, his wife, Melissa, and their dog, Dora, followed the routes Washington took from 1789 to 1791.
One anecdote seemed, to Philbrick, almost ubiquitous. Whether from the mouth of a disappointed youngster expecting to see a god-like vision or from Washington himself when encountering the high expectations of his countryfolk, the line “he’s just a man” surfaced countless times. Because of the repetition, Philbrick doubted the tale — but it makes sense to me.
As my friends and I strolled the grounds of his home, gazed at his books and belongings, and stood by the bed where he died, I was inclined to drop the “just” but marveled at what he accomplished, human as he was. In walking away from the presidency, he left to succeeding generations and leaders his legacy and challenge: to have the integrity, patriotism, and belief in the country’s ideals to do the same.
