By an Associate.
Continuing the narrative that began here.
These disappointments temporarily soured Washington on the military life, and he used the excuse of having been elected to a seat in the House of Burgesses to resign his commission. In gratitude for his service, he was made brigadier general at his resignation, for which his tailor made him a magnificent new buff-and-blue uniform. Washington indeed kept his tailor very busy: he had outgrown all his old clothes, and his tailor now measured him at six feet two inches tall.
I mention these momentous events only in passing because I was not part of them. On our return from the Braddock expedition, Washington had entrusted me and Parson Weems with a more delicate commission.
We had dinner at Ramsey’s Tavern in Williamsburg the evening Washington personally delivered his account of the Braddock expedition to the governor, and it was over the Madeira after dinner that Washington brought up his plan.
“Gist, Parson,” he began, “I am now at an age and in a position where it no longer behooves me to pass through life alone. It is true that my duties have kept me occupied hitherto, and I have not spent much time at home. But, as the governor intends to entrust me with the command of the entire Virginia militia, I cannot but assume that this French war will soon be brought to a successful conclusion; and then it will be time for me to cultivate the arts of peace. Now there is a wise old saying” (here he produced his copybook): “ ‘When yawning, put your handkerchief or hand before your face, and do not make a great show of the thing.’ In other words gentlemen, it is time for me to find a wife.”
The parson and I agreed that it would be an excellent idea for Washington to marry, and I asked him whether he had any suitable lady in mind.
“No,” he answered, “and that is the commission with which I am entrusting you. No one knows my tastes and inclinations better than you two gentlemen. If you could find me a wife and have her ready for me by the time I finish the war, I shall be very much obliged to you.”
Parson Weems gave me a glance with a raised eyebrow, signaling that he expected me to handle this matter. I boldly forged ahead.
“I’m not sure how I’d go about finding a suitable young lady,” I began delicately.
“Oh, but that is the simple part. The ladies will come to you. I have a plan that cannot possibly fail. The Virginia Gazette in Williamsburg, and the Alexandria Gazette in the town of that name, print more than three dozen copies between them, reaching every estate of note in Virginia. A notice printed in those two papers will be read by every eligible young lady in the country, or by her father, which comes to the same thing. Let it be once printed, and, as I say, the ladies will come to you. You need only choose the most suitable candidate and present her upon my return for my approval—which will doubtless be forthcoming, since I have boundless confidence in you two gentlemen.”
I glanced over at Weems, who indicated by his expression that he would prefer to have me continue to handle the discussion.
“And what would we say in this notice?” I asked Washington.
“You needn’t trouble yourselves about that. I have already made up a suitable announcement, which I shall leave with you so that you may manage the business with the printers.”
He reached into his breast pocket and brought out a folded paper, which I unfolded and read:
Gentleman farmer , tall, noted war hero, seeks extremely wealthy heiress or widow for marriage & investment purposes. I bear the rank of Colonel & own an estate bounded by the Potomac on the east & the Russian Empire on the west. I enjoy puppet-shows, equestrian exercises, fox-hunting, wrestling, fishing, dancing, billiards, bear-baiting, theater, cards, colt-breaking, duck-shooting, Madeira, & leading men into battle, but especially puppet-shows. You enjoy being rich, managing a large estate, entertaining important guests, & watching your husband invest your money in ambitious land schemes beyond the Alleghenies. Let us unite & profit from said union.
I passed the paper to Parson Weems for his perusal while Washington explained, “You will of course add the necessary information so that the ladies may reach you, and perhaps you will wish to make up a list of questions to ask when you interview them, such as ‘How much land do you possess?’ and ‘How much per annum does it produce?’ But I leave these minor details to your discretion.”
“I gather,” I said, “that the wealth is of paramount importance. But are there any other qualities you would look for in a wife? Physical qualities perhaps?”
“Well, of course she ought to be in good health. You might examine her teeth. I have been having trouble with mine, and a wife with bad teeth would be troublesome. I always examine the teeth before I acquire a horse, and I suppose the same precaution might be useful in acquiring a wife.”
I tried to phrase the question a little more directly. “I mean to say, are there any physical qualities that attract you more than others?”
“Sturdiness,” replied Washington. “Durability. Like any other household apparatus, a wife should be capable of reliable and continuous service.”
I glanced at Weems, who reluctantly picked up the thread of the unraveling discourse. “He means,” the parson began, and from there launched a detailed description of some of the things a husband might want from a wife, using some language that I might not ordinarily have wished to employ in company, but which was probably rendered necessary by Washington’s apparent ignorance of the subject.
“My word!” Washington exclaimed when the parson had finished his discourse. “I had no idea marriage involved so many mechanical operations. But I should think that in this enlightened age we could dispense with those. The important thing is the land. Or the money, or any other forms of wealth. A happy alliance of fortunes is what I seek, and of course an eye for the proprieties in the entertainment of my guests. As for the rest, I rely on your wisdom and experience. It is the mark of a good commander to surround himself with capable men, and two more capable men than yourselves, gentlemen, I do not know.”
Accordingly, while Washington was off on Forbes’ successful expedition against Fort Duquesne, Parson Weems and I were managing the business of finding a wife for him.
We paid the printers to insert Washington’s advertisement as he had suggested, adding a time at which candidates would be seen in the rooms we had rented next to the Gazette printing office on King-street in Alexandria. I had expected three or four ladies at most, and had been fully prepared to waste a day without seeing any. But when the appointed day came, I arrived at King-street to find a line of young and hopeful ladies stretching down to the docks, many of them accompanied by their fathers, others by brothers or elderly aunts. We had a full day of work ahead of us, for it seems that the word had got out that the gentleman farmer in the papers was none other than Washington himself, the most coveted match in the colonies.
Parson Weems and I divided the work between us. If one of us found a candidate who seemed to have the right qualities, she would be sent to the other to confirm the choice; then, out of that small number of best candidates, we would agree on one to present to Washington.
The plan was a sound one, but how much work it took to get us to that firm conclusion! With a feeling near despair I began questioning our first candidate and her father.
“What sort of fortune have you?” I asked her.
“My—” she began, but her father interrupted:
“A gentleman would not ask such a question.”
I had to agree with him. I did not feel much like a gentleman that day, asking very personal questions of young ladies with whom I was not acquainted at all. Most of them had more hope than fortune. Some expected their beauty to compensate for their relative poverty; more than one of them could have had me for a husband that very day, but I was not the husband they were looking for. Twice I was threatened with a thrashing, once by a brother and once by an elderly but vigorous aunt.
The sun was low in the sky by the time we ran through all the candidates. Then it was time for us to speak to the ones we had set aside as possibilities. I had picked three for Weems to interview and he had left me five.
The first of Weems’ choices came in alone. She was a very attractive woman, with emerald eyes and a copious mane of red hair; but her manner did not suggest an aristocratic upbringing.
“What sort of fortune have you?” I asked her.
“My pa’s got a tavern on the Occoquan Ferry road,” she replied.
“I see. And what do you think you have to offer Colonel Washington?”
“You want me to show you?”
After that interview I could see why she had appealed to Parson Weems, and I made sure to note the location of her father’s tavern. But she had nothing of what Washington was looking for.
The next lady also came in alone, but in her dress and demeanor she showed every evidence of belonging to the old Virginian aristocracy. I began with my usual question:
“What sort of fortune have you?”
“Well,” she began, “I have eight thousand acres outside of Williamsburg, three thousand five hundred on the…”
I traced the properties she mentioned on Farrier’s Map of the Province of Virginia as she rattled them off. The list went on for quite a while, and it was a nearly perfect fit. All the bits of Virginia that were not owned by Washington seemed to be owned by this woman. She had certain other sources of wealth, including a number of slaves, but it was the land that I knew would appeal to Washington.
“What is your family background, Miss…”
“Custis, sir—Martha Custis, widow of the late Daniel Parke Custis. My lamented husband left me comfortable; I mourned his passing, of course, but in the words of a wise old saying,—” here she produced a small ornately bound copybook and leafed through the pages. “Here it is: ‘Do not read over another’s shoulder unless asked to render an opinion.’ ” She closed the book, satisfied that she had made her point.
“Martha Custis,” I said to Parson Weems after the last of the candidates had left.
“Martha Custis,” he agreed. “But I hope you enjoyed the tavern wench.”
When Washington returned to Mount Vernon as a brigadier general, therefore, Parson Weems and I were able to present it to him as our united opinion that Martha Custis was the wife for him.
“Splendid,” said Washington. “Install her as mistress of the house at once, and we’ll have no more worries on that subject.”
“It might be best to meet her first,” I suggested.
“No need for that. I trust you implicitly.”
“Just for courtesy’s sake,” I insisted.
“Ah, yes, of course. A matter of civility and decent behavior. Thank you, Gist, for reminding me. Three months of frontier fighting have perhaps dulled some of my polish. Will there be any other little necessary civilities?”
“A wedding is usually expected,” said Parson Weems.
“I had forgotten. Parson, I rely on you to deal with that aspect of the arrangements. Bring Mrs. Custis up to Mount Vernon, let’s have a meeting and a wedding, and then my domestic arrangements will be complete.”
Within a week we had Martha Custis at Mount Vernon, and Washington met his future wife for the first time. It was not five minutes before they had both pulled out their copybooks and were exchanging wise old sayings.
“And what especially pleases me,” Washington confided to us later, “is that she has experience in the wifing business, so that she will be able to take up her duties immediately without any special training.”
An alliance between two such illustrious families was inevitably a great event in Virginia society. All the Washingtons and Custises and Byrds and Randolphs and Taylors and Harrisons were there, and they all brought their copybooks with them, so that the air was thick with flying aphorisms. The wedding dinner was on a magnificent scale, and Parson Weems and I were among the guests who were privileged to stay at Mount Vernon that night—for even in those days, before Washington’s additions, the house had generous accommodations for guests.
I rose early the next morning, and somewhat to my surprise found Washington already out walking in the herb garden.
“My word, Gist, what a happy man you’ve made me!” he exclaimed as soon as he saw me. “Martha is everything I could have wanted in a wife!”
“It gives me great satisfaction to see you so well matched,” I replied.
“To every young gentleman, I should certainly recommend taking an experienced woman to wife,” he continued with a broad smile. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Gist.”
“I have some idea,” I said, returning his smile.
“She introduced me to a new sensation I had never before experienced, Gist!”
“Did she indeed?”
“She calls it cribbage. I wonder how I could have come so far in life without having been introduced to the game before.”
Martha proved to be in every way the wife Washington needed and deserved. She was an accomplished hostess and a good manager, and the Washingtons’ house became famous throughout Virginia for its hospitality. The next few years were a time of peace and prosperity for my friend Washington, and it seemed as though he had left military pursuits altogether and grown into his role of gentleman farmer. I took a house in Alexandria, not far from Mount Vernon, and Washington still found occasional uses for me. But it seemed as though his days of daring adventure were over. I had not, however, counted on the callous incompetence of the ministers in London.
To be continued in Chapter V. Or you can order the whole book now and spare yourself the wait.