Free The Intimate Lives of the Founding Fathers by Thomas Fleming

bombardment. On October 17, a British officer waving a white flag appeared outside their works and delivered a letter from his commander, Charles, Lord Cornwallis, asking for terms. Two days later, the British marched out and surrendered their guns. By this time, Jack Custis was so weak that he could barely sit up in a carriage to watch the ceremony.
    A distressed Washington joined Dr. Craik in virtually ordering Jack to go to Eltham, his uncle Burwell Bassett’s plantation, about thirty miles from Yorktown. The general stayed at Yorktown for the rest of October, dealing with the thousand and one details of the new situation created by the victory. Not until the first days of November did he set out for MountVernon with his staff. On the way, he left his aides at a nearby tavern and rode to Eltham to check on Jack Custis.
    Imagine his consternation when he was met at the door of the Bassett mansion by a weeping Martha; Jack’s wife, Nelly; and their oldest daughter, Eliza. Jack was dying. Washington raced upstairs to the sickroom, where several doctors were standing around Jack’s bed, their heads bowed in defeat. Jack’s breath was dwindling in his throat. Washington could only watch as he expired. 9
    The general’s first concern was Martha. She was overwhelmed with grief. Washington spent the next five days at Eltham, presiding over Jack’s funeral and doing his utmost to console his wife. It was a dismaying interlude at a time when everyone else in Virginia and the rest of the nation was celebrating the Yorktown victory. Her son’s death must have triggered an inner struggle for Martha. As her husband ascended to glory, she was plunged into despair. But she was consoled by Nelly and the four adorable grandchildren, and sustained by Washington’s strength and love.
    Still fighting a war, the general asked Martha’s brother, Bartholomew Dandridge, to take charge of Nelly and the children and act as the executor of Jack’s estate. Dandridge refused to accept responsibility for the children, and when he got a look at Jack’s account books, he was soon moaning that everything was an unholy mess. Some historians have noted that Washington never uttered a word of grief for Jack. This may be true, but that does not mean he did not grieve for him. By now the general had no illusions about human nature. He had seen too many other men with character defects to judge Jack harshly; he could not deny a stepfather’s memories of tender moments. As a man who had lost his own father in his boyhood, his heart went out to Jack’s four children. He ruefully but willingly made them his responsibility.
    VII
    The war dragged on for two more years. Most of the time, the general and Martha lived in a house in Newburgh, a few miles from the Continental Army’s camp in New Windsor, about forty miles north of New York. Often during these months, Washington reported Martha was “low,” suffering from “bilious fevers and colic” and other complaints, probably symptoms of depression. Washington was bored and not a little irritatedat Congress’s inability to raise money to pay his troops. He, too, had minor physical woes; missing teeth made it difficult to chew his food and his eyes were beginning to fail. He ordered two sets of spectacles from Philadelphia, one for distant vision, the other for reading.
    From Virginia came more bad news about his mother. Mary was back at her old game, telling everyone in Fredericksburg and elsewhere that she was penniless and close to starvation. An angry Washington wrote to his favorite younger brother, Jack, begging him to pay their mother a visit. He urged Jack to tell Mary “in delicate terms” that she should not accept money or favors from anyone but her “relations.” He had no doubt whatsoever that they would be able to satisfy her “ real wants.” As for her “ imaginary wants,” they were “boundless and always changing.” 10
    On his way to Mount Vernon from Yorktown, Washington