 |
| James Craik |
Very often the first president of the United States is portrayed as a man with scant emotional response. As a commander-in-chief, he was stern but fair to his subordinates. There is no reason to believe that he was unhappy with Martha and his adopted children. The following conversation shows a warmer and more vulnerable side to George Washington.
Washington: It is so good to have you
here in my home after so many years, James.
James Craik: Mount Vernon is indeed a
beautiful and restorative retreat.
Washington: As
Physician General of the United States Army, you have special insight into
what may heal the body and the soul beyond the magic of your pharmacy. This
is where I dragged myself during the winter of 1757. The frontier had taken
its toll on me with an illness to disprove my invincibility.
Craik: Surely
we could have found a more noble cause for our abilities than to help extend
the perpetual war between France and Britain to North America. We lent our
support to British Colonists wanting to take over French land and steal from
them their lucrative fur trade. How flattered we both were to be given titles
which we both wore proudly to hide the fact that we were uniformed brigands.
Washington:
Governor Dinwiddie chose me —Major Washington, then 21 years old, for the
trek into the Ohio Country to assess the French military situation, and to
deliver the British demands. Had I half a brain and a clear view into the
future, I would have resigned my commission as a British officer and helped
the French.
Craik: Tell me
about your convalescence.
Washington:
During that winter, I was tended to by an angel.
Craik: You were
delusional?
Washington: No,
only desperately appreciative. A young woman came to my side every day to
bring me broth and smiles. Her name was Sally Fairfax, the wife of my
neighbor and friend. I would not be able to tell you how long I cared deeply
for Sally. We later wrote to each other and, fearing discovery, we sent our
letters to a third party to avoid being compromised. I was a grown man acting
like a confused puppy.
Craik: From a
purely medicinal point of view, I’d say you were giving your mind and body
the tonic it needed. I suppose you managed to cut this off before you met
Martha.
Washington: It
was cut off not by us but by the vagaries of fate. Today, Sally may be out of
reach but never out of my thoughts. She and her husband, George William
Fairfax moved to England.
George Washington
wrote to Sally again long after her husband died and close to his own death.
He wrote in 1798 about the earthshaking events and changes that had occurred
since he saw her last in 1773. “None of {these} events, however, or all of
them together, have been able to eradicate from my mind, the recollection of
those happy moments, the happiest in my life, which I have enjoyed in your
company.”
Undoubtedly, one of
his most personal sorrows was Washington’s inability to have a child with his
wife Martha. As the historian W.S. Randall puts it, “He was content with
Martha, but mystified why, year after year, he and Martha could produce no
Washington heir.” In his article, George and Martha Washington’s inability to
have children is discussed, and it is suggested that George was the likely
source of the couple’s infertility.
|
No comments:
Post a Comment