I felt then and feel now that one of Adams’s criticisms of the General might be partially justified. Adams is reported to have derided the General as a “great actor.” Even to me, who saw the General up close, it was hard to tell how much of him was real and how much was a carefully constructed persona. Did the legend create him or did he create the legend? Then again, does it really make a difference if one acts virtuously, cultivates virtuousness, or is really virtuous? Does it matter if a general acts with courage and discipline in battle or if he is really disciplined and courageous? And if the outcome is the same, what is the difference?
Abigail Adams was another matter. The General charmed her, as he did all the ladies, and was in turn charmed. “Josiah,” said the General, “John Adams thinks he knows more about military matters than anybody in the army, but he knows far less of such matters than his wife.” He repeated the line to others, leading me to believe that he wanted his opinion to get back to both Mr. and Mrs. Adams.
Then again, it got back to the General that Abigail had written a friend that the General “has a dignity which forbids familiarity: an easy affability which creates love and reverence. He is a temple built by hands divine.” I don’t doubt she wrote that. Mrs. Adams came out of one meeting with the General, turned to me, and said, “The General is a singular example of modesty and diffidence whose dignity and majesty surpasses any European king.” The General could do that to people.
Even Mrs. Adams’s admiration, however, was mixed with trepidation. Once she told me that “if he was really not one of the best intentioned men in the world, he might be a very dangerous one.” Those words floated through my mind that week in Newburgh.
The General’s views on Patrick Henry were surprising. Most seem to think that the General was put off by Henry’s radicalism. But this was not the case. Of course, perhaps we should not consider Henry a Founding Father since he opposed the Constitution under which we have prospered, but then so did James Monroe and many other heroes of the Revolution. (Still others, like Jefferson, had trouble making up their minds.) The General admired Henry’s courage, not only for speaking out so early against British rule but for his willingness in the House of Burgesses to argue for expulsion of a previously respected member accused of taking a bribe.
The General also admired Henry for what he did afterward as governor of Virginia. “Josiah, to oppose repudiation of the debt and back levying taxes to support the war—that took courage.” The General appreciated that Henry, a great orator, backed the war with more than words. He had led a campaign in 1776 to raise funds for blankets that kept large parts of the army from freezing to death.
The General and Henry were actually a mutual admiration society. Perhaps that was because their skills complemented each other. The General was in awe of Henry’s oratorical abilities. I am sure the General was not the first one to say of Henry, “Josiah, he speaks like Homer writes.” After all, the General, while he occasionally uttered fine phrases, on big occasions often stammered. Henry, who realized the General’s lack of formal literary training, went out of his way to praise the General’s other attributes. He has “the charisma of competence,” Henry said. Henry was quite ready to praise the oratory skills of his colleagues at the Continental Congress, but he was quick to say, “If you speak of solid information and sound judgment, Colonel Washington is the greatest man on the floor.”
We all knew that these two Virginia governors, Henry and Jefferson, hated each other during the war. The General thought it had something to do with Henry’s more outward manifestation of his religious views, but he stayed out of that feud despite entreaties from friends. The General was very careful to husband his resources for the struggle against the British.
Another nonsupporter of the Constitution whom Washington admired was Thomas Paine. During the bleak fall of 1776, when all seemed lost as the army stumbled in retreat across New Jersey and thousands pledged loyalty to the king, Paine had published Common Sense. It was indeed a “time that tried men’s souls.” When some of our fair-weather friends in Congress and the military were sniping at the General, Paine remained a stalwart supporter. The General bought up hundreds of copies of Common Sense and distributed them among the troops.
The General and Paine shared an interest in science. One aide told me they had boated down a New Jersey river at night studying the emission of gases. Later, to the General’s pleasant surprise, Paine had helped draft petitions by officers to the Congress for back pay. I understand that after 1789, when the General became president, Paine turned on him. Paine got himself thrown in jail over in Paris during the French Revolution, and the General—at least in Paine’s opinion—did too little to help secure his freedom.
The two men the General most admired were his neighbor George Mason and the Marquis de Lafayette. I got the impression that Mason, several years older than the General, was a mentor—certainly the General made clear his opinion that Mason had the greatest political mind in the colonies. They did not correspond much, but an aide from Virginia told me that, before the war, the General did not make a speech or advance a motion in the House of Burgesses without Mason’s guidance. (The General’s deference to Mason came through in a rather paradoxical way to me. The General, with some pride, told me more than once that he had designed the expansion of Mount Vernon himself while his great neighbor had hired an architect.) The General was always interested in hearing news of what Mason was saying and thinking. After the war was a different story. Mason also opposed the Constitution and, while such opposition did not hinder the General’s relations with others, this apparently cooled their friendship, perhaps because of their previous intimate political association.