The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [348]
There had been talk of receptions and balls in his honor, but he would not be detained, that once his resignation had been accepted as official, he had one priority, one destination in his mind.
The horse responded to his every command, carried him in a steady trot through the lush green hills, across the quiet streams and bare wintry trees. He fought the urge to push the animal harder, to make the journey quicker, and the horse seemed to know, brought him along in a steady hard gait on the roads so familiar now. With a hard leap in his chest, he turned the horse up the long drive toward Mount Vernon, studied the grounds through teary eyes, the gardens, the fields, all the precious lands that had missed his caring hand. It would be his again, the very soil beneath him would feel his touch, the house itself would know his strength. He rode up close to the rear entryway, glanced out past the house to the stunning vista of the Potomac, more beautiful now than he had ever remembered. He stopped the horse, sat for a long moment. His mind was already racing forward, all the tasks, the wonderful joy of the work, but his thoughts were halted by the slow motion of the door. He saw her now, the small woman dwarfed by the tall entryway, and she made a small cry, put a hand to her mouth, stepped out onto the porch. He climbed down from the horse, and in one quick sweep was up the short steps, had her firmly in his arms. He could feel her strength again, felt her energy filling him. He had wanted to say so much, tell her of all his plans for the house, the land, so much they would share now, all the sacrifice behind them. She held him tightly still, small soft sounds, and he felt his energy slip away, a broad smile opening up inside of him. Of course, it can wait. There will be time, after all. And, it is Christmas Eve.
AFTERWORD
CHARLES, EARL CORNWALLIS
It may be doubted whether so small a number of men ever employed so short a space of time with greater and more lasting effects upon the history of the world.
—BRITISH HISTORIAN GEORGE TREVELYAN,
ON WASHINGTON’S VICTORY AT TRENTON
I shall never rest my head on my pillow in peace and quiet as long as I remember the loss of my American colonies.
—KING GEORGE III
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
He freed men by enlightening them.
—COMTESSE D’HOUDETOT, 1781
He becomes the central figure in the tedious and diplomatically sensitive negotiations with the British for the peace treaty that will officially end the war. Suffering from weakening vision, he confronts the challenges of his new task by fashioning a combination of reading glasses and an aid to distant vision, thus, he invents bifocals.
Suffering from the continuing effects of the gout that has plagued him for so long, and weakening from both age and the strain of the work he must perform, he requests that congress release him from his official responsibilities. He leaves France in July 1785. During his work with the peace treaty, he is stricken by the first symptoms of a bladder stone, the misery of which ends most of his social appearances. Thus the rumors of his lechery and sexual conquests of young French maids is made even more ridiculous. Observing that his critics, including John Adams, seem to assume the worst because of the attention he draws from Frenchwomen, he writes:
This is the civilest nation on earth. . . . Somebody, it seems, gave it out that I loved ladies; and then everybody presented me their ladies (or the ladies presented themselves) to be embraced; that is, have their necks kissed. For as to the kissing of lips or cheeks it is not the mode here; the first is reckoned rude, and