Washington [128]
Washington wanted to show that his motives were spotless, that he was a true gentleman and could be trusted with great power, and the delegates applauded his generosity. As John Adams declared, “There is something charming to me in the conduct of Washington. A gentleman of one of the first fortunes upon the continent, leaving his delicious retirement, his family and friends, sacrificing his ease and hazarding all in the cause of his country.”28 James T. Flexner dismisses the apparent generosity behind Washington’s renunciation of a salary: “Financially, the distinction proved to be only a bookkeeping one, as he received in expenses what he would have received in salary.”29 But Washington’s gesture captured people’s imaginations and confirmed that this revolution was something new under the sun. Even the London newspapers were thunderstruck, one writing that Washington “is to attend to the hazardous duty allotted him from principle only. A most noble example and worthy of imitation in Great Britain.”30
While some of Washington’s humility can be traced to political calculation, it also reflected his frank admission that he lacked the requisite experience to take on the British Empire. It was both a gratifying and a terrifying moment for a man who was such a bundle of confidence and insecurity. Preoccupied, as always, with his sense of personal honor—his calling card as a gentleman—he feared disgrace as well as failure. When he ran into Patrick Henry after his appointment, an emotional Washington seemed full of foreboding. “Remember, Mr. Henry, what I now tell you: from the day I enter upon the command of the American armies, I date my fall, and the ruin of my reputation.”31 Henry said that Washington’s eyes were full of tears—one of many times when, under stress, he betrayed his underlying emotions.
In accepting this appointment, Washington was haunted by the uncertain fate of his wife, who would be left alone and might become the target of British raids. In the wake of Patsy’s death and Jacky’s wedding, Martha Washington was already in a lonely, vulnerable state of mind. To be deprived now of her husband might knock the emotional props from under her. For three days Washington couldn’t bring himself to write to her. Then on June 18 he sat down with trepidation to inform her of his extraordinary appointment:
My Dearest, I am now set down to write to you on a subject which fills me with inexpressible concern and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased when I reflect on the uneasiness I know it will give you . . . You may believe me . . . when I assure you in the most solemn manner that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity . . . it has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service . . . it was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself and given pain to my friends.32
The editors of Washington’s papers note that twenty years earlier Washington had marshaled almost identical arguments in writing to his mother, invoking