Washington [515]
It was a typically shrewd response from Washington, who offered qualified support to Law while privately gathering more information about him. He confronted Elizabeth gingerly, saying that she had “more honesty than disguise” in her nature and should disclose more details of her engagement: “This I have a right to expect in return for my blessing so promptly bestowed, after you had concealed the matter from me so long.”49 Wary of Law’s motives, Washington wrote on the sly to Elizabeth’s stepfather, David Stuart, suggesting a strong prenuptial agreement that would have Law “make a settlement upon her previous to marriage, of her own fortune, if no more.”50 When the couple married in Virginia the next month, the wedding was conducted in a studiously low-key style, devoid of dancing or festivities, as if the family had no wish to invest in premature celebration. The marriage proved a misalliance, and the couple separated in 1803.
Elizabeth’s petulant nature threw into shining relief the sterling qualities of her vivacious sister Nelly, who was so varied in her interests, including horseback riding, singing, playing the harpsichord, studying French, and drawing. One smitten male visitor marveled that she “has more perfection of form of expression, of color, of softness, and of firmness of mind than I have ever seen before.”51 With keen wit she skewered her enraptured male admirers. When she heard false rumors that she was romantically involved with one young man, she admitted that he had pleasing manners but had “been told too often of his merit and accomplishments, and it has given him more affectation than is by any means agreeable.”52 She mocked another young man for his pseudoromantic babble about “hearts, darts, hopes, fears, heart-aches ” and other terms related to the “tender passion.”53 With such merciless comments, Nelly murdered the hopes of many young suitors, and it seemed unlikely she would marry anytime soon.
Martha sometimes found Nelly a little unconventional for her tastes, but the president adored her. Far more trying was his relationship with George Washington Parke Custis, who recapitulated his father’s history of academic apathy. He had grown into a handsome teenager, crowned with curly hair, a broad face, and large, attractive eyes. When Washy entered Princeton in the autumn of 1796—the president thought the school had “turned out better scholars” and “more estimable characters” than any other—the president didn’t know whether he would adjust to the academic rigors or loaf his way through.54 As with Jacky, Washington smothered the young man with advice, warning him against idle amusements, dissipated company, and hasty friendships. Trying to instill his own prudent habits, he told him to “select the most deserving only for your friendships, and, before this becomes intimate, weigh their dispositions and character well.”55 Washington’s vague bromides about Washy becoming a scholar and a useful member of society seemed like so much wishful thinking.
Within six months of Washy’s arrival at Princeton, Washington was confronted by disturbing reports from the boy’s tutor. “From his infancy, I have discovered an almost unconquerable disposition to indolence,” Washington informed the professor in words that echoed his chronic dismay with Jacky Custis.56 Like Jacky, Washy apologized profusely for his misdemeanors and promised to reform. He assured Washington that “like the prodigal son,” he would be “a sincere penitent,” but such noble intentions lasted only as long as it took the ink to dry.57 However good-natured and ingratiating in his letters, Washy was, at bottom, feckless and incorrigible. He would say all the right things,