Washington [83]
Washington made sure that he returned for dinner precisely at 2:45 P.M. when the first bell sounded for the large midday meal. According to legend, the clatter of his approaching hooves often coincided with the bell’s loud clang. Washington then washed, dressed, powdered his hair, and appeared in the dining room by the stroke of three. He preferred a dinner of fish from the Potomac and typically ate with a hearty appetite. In this heavy-drinking era, he could polish off three or four glasses of an amber-colored wine known as Madeira without being thought a heavy drinker. The cloth was then removed, and Washington would lift his glass with his habitual toast to “All our friends.” He then retired to his library before a light supper. Before going to bed at nine o’clock, he would often read aloud to the family from the newspaper or from sermons on Sunday evenings or join in a game of cards or backgammon.
To maintain a detailed grasp of his vast operations, Washington kept comprehensive records long before such bookkeeping was commonplace. Being a farmer, he scratched out a daily log of the weather, but his record keeping went far beyond such basics. “He also makes copious notes in writing relative to his own experiments, the state of the seasons, nature of soils, effect of different kinds of manure, and everything that can throw light on the farming business,” wrote his later aide David Humphreys.55 Everything was perfectly sorted, classified, and slotted in his compartmentalized mind and books. Washington’s contemporaries recognized that this compulsive note taking, this itch to record his every action, went to the very essence of this well-regulated man. “You would be surprised to find what a uniform life he leads,” wrote John Hancock’s nephew after a visit to Mount Vernon. “Everything he does is by method of system . . . He keeps a journal where he records everything . . . he is a model of the highest perfection.”56
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Prodigy
LONG BEFORE he achieved great fame or renown, something about Washington’s bearing and presence bedazzled people. In common with other well-bred boys of his day, he probably wore a corset as a small child, which pulled his shoulders back and thrust his chest out, giving him added dignity. Like a figure strutting on a stage, he never lounged or slouched and seemed as comfortable in a ballroom as on a battlefield. Properly appareled on all occasions, he never allowed people to see him in a neglected state, much less undressed, and ordered clothes that gave him elegance with freedom of movement. In ordering a suit from London, he admonished his tailor to “make it in the best taste to sit easy and loose, as clothes that are tight always look awkward and are uneasy to the wearer.”1 In the manner of European royalty, he never seemed to hurry. The impression fostered by his imposing physique, joined with his upright, virile carriage and natural aplomb, marked him out as a natural leader.
Much of the power of Washington’s presence derived from his fluid gait, the antithesis of the stiff, wooden image Gilbert Stuart grafted on the American imagination. The quintessential man of action, he moved like a national icon long before he became one. The sculptor William Rush recalled his smooth, unruffled movements: “I have been in battle immediately under his command. I have viewed him walking, standing, sitting. I have seen him at a game of ball for several hours,” and in all these activities he exhibited “the most manly and graceful attitudes I ever saw.”2 Washington was, quite simply, a sight to behold. “So tall, so straight!” one servant remembered. “And . . . with such an air! Ah, sire, he was like no one else!”3 At Williamsburg, he exuded a special splendor with his ceremonial sword riding on his hip, while showing the light, confident tread of the military man. If much of