as now,” she confided to a friend.
Long after the war, the historic image of Martha as a dowdy, genteel grandmother comforted populations craving a benevolent and benign parental figure, but to the Revolutionary War general, she was a vital source of quiet power, empathy, practical wisdom, and stamina. “Not enough historians have recognized the importance of this portly, affable woman in George Washington’s life,” notes Thomas Fleming in Washington’s Secret War: The Hidden History of Valley Forge. Her stalwart dedication to the cause in general — and to his well-being in particular — provided a crucial boost to the entire army’s morale. As one admiring Frenchman put it, “She well deserved to be the companion and friend of the greatest man of the age.”
These days it’s common, and considered understandable, for couples to divorce under the pressure of losing a child or going off to war. What allowed George and Martha to face a relentless series of tragedies and continually jump back into the fray, together, literally betting the farm and their very lives on the slimmest possible chance for success — even when the vast majority of people around them were complacently standing by or unabashedly profiting from human misery?
We’ll never really know enough about their relationship to answer that question definitively. Honoring her husband’s request, Martha destroyed the vast majority of George’s letters to her after his death, suggesting their correspondence revealed some painful, potentially embarrassing material, perhaps some rants and moments of indecision that could be taken out of context. But oh how valuable that information would have been in understanding the interpersonal difficulties they faced, the mistakes they made, and the complex emotional challenges they surmounted. For the eighteenth century, George’s reliance on his wife as a confidant was unusual. Equally noteworthy was Martha’s own leadership experience.
Even by modern standards, the couple exhibited an unusually high level of mutual respect and teamwork. Certain commonalities in personality and background suggest this was no accident: Neither George nor Martha went to college, yet both continually educated themselves. Both also possessed a strong work ethic as they managed the intricacies of several plantations together. An affluent, attractive widow at twenty-seven, Martha Dandridge Custis had clearly been a catch for ambitious young Colonel Washington when they’d married in 1759, but she was no dilettante. Her first husband had died two years earlier, leaving her in charge of a large working agricultural estate. A biographical sketch of her by the National First Ladies’ Library reveals that “evidence of her business acumen in the lucrative tobacco trade is found in letters she wrote to the London merchants who handled the exporting of the large Custis crop output.” Though Martha had been trained at home in music, sewing, and household management, the knowledge she later acquired in plantation management, homeopathic medicine, and animal husbandry “suggests a wider education than previously thought.”
When she joined forces with her second husband, Washington, the responsibilities grew, exponentially. “With her extremely large inheritance of land from the Custis estate and the vast farming enterprise at Mount Vernon, Martha Washington spent considerable time directing the large staff of slaves and servants. While George Washington oversaw all financial transactions related to the plantation, Martha Washington was responsible for the not insubstantial process of harvesting, preparing, and preserving herbs, vegetables, fruits, meats, and dairy for medicines, household products and foods needed for those who lived at Mount Vernon, relatives, slaves and servants — as well as long-staying visitors.”
So while Valley Forge was certainly no vacation, Martha’s own sense of responsibility, her tenacity, and her problem-solving skills were already well established. “I never in my life knew a woman so busy from early morning until late at night as was Lady Washington,” one wartime observer wrote, noting that she organized “the wives of the officers in camp, and sometimes other women” in offering various forms of assistance. (The extreme conditions at Valley Forge were endured that winter by more than five hundred women, mostly wives and sisters of the soldiers. Prostitutes were less common than most people suspect — an army lacking funds for food and clothing deferred salaries as well; hence no discretionary funds for extracurricular activities.)
A coddled, dominated woman could never have provided the fearless companionship and flexible, good-natured, activism on demand that Martha showed at Valley Forge. A spicy mistress could have relieved a bit of tension, but a man in Washington’s increasingly tenuous position needed his own advanced emotional support system, someone with the nerve to face the truth of a situation while remaining centered enough to help him explore all the options, someone who was more concerned with the long-term, greater good of a project than with revenge, comfort, or obsessive social climbing. Martha’s significant wealth and business experience were also balanced by humility and devotion. As the marquis de Lafayette revealed, she was a “modest and respectable” woman, who loved her husband “madly.” That combination ensured she would travel to the ends of the earth for her heroic mate — as an asset, not a clingy, fawning fan.
Authentic Power
Historians often marvel that, despite ultimate victory in the American Revolution, Washington actually lost more battles than he won. In His Excellency, Ellis contends that “especially in the early stages of the war” the general’s “defeats were frequently a function of his overconfident and aggressive personality.” Close associates reported that they could feel him wrestling with strong emotions, a battle he sometimes lost in private displays of anger and frustration, suggesting that his legendary composure and patience were hard won.
Experts also agree that Washington had a rare talent for learning from his mistakes. When something went wrong, he didn’t waste a lot of time and energy defending himself. According to Chernow, he “never walled himself off from contrary opinion or tried to force his views on his generals.” He analyzed the situation, researched new options, and revised his approach, sometimes modifying his own beliefs, even altering long-entrenched personal habits that had been clearly beneficial in previous contexts. In this respect, his horse-training experience gave him a palpable edge. Throughout his life, Washington continued to refine his own potent instincts as deftly and methodically as he schooled the most volatile of stallions.
In Dressage in the Fourth Dimension, horse trainer Sherry Ackerman emphasizes that when both horse and rider exhibit self-mastery and responsiveness, their combined genius becomes fluid and adaptable. Even standing still, an expertly trained mount radiates power and suppleness as “the halt, in immobility, contains the energy of every movement. The horse is catlike, ready to spring from soft-jointed hindquarters through his coiled loins. As long as we do not disturb the collection, he remains prepared — powerfully positioned — for instantaneous movement in any direction, at any gait.”
Collection is an important term in the equestrian arts. Technically, it means the horse is channeling his strength in an optimal way, not splaying his energy outward in a compulsive, uncoordinated fashion. When his neck is arched and his rear legs are positioned well under his body, his center of gravity moves toward the hindquarters, rounding and releasing his spine, allowing him to collect his power: to compress it like a metal spring, hold it, gather it, focus it, and release it purposefully. From this position, he can just as easily rear, move sideways, leap forward into a vigorous gallop, or quietly, artfully step backward.
In nature, a stallion wooing a mare will collect his energy to engage in dancelike movements that would be impossible to perform if he let his passion run wild. A well-educated saddle horse further develops this ability, combining increasing control of his own body and emotions with a finely tuned awareness of the rider’s intentions, interpreting subtle weight shifts as meaningful communication. Serious equestrians uphold their end of the bargain by developing an “independent seat,” meaning they’re able to balance on a moving horse no matter what he does, directing that force toward a specific goal while continually adjusting to unexpected movements — without pulling on the reins, gripping with their legs, or hanging on to the saddle for support. Under the tutelage of a great trainer,
