I would not desire in the least degree to suppress a free spirit of inquiry into any part of my conduct, that even faction itself may deem reprehensible.  The anonymous paper handed to you exhibits many serious charges, and it is my wish that it should be submitted to Congress.  This I am the more inclined to the suppression or concealment may possibly involve you in embarrassments hereafter, since it is uncertain how many or who may be privy to the contents.

My enemies take an ungenerous advantage of me.  They know the delicacy of my situation, and that motives of policy deprive me of the defence, I might otherwise make against their insidious attacks.  They know I cannot combat their insinuations, however injurious, without disclosing secrets, which it is of the utmost moment to conceal.  But why should I expect to be exempt from censure, the unfailing lot of an elevated station?  Merit and talents, with which I can have no pretensions of rivalship, have ever been subject to it.  My heart tells me, that it has been my unremitted aim to do the best that circumstances would permit; yet I may have been very often mistaken in my judgment of the means, and may in many instances deserve the imputation of error. (Valley Forge, 31 January, 1778.)[1]

[Footnote 1:  Ford, vi, 353.]

Such was the sort of explanation which was wrung from the Silent Man when he explained to an intimate the secrets of his heart.

To estimate the harassing burden of these plots we must bear in mind that, while Washington had to suffer them in silence, he had also to deal every day with the Congress and with an army which, at Valley Forge, was dying slowly of cold and starvation.  There was literally no direction from which he could expect help; he must hold out as long as he could and keep from the dwindling, disabled army the fact that some day they would wake up to learn that the last crumb had been eaten and that death only remained for them.  On one occasion, after he had visited Philadelphia and had seen the Congress in action, he unbosomed himself about it in a letter which contained these terrible words: 

If I was to be called upon to draw a picture of the times and of men, from what I have seen, and heard, and in part know, I should in one word say that idleness, dissipation and extravagance seems to have laid fast hold of most of them.  That speculation—­peculation—­and an insatiable thirst for riches seems to have got the better of every other consideration and almost of every order of men.  That party disputes and personal quarrels are the great business of the day whilst the momentous concerns of an empire—­a great and accumulated debt—­ruined finances—­depreciated money—­and want of credit (which in their consequences is the want of everything) are but secondary considerations, and postponed from day to day—­from week to week as if our affairs wear the most-promising aspect.