Being George Washington (34 page)
Those who stood around Washington in the dimly lit room could not help but admire his courage. He was in excruciating pain, but never complained. He did not sob or cry out in anguish. He lay silently, seemingly at peace with his suffering—and the life he’d led.
Dr. Craik asked him to sit up in the bed. “I feel myself going,” Washington replied. “You had better not take any more trouble about me. Let me go off quietly; I cannot last long.”
Everyone filed out of the room to leave the general alone for a bit, but Dr. Craik remained and took his friend’s hand. Washington looked him in the eyes and mustered a hint of a smile. “Doctor,” he said, “I die hard, but I am not afraid to go.”
Craik squeezed Washington’s hand but could not find the right words to say, so he said nothing. He left the bedroom and joined the others by the fire, his grief overwhelming him.
An hour later, Tobias Lear stood next to Washington, holding his hand. With great effort, the general relayed precise instructions on how he wanted his body to be handled. “Do you understand me?” he asked after he had finished. “Yes, sir,” Lear replied.
Washington squeezed his secretary’s hand for the last time. “’Tis well.”
Washington let go of Lear’s hand and checked his own weakening pulse. Then he closed his eyes, folded his arms across his chest, and exhaled one final time.
The father of his country had finally returned to his Father in heaven.
I was but the humble agent of favoring Heaven, whose benign interference was so often manifested in our behalf, and to whom the praise of victory alone is due.
—GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1789
A
fter the Revolutionary War ended a newspaper published an account of a British soldier leaving his ship to retrieve some personal items that he had left in New York City:
“This is a strange scene indeed! Here, in this city, we have had an army for more than seven years, and yet could not keep the peace of it…. Now [that] we are gone, everything is in quietness and safety. The Americans are a curious, original people. They know how to govern themselves, but nobody else can govern them.”
It’s difficult to comprehend just how radical the idea of self-governance was to the average person in the eighteenth century. (Actually, if you look around the world, at places like North Africa or the Middle East—or Berkeley, California—it’s still a radical idea.) To most people back then, the notion that man didn’t need titles or authority to be successful was alien. The idea that God, not man, bequeathed a person liberty and the right to pursue happiness in any way he saw fit—so long as the rights of others are not infringed—was utterly absurd.
The Founders’ generation glorified self-rule, not government service. They trusted that people could take care of themselves outside of government. And, of course, they were right.
You only have to read basic history (or watch politics in Washington,
D.C.) to understand how rare acts of selflessness are among political leaders. How many consequential people in history have exhibited the character—or the willpower—to relinquish the perks of power and fame when they were there for the taking?
Giving Up (Power) Is Hard to Do
When I left my cable news show to embark on a new risky venture, a lot of people thought I was crazy. Or, I should say, a lot of people thought I was even crazier than they did before. Walking away from a prestigious position with that kind of platform was not easy, so I can only imagine how hard it is for people with real power to surrender it.
But that’s also the problem with a lifetime of government work. People are too comfortable. Think of how many famous entrepreneurs have left the coziness of big companies or top schools to start something new and “crazy.” Taking risks is part of life. It’s the only way to spark real innovation. But government is risk-averse. It doesn’t allow for innovation or critical thinking. And we have too many smart people turning into complacent bureaucrats.
Some people think that Alexander Hamilton was the brains behind Washington’s Farewell Address and Washington merely rubber-stamped it.
Not true.
Washington put an amazing amount of thought into his farewell.
He asked Madison to compose its first draft back in 1792. Then, in 1796, Hamilton and John Jay took a look at Madison’s version. At one point Washington provided Hamilton with these instructions: “My wish is that the whole may appear in a plain style, and be handed to the public in an honest, unaffected, simple part.”
Later, Hamilton provided Washington with two drafts. One was a very simple edit of the Madison version. The second draft was much more involved but basically retold the same content in different form. Washington preferred Hamilton’s second version “greatly to the other
draughts, being more copious on material points, more dignified on the whole, and with less egotism; of course, less exposed to criticism, and better calculated to meet the eye of discerning readers (foreigners particularly, whose curiosity I have little doubt will lead them to inspect it attentively, and to pronounce their opinions on the performance).”
Then Washington polished it some more. He had three cabinet members—Secretary of State Timothy Pickering, Secretary of the Treasury Oliver Wolcott Jr., and Secretary of War James McHenry—all review it as well. When they returned their comments, Washington personally went over them line by line before turning a final draft in to the printer.
The process then was very much like Washington’s position as wartime commander in chief. He called in his officers. Got all sides of the issue. Then he alone made the final call.
The Blessing of Self-Sufficiency
George Washington had a very healthy aversion to professional government service. But the flip side to that was his lifelong fondness for self-reliance.
Not only would Washington have scoffed at the idea of using government as a permanent politician job program, but he would have been dismayed at the dependency it has created in the average citizen. More Americans rely on government today than ever before. From obvious programs, like welfare, to less obvious ones, like federal flood insurance and disaster relief, the federal government touches most citizens every year in one way or another.
Not long ago, I got a lot of flak for saying that a hurricane was a blessing in disguise because it was a reminder that bad things can happen, that we need to be prepared and rely on ourselves and our communities rather than wait for FEMA trucks to roll in. We can be charitable, help our neighbors, and rally around community. One day that FEMA truck may not be there—then what?
George Washington set a great example for self-sufficiency (after all, he had no choice). There was no government to rush in. But if he were alive today, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t sit around after a natural disaster and wait for some bureaucrat to send in food and water.
Washington’s Farewell Address, despite being called an “address,” was never given as an actual speech. It was dated September 17, 1796 (the ninth anniversary of the signing of the Constitution), and initially printed in Philadelphia’s
American Daily Advertiser
. Soon after that it appeared in numerous other newspapers across the country.
Washington, modest as ever, began by offering his words to his countrymen as the parting counsel of “an old and affectionate friend.” He then unequivocally announced that he would not be considered for a third term in the presidency.
I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future interest, no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness; but am supported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both.
Always treating his fellow citizens as equals, Washington then mentioned his desire to leave people with some farewell counsel, hoping they would receive it as “the disinterested warnings of a parting friend.”
The union of the states was vitally important, he reminded them, cautioning that there were those who would seek “to weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth.” Americans must therefore watch “for its preservation with jealous anxiety, discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can in any event be abandoned, and indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our country from the rest.”
Washington had basically just summed up the future of partisanship: lobbyists, biased media, fearmongering “think tanks,” and the divisive political environment that plagues our nation today.
He then went on to strike a note of unity. Though different regions of the country often had different needs and interests, he explained, our diversity was our strength. “Your Union ought to be considered as a main prop of your liberty, and … the love of the one ought to endear to you the preservation of the other.”
The primary support of the Union, other than the people’s commitment to liberty, he explained, was the Constitution. “Toward the preservation of your government and the permanency of your present happy state,” he wrote, “it is requisite, not only that you steadily discountenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles, however specious the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect in the forms of the Constitution alterations which will impair the energy of the system, and thus to undermine what cannot be directly over-thrown.”
Wow. I know the language doesn’t necessary flow off the tongue, but read that two or three times. He is clearly talking about the idea that people would eventually make the case that the Constitution is outdated and can be improved. Their goal is to simply water down the document through constant “innovations.” Is there any better way to summarize what is happening right now? We constantly hear that original intent is irrelevant and that we need a “living document.” Of course, if any of the people proposing such a thing took the time to read Washington’s farewell then they’d realize that he called them out hundreds of years before they were even born.
No Good-bye to the Farewell
The U.S. Senate retains at least one tradition that has nothing to do with putting its hands into our pockets. Once a year, on Washington’s Birthday (as opposed to “Presidents’ Day”), a member of the Senate reads Washington’s Farewell Address aloud.
This tradition has been going on since 1862, and its history involves a future president. In that Civil War year, Tennessee’s U.S. senator Andrew Johnson proposed that “in view of the perilous condition of the country, I think the time has arrived when we should recur back to the days, the times, and the doings of Washington and the patriots of the Revolution, who founded the government under which we live.”
Since 1893 members of the Republican and Democratic parties have
alternated each year in reading the Farewell Address in the Senate chamber. On finishing, that person then inscribes his or her name into a black, leather-bound book maintained for that purpose and adds brief comments.
In 1956, it was Minnesota’s Hubert Humphrey’s turn. “It gives one a renewed sense of pride in our republic,” wrote the future vice president. “It arouses the wholesome and creative emotions of patriotism and love of country.”
Given how clear Washington was about the need to protect the underlying principles of the Constitution, it makes sense that he then took a good amount of time going through almost each tenet of the document.
1. The Constitution recognizes the existence of natural law. In the Declaration of Independence Thomas Jefferson referred to “the laws of Nature and of Nature’s God.” Natural law recognizes the existence of God and acknowledges that God established a natural order of things for this earth and the people of this earth.
2. Over and over, Washington made sure to credit God for the success of the revolution. Liberty for man
was
the natural order of things. Washington lived this credo, as we’ve seen—as a general, as a president, and as a person. It didn’t matter who the officeholders were as long as they followed the Constitution. As he reaffirmed in his Farewell Address, we are governed by God and by the Constitution, not by men.
For the Constitution to work, the citizens of a republic must be virtuous and moral. Benjamin Franklin once wrote, “Only a virtuous people are capable of freedom. As nations become corrupt and vicious, they have more need of masters.” Who tried to live their lives more virtuously than Washington? Who acted more bravely and
more nobly than the nation’s first general and statesman? Who more vigorously applied a code of decent behavior and morality in his personal life than our first president?
Washington strongly believed in the need for morality and virtue among all Americans. He wrote to Lafayette that America’s constitutional government would only protect us “so long as there shall remain any virtue in the body of the people.” And, in his Farewell Address, he emphasized it again. “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity,” he wrote, “religion and morality are indispensable supports.”
Washington himself set the finest possible example of that.
Do Sweat the Small Stuff
Modern voters—and especially the media—always ask if presidential candidates have the required “gravitas” (the Roman virtue of seriousness or dignity) for the position. Washington certainly didn’t need any help in that department. He understood that paying attention to the details, the discipline of everyday life, was necessary if one was going to do the right thing when the big decisions came along. It seems simple, but it’s something that contemporary politicians can’t seem to figure out.
Washington, of course, wasn’t born with these attributes. God might have put him in the right place at the right time, but he taught himself these virtues at a young age. Sometimes I wonder how my childhood might have been different if I had had the discipline to live the Rules of Civility growing up. It seems impossible to imagine Washington falling into a life of drinking or blowing his money on material possessions when his biggest concern was sitting up straight or crossing his legs in public.
The Rules of Civility let Washington display poise in the small moments and thus gravitas in the big ones. He applied these prescriptions to everyday life and they became second nature. The lesson for us is that leadership and vision don’t exist in a vacuum—or spring to life all at once. They must be practiced, and they can grow within you until they become a part of you.
