Being George Washington (26 page)
It was all about character, trust, and honor—three words that most current-day elites scoff at, but three of Washington’s traits that likely saved America.
A year after the Newburgh crisis, Thomas Jefferson recognized Washington’s accomplishment: “The moderation and virtue of a single character have probably prevented this revolution from being closed, as most others have been, by a subversion of that liberty it was intended to establish.”
It wasn’t Washington’s military expertise that saved the day. It wasn’t his oratory skills or his powers of persuasion. It wasn’t the height of his stature, the enormously important political connections that he held, nor his elevated social status.
It was his soft-spoken meekness, his deep humility in a moment of utter crisis, and the trust and respect he’d garnered from his colleagues over the years that saved the country.
Angry George
Given Washington’s famously humble speeches and subdued nature it’s surprising to learn that he was once known for his hotheadedness and sudden temper.
“I wish I could say that he governs his temper,” Lord Fairfax wrote to Mary Ball Washington about the sixteen-year-old Washington. “He is subject to attacks of anger on provocation, sometimes without just cause.”
Gilbert Stuart, a man who knew Washington well, and who painted his official portrait, said of him, “Had he been born in the forests, he would have been the fiercest among savage tribes.”
Yes, life as a surveyor on the unforgiving frontier was very difficult. It was demanding and hostile, with danger and deprivation at every turn. It demanded a decisive and sometimes authoritarian approach in order to survive. But Washington recognized that this didn’t change the fact that his hot temper was a weakness. Whether he was on the frontier or engaged in mortal combat against the redcoats, an explosive temper detracted from his ability to accomplish his goals. It was a deficiency in his personality that would not serve him if he didn’t rise above it.
Perhaps there is no better example of Washington having the self-discipline to conquer his own weakness than the fact that he grew from a hot-tempered young man into a powerful leader who had the humility to be open and honest before his men.
There is a lesson in that for all of us.
Everything that we do in life—every battle that we fight and every mountain that we climb, no matter how many times that we may fall—may be for no other purpose than to prepare us for that moment when we are called upon to make a difference in this world.
In fact, every decision that we make, even those that seem small and perhaps irrelevant—perhaps
especially
those that seem small and irrelevant—may be moving us toward that moment when we can change a life for the better.
We may only get one chance to make a difference. But there is no doubt that such a moment in each of our lives is going to come.
The only question that really matters is, Will we be ready for it?
Prior to taking command of the army in 1775, Washington expressed his great reluctance and deep humility regarding his ability to lead his men through the storms that lay ahead. He expressed these reservations on more than one occasion. But, unlike so many of today’s leaders, once he had accepted a challenge, he rose above it. He conquered it. He
did whatever it took to see that his nation and his people prevailed. He didn’t bemoan the difficult circumstances he had inherited. He didn’t blame his army’s early failures on his subordinates (though there were many times that he could have). He didn’t blame his battlefield failures on the tides of misfortune, constantly pointing out all the elements that were beyond his control. And he didn’t indulge his pride after his victories; never crowing over his conquests at Boston, Trenton, Yorktown.
What Washington
did
do was accept the responsibility he had been given, beg the grace of God upon himself and his army, and then work relentlessly to accomplish his goals. What he
did
do was to keep on working, regardless of the personal sacrifices required or the setbacks that he encountered. He kept the faith, no matter who stood against him; regardless of the gossip, the naysayers and, sometimes, regardless even of the betrayal of his friends.
It wasn’t easy. In every moment there was a hill to climb, in every day a sacrifice to make, in every trial a challenge that racked his soul. Had he known how very difficult it would prove to be, he might not have taken on the task. As he had confessed to a close aide, “Could I have foreseen … no consideration upon earth should have induced me to accept this command.”
But he did accept it. And he won.
What If He Had Been King?
The monarchies that held so much control around the world hated the idea that the American people might claim a list of rights. I mean, come on, kings were divinely appointed leaders! Their absolute rule might not be the will of the people, but it certainly was the will of God.
That being the case, the royal monarchs had to be thinking, How dare the Americans mess around with thousands of years of tradition! Surely they would fail. Without the royal intellect, without the benefit of the elites and all the lessons in good governance that they had learned, without the superiority of a hereditary royalty and nobility lording over the lowly, and, most important, without the will of God behind their form of government, how could they possibly succeed?
All of that aside, it may be interesting to ask the question: what if?
What if the enormously popular and powerful Washington had decided that, why yes, as a matter of a fact, I
would
like to be the king?
Had Washington taken to the throne, who would now be our king?
Assuming the royal “House of Washington” had been able to survive all the commotion of the next 230 years (revolutions, depressions, upheavals, and world wars), the crown would likely now sit upon the head of one Paul Emery Washington, who retired after forty years as a business supply manager in Valley Forge.
According to NBC News, the royal Paul (George’s third-great-grandnephew) seems to have taken the fact that he was robbed of his royal throne fairly well. Recently asked about the possibility of the monarchy that was denied him when his great-great-great-(whatever)-uncle refused the kingship, he answered simply, “I think George made the right decision.”
All of us face moments in our lives when we’re fighting for something we believe in but begin to realize that our position is far from perfect. Those who don’t face those kinds of assessments will never be great leaders because they can’t see any other way but theirs. If we are seeking truth then we must follow it, wherever it leads us—even if that is to a place we never thought we’d go.
For George Washington, the Newburgh Conspiracy brought to life some truths that he probably would’ve rather not had to deal with. Despite his efforts to assure his troops that Congress was filled with honorable men who were loyal to their nation and who would eventually see that justice to the army was done, the experience must have made him acutely aware of the potentially fatal weakness of a loosely aligned group of states. After all, they barely had the power to protect themselves from each other, let alone from foreign armies.
Though he accepted his reprimand, Colonel Nicola’s harsh words regarding the frailty of the confederation (and gentle suggestion that a monarchy be considered) must have had an effect on Washington. Not
only did he see the hopeless reality of the situation, but he’d experienced it firsthand in, for example, Valley Forge. A national government that didn’t even have the power to procure supplies for an army was not nearly strong enough to defend a country.
And things didn’t get any better from there.
Washington’s Forgotten Second Message at Newburgh
Washington didn’t just confront his officers at Newburgh. He also confronted Congress.
In June 1783 (just a few weeks after his showdown with his officers), he took pen in hand to warn Congress that a strong union was necessary to preserve our liberties—and he also warned how “anarchy” could lead to “Tyranny” (sounds like Cloward-Piven!). He ended by saying:
It is only in our united Character as an Empire, that our Independence is acknowledged, that our power can be regarded, or our Credit supported among Foreign Nations. The Treaties of the European Powers with the United States of America, will have no validity on a dissolution of the Union. We shall be left nearly in a state of Nature, or we may find by our own unhappy experience, that there is a natural and necessary progression, from the extreme of anarchy to the extreme of Tyranny; and that arbitrary power is most easily established on the ruins of Liberty abused to licentiousness.
Under the Articles of Confederation, the states were never able to rise above a collection of half-starved and wilted governments that were directionless and seemingly incapable of providing even the most basic needs of their citizens. Within a few years of defeating the British, the states were in constant conflict with each other. Trade wars. Competing currencies. Bitter disputes over territories. Jealousy. Rivalries between northern and southern states and cultures. Power struggles between the large states and the small.
The states were on the edge of anarchy. And no one understood the danger more than George Washington. Having suffered through the
extremely frustrating and dangerous experience that he had at Newburgh, he realized more than anyone that the Congress was too weak. They couldn’t govern the states effectively. The confederation was doomed to fail.
It was this realization that led Washington to eventually agree to lead the Constitutional Convention—which, of course, ultimately decided to scrap the Articles of Confederation in favor of a much stronger federal government.
But think about how this might have played if Washington had not been someone who was open to finding the truth no matter where it led him. If he’d been a zealot for the government, a defender of the Articles at all costs, then the Newburgh Conspiracy would never have prompted him to take the actions he did.
The lessons for us today are clear—question with boldness. I know I’m like a broken record, but if you think that your version of the truth is all that exists, then not only will you fail in pursuing your agenda, but you’ll also fail in motivating anyone else to join you. The search for truth is a lifelong quest without a destination. Don’t fall into the trap of believing so deeply in your own ideology that you cannot even see the flaws in it.
One of George Washington’s greatest traits was his understanding that man is not perfect. Imperfect men, he knew, can never create perfect government. Centuries have passed since then, but that fundamental idea has never changed, and it never will. Embrace our imperfection by constantly searching for the truth. You might just be surprised where it leads you.
December 21, 1786
Mount Vernon, Virginia
It was four days before Christmas and Mount Vernon was ready. Large bunches of mistletoe were placed about and sprigs of holly were laid in front of each windowpane. But, despite the holiday cheer, George Washington was in a sour mood.
He sat at his desk wearing a plain blue coat, white cashmere waistcoat, black knee breeches, and black boots. His quill pen was dipped and ready, but the words were difficult to write. He was, of course, honored by the offer he’d been presented, but he simply could not agree to it. It just wasn’t possible.
After a long pause Washington finally began to write, addressing his letter to Virginia’s current governor, Edmund Randolph:
Sir
:
I had not the honor of receiving your Excellency’s favor of the 6th, with its enclosures, till last night. Sensible as I am of the honor conferred on me by the General Assembly, in appointing me one of the Deputies to a Convention proposed to be held in the City of Philadelphia in May next, for the purpose of revising the Federal Constitution; and desirous as I am on all occasions, of testifying a ready obedience to the calls of my Country; yet, Sir, there exists at this moment, circumstances, which I am persuaded
will render my acceptance of this fresh mark of confidence incompatible with other measures which I had previously adopted; and from which, seeing little prospect of disengaging myself, it would be disingenuous not to express a wish that some other character, on whom greater reliance can be had, may be substituted in my place; the probability of my non-attendance being too great to continue my appointment.
Washington put his pen down and read aloud what he’d just written. He could not believe they were his words. Was he really going to turn down an invitation to join the convention?
He knew, of course, the perilous position the country had found itself in. Just six weeks earlier he had written to James Madison that, without a change in course, all the blood and treasure they’d expended in the war would be for nothing. The country, he wrote, was “fast verging to anarchy and confusion!”
But, still, surely there were others from Virginia who could take his place. He had put Martha through so much over the years, it simply wasn’t fair to leave her again. And that wasn’t the only thing giving him pause; it was also his own health: he was experiencing painful rheumatism that was nearly debilitating.