Being George Washington (35 page)
3. The Constitution acknowledges that the people are the true sovereigns in a republican government. The Founders rejected the notion that a king has a “divine right” to rule. Under natural law, no man has a right to rule over another, unless the subject gives their consent. Alexander Hamilton emphasized this in the
Federalist:
“The fabric of American empire ought to rest on the solid basis of the consent of the people. The streams of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure, original fountain of all legitimate authority.” James Madison added, “The ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone.”
Washington obviously agreed. “The power under the Constitution will always be in the people,” he wrote. And what better way to show the people that he was serious than through his own actions. Washington would not be king. He would not abuse the people’s trust. And certainly he would not overstay his welcome. The presidency demanded virtuous men. God and law would take care of the rest.
4. The Constitution was created on the assumption that America would function under a free-market economy, recognizing and protecting property rights. John Adams wrote: “All men are born free and independent, and have certain natural, essential, and unalienable rights, among which may be reckoned the right of enjoying and defending their lives and liberties; that of acquiring, possessing, and protecting property; in fine, that of seeking and obtaining their safety and happiness.”
The federal government the Constitution created was only a protection from tyranny, not a way of life and certainly not a career. It allowed men to worship freely and to trade freely and peacefully among themselves. It granted the protection of property rights—the hallmark of capitalism—and gave men the right to pursue their own happiness.
It is no wonder that Washington was enthusiastic as he penned his name in large letters at the top of the list of signatures on the Constitution. It is no wonder that even as he left public life he was still teaching us a lesson. And it is no wonder he never took the moniker “His Excellency” to heart.
More Civility
Some of the other Rules of Civility that Washington copied as a young boy:
• “Let your countenance be pleasant, but in serious matters somewhat grave.”
• “Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy.”
• “In writing or speaking, give to every person his due title according to his degree and the custom of the place.”
• “When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it.”
• “Strive not with your superiors in argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty.”
• “Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for ’tis better to be alone than in bad company.”
• “Let your conversation be without malice or envy. And in all causes of passion admit reason to govern.”
• “Undertake not what you cannot perform, but be careful to keep your promise.”
• “When you speak of God and his attributes, let it be seriously and with reverence.”
• “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”
For Washington, holding power was the sacrifice; giving it up was easy. Government was something a citizen took part in as a patriotic duty, not a career. It is sadly ironic, then, that this lesson has been forgotten by nearly everyone who now lives in the city named after him.
Time to Move On
Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii must be the modern-day opposite of Cincinnatus. He has been a senator for nearly forty-nine years.
Washington probably never could have imagined a professional politician. Yet, these days, there is no shortage of them. Put it this way: twenty-one present senators have served more than twenty years in Congress.
Forty
senators are sixty-five or older and twenty-two are age seventy or older. These are political lifers. This is the ruling class that the Founders feared.
George Washington, on the other hand, is often compared to the great Roman statesman Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus. Cincinnatus had given up his idyllic life on the farm to serve as Magister Populi—a title giving him all dictatorial powers and the ability to deal decisively with any emergency threatening the republic. Once Rome had defeated its rival tribes and the threat had passed, Cincinnatus voluntarily surrendered those powers and returned to the Roman Senate, and back to plowing his fields and living the life of the average citizen.
The Society of the Cincinnati was an association founded after the Revolutionary War by military officers to honor their own “Cincinnatus” and to “preserve the rights so dearly won; to promote the continuing union of the states; and to assist members in need, their widows, and their orphans.”
The society’s motto,
Omnia relinquit servare rempublicam
, means “He relinquished everything to serve the Republic.”
Not surprisingly, in December 1783, George Washington was elected as the society’s first president.
That was all Washington wanted. Throughout his entire career he had fought, both literally and figuratively, against the idea of an American royalty or nobility. Nothing did more to cement that legacy than his voluntary decision to leave the presidency after two terms.
In retrospect, it’s not surprising that Washington made another difficult decision—he’d been making them his entire life. The harder the choice, the higher he seemed to rise above it. In the end, he made the hardest decision of all—one that has confounded even the most well intentioned people over the years—he turned his back on power.
Through that act he not only set a precedent for those who would follow him (FDR being the one notable exception), he also set an example for all Americans. After all, it’s one thing to talk about raising a standard for the wise and honest—it’s another thing to actually do it. We can talk about things like honor and character and humility until we’re blue in the face, but if we’re not ready to live our lives according to those principles, then we’re really no better than those we claim to resent.
Being George Washington was not easy—and neither is attempting to live by the standard he set. But if Washington taught us one thing, it’s that doing the easy thing is rarely the right thing, and doing the right thing is rarely easy.
The name of Washington will live when the sculptured marble and statue of bronze shall be crumbled into dust—for it is the decree of the eternal God that “the righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance, but the memorial of the wicked shall rot.”
—RICHARD ALLEN, A FORMER SLAVE,
FROM HIS EULOGY OF GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1799
G
eorge Washington’s overriding fear in life was that he might be dishonored in death.
His reputation with his family, his fellow countrymen, and his God meant everything to him and it constantly motivated him to become a better person. It’s why he taught himself the rules of civility. It’s why he was always loyal, honest, and humble. It’s why he educated himself on policy, history, science, and human nature. It’s why he pushed himself out of his comfort zone time and time again. It’s why he did the tough things and made the difficult choices—even when every ounce of his being was pulling him in the opposite direction.
George Washington, like you and I, was a flawed, imperfect man. He was born that way, and he died that way. He had no exceptional powers or unique abilities, except for one: he did not care for public accolades, only private honor. As William Bentley said during one of the many eulogies that were delivered in Washington’s honor, “True greatness dwells in the soul.” Washington lived his life as though that were his motto. If we live as though it is ours, we will be well on our way to following in his footsteps.
Being George Washington in today’s world means a daily struggle between your heart and your brain; between instant gratification and enduring greatness.
Being George Washington means passing up awards, honors, and public admiration in exchange for real honor and the admiration of only those who know you best.
Being George Washington means looking out for our families, our neighbors, and our countrymen—standing for them when they can’t stand for themselves. Washington wrote: “How pitiful, in the eye of reason and religion, is that false ambition which desolates the world with fire and sword for the purpose of conquest and fame when compared to the milder virtues of making our neighbors and our fellow men as happy as their frail conditions and perishable natures will permit them.” In other words, choose small but real victories over false idols such as fame.
Being George Washington means putting country above party. Washington loathed the idea of partisanship because it “serves always to distract the public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates the community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarm; kindles the animosity of one part against another; foments occasionally riot and insurrection.” Have his words ever rung more true? That doesn’t mean that we can’t disagree on policy—of course we can—but it does mean that we need return to the core ideas of our founding because they are the concepts—life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—that all Americans, regardless of party, can agree on.
Being George Washington means becoming a leader. Not of a country or an army, but of yourself, your community, and your own family. It means taking personal responsibility for your actions and holding those around you to the same standard.
Being George Washington means accepting that this country was chosen for Divine protection because the struggle for freedom is worthy of God’s protection. It means believing that miracles can happen to all of us because a great Author is writing the script. But it also means not sitting around waiting for them. George Washington certainly didn’t wait—and look at what he experienced. As a young man he was a mere subject of the British Crown; as an old man he was one of the few people in the history of the world to ever experience true freedom.
That is a miracle.
What other mortal can lay claim to a legacy that has allowed so many to experience freedom around the world?
We need to continue that legacy, but we’ve been searching for the “next” George Washington in all the wrong places. The truth is that he doesn’t exist—yet. It’s up to us to build him—and it starts inside every single one of us.
So the real question is this: Are you willing to lose everything to do what’s right?
Washington did. He risked it all—his life, his fortune and his sacred honor—to complete a journey that, quite often, he didn’t even want to be on. Nothing less than that level of dedication is required of us today.
Being George Washington will be the hardest thing you ever do. There will be days you’ll want to give in, moments where you’ll wonder if all of the hard work and personal sacrifices are really worth it. Trust me, they are. You may die without awards, there may not be any monuments built in your honor, and your face may not be printed on our currency, but you’ll leave this earth with something else, something far more enduring and valuable: the reverence of your family, friends, and God, all of whom will know that true greatness dwelled in your soul.
Aide-de-camp
—A personal assistant, secretary, or adjutant to a person of high rank; Washington’s aides-de-camp included Hamilton, Lafayette, Joseph Reed (a great critic of Benedict Arnold), and Edmund Randolph (America’s first attorney general).
Cock hat
—A three-cornered hat worn in colonial times.
Comte
—The French equivalent of a count.
Cornet
—A now-abolished British and early American military rank, most equivalent to a second lieutenant.
Diphtheria
—An illness of the upper respiratory tract.
Dragoon
—A light cavalryman.
Drumhead
—The portion of a drum formerly made of animal skins (usually lamb, but often goat) upon which the tune was beat.
Durham boat
—A flat-bottomed boat used to transport iron, wood, grain, and whiskey. They measured three feet deep and were generally thirty to forty feet in length. On occasion they might reach sixty feet in length. Built originally for the Durham Iron Works in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.
Feu de Joie
(“fire of joy”)
—A celebratory running of musket fire.
Gibbet
—The gallows structure upon which a dead criminal was left on public display after his execution.
Grenadier
—An elite infantryman. Originally so called because they were specialized in throwing grenades. The high, peaked caps worn by Hessian troops, akin in shape and design to a bishop’s mitre, are called “grenadier’s caps,” even though they might be made of brass.