DR: Did he not write, “I think this is the end. We’re not going to make it”?
JW: The crisis led Washington to draw on his innermost strength. He refused to accept defeat. He worked to keep what was left of his army intact, and he assured his men that they could still prevail. He told them to hold firm and that victory could be achieved.
Thomas Paine, who was with the army, caught that spirit of defiant determination, and wrote a pamphlet called The Crisis that Washington had read to the army. “I call not upon a few,” it said, “but upon all: not on this state or that state, but on every state: up and help us; lay your shoulders to the wheel; better have too much force than too little, when so great an object is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet and to repulse it.”
Washington understood that the British needed to win the war quickly. The longer it went on, the more likely the French, Britain’s historic foe, would join the war on America’s side. Washington was determined to hang on. His battered army believed in him and followed him back across the icy Delaware to victories at Trenton and Princeton—victories that shocked the British and inspired Americans to keep fighting. This was his greatest moment.
DR: Eventually we won the war at Yorktown. On October 19, 1781, the British general Lord Cornwallis surrendered to the American forces, led by Washington, and their French allies led by General Rochambeau. The war dragged on for another eighteen months, but the British finally accepted American independence and signed a treaty of peace in 1783. At that moment, Washington resigned his commission and went home to Mount Vernon. When he heard this, King George III said, “If George Washington gives up power, as I hear he’s going to, he’s the greatest man in the world.” Why did he say that?
JW: Because it had never happened before and has scarcely happened since. Whether we’re talking about revolutions we like or revolutions we don’t, revolutions of the far right or the far left, they have a defining feature. The men who led them hold on to power. They convince themselves that they are the revolution. And they behave as Cuba’s Fidel Castro behaved, and hold on to power as long as they can. And more often than not, they become ruthless tyrants.
Washington believed the revolution he had led was our revolution. When it was over, he surrendered the authority he had been given and entrusted the fate of the nation to its people. He knew that it was a critical moment. He wrote a letter to the states, which was immediately published all over the country, in which he asked Americans to dedicate themselves to the high ideals of the Revolution. “It is yet to be decided,” he wrote, “whether the Revolution must ultimately be considered as a blessing or a curse: a blessing or a curse, not to the present age alone, for with our fate will the destiny of unborn millions be involved.”
DR: So, for example, Cromwell, Napoleon, Mao, Lenin, Castro—when they led revolutions, they stayed in power. The fact that Washington went back to Mount Vernon was unusual. When he went back to Mount Vernon, what did he do? He just went back to being a planter?
JW: He did, although it was difficult for him. Washington enjoyed farming, at least as an intellectual exercise. He enjoyed experimenting with new crops and improving his plantation. But he was, even in retirement, the most important figure in the country. People came to see him and wrote to him about public affairs almost continuously. He knew almost everyone in public life and was universally respected. Mount Vernon, he quietly grumbled, was “like a well-resorted tavern,” always filled with visitors, and they invariably wanted to talk with Washington about political issues.
Washington’s roles of general and gentleman farmer combine in this mid-1800s image showing the general and his family at Mount Vernon in 1784, bidding farewell to General Lafayette, Washington’s staunch French ally.
DR: The country was then being governed under the Articles of Confederation, which brought the original thirteen states together in a loose confederation that gave little power to the federal government. James Madison says it’s probably not working. He goes to George Washington and says, “Would you be willing to chair a convention to figure out how to amend the Articles of Confederation so as not to completely get rid of them?” Why did George Washington agree to do that?
JW: Madison persuaded him by reminding Washington of what mattered most to him. He predicted that the republic would fail, and Washington’s legacy would be forgotten, if Washington refused to act.
Washington—like Benjamin Franklin and some of the other leaders of that generation—had conceived a vast ambition. He wanted to be remembered, like the heroes of classical antiquity that he’d been taught to admire since boyhood, as the founder of a great republic. He wanted us to have this conversation about him this evening. That was his private ambition. He wanted us to remember him.
Madison warned him that the republic would crumble if Washington did not lead the effort to reform the Articles of Confederation. Washington didn’t want to be remembered as the virtuous founder of a failed republic. He was willing to risk his reputation by coming out of retirement to save the republic he had spent so many anxious days and sleepless nights to establish.
DR: The Declaration of Independence was adopted in Independence Hall in Philadelphia. In 1787, the Constitutional Convention is convened in the same place, Independence Hall, and George Washington is elected the head of it. The entire time the new Constitution is being debated, he doesn’t say one word, except at the very end. Why was that?
JW: Washington was one of the most skilled politicians of all time and lived by the general principle that what it’s not necessary to say, it’s necessary not to say. He knew that he didn’t have to say much in the convention. James Madison had arrived with a plan for a new constitution, and the men who could be counted on to support discarding the Articles of Confederation and adopt a new and more effective form of government included some of the most gifted minds of the early modern world.
Washington also understood that one of the main tasks of the convention would be to provide for an effective federal executive. Nearly everyone present agreed that the convention should propose a single executive with considerable authority. There was only one person anyone could imagine entrusting with that authority, and he was sitting quietly in the front of the room. Washington was destined to lead the new government, and he made sure that it was a government designed by others, so that no one would suggest he had fashioned its powers for himself.
DR: When the convention concluded and the Federal Constitution was submitted to the states for ratification, Washington didn’t get involved. He didn’t urge anybody to ratify the document. Why?
JW: He had, in fact, endorsed the Constitution by signing it. He had associated his own prestige with the Constitution, and no argument offered in favor of it was as powerful as Washington’s endorsement. He fully expected the document would be ratified, and that he would be called upon to lead the new government. He saw no reason to spend his political capital in debate. He didn’t believe he needed to, and events proved him right.
DR: So the Constitution was ratified, and George Washington was elected president by the unanimous vote of the electors. Did he really want to be president of the United States, or was he forced into it? Would he have been happy just to stay at Mount Vernon?
Reluctantly elected as the nation’s first president, Washington was inaugurated on April 30, 1789, at Federal Hall in New York City, then the seat of the U.S. government.
JW: Washington wrote and said repeatedly that he didn’t want to be president. And when politicians say that kind of thing—
DR: Remember who you’re talking to here.
JW: When politicians say, “You know, I don’t want to be elected, don’t do this”—we don’t believe them. But Washington meant it. He wrote to Henry Knox, his intimate friend, in a private letter, that “my movements to the chair of Government will be
accompanied with feelings not unlike those of a culprit who is going to the place of his execution: so unwilling am I, in the evening of a life nearly consumed in public cares, to quit a peaceful abode for an Ocean of difficulties.… Integrity & firmness is all I can promise.”
DR: He was elected unanimously. And under the Constitution, whoever got the most votes from the electors was president and whoever got the second most was vice president. So the vice president was John Adams. At the beginning of their administration, Washington thought he would involve Adams in governing, but he got mad at him. He never talked to him for eight years. Is that right?
JW: At the outset, Washington didn’t know Adams very well, and neither man had a very clear idea what the vice president ought to do. In the early weeks of the administration, Washington called on Adams for advice, and if things had happened differently, the vice presidency might have emerged as a much more important role.
But early in the Washington administration, Adams pressed the Senate to adopt a title for the president similar to those associated with kings. A committee finally suggested “His Highness, the President of the United States, and the Protector of Their Liberties,” which Adams endorsed. This proposal did not go over well in Washington’s own Virginia, where critics continued to warn that the new government would deprive the people of their liberties. Thereafter Washington kept his distance from Adams. He treated Adams cordially but gave him no responsibilities, which led Adams to call the vice presidency “the most insignificant office that ever the invention of man contrived or his imagination conceived.”
DR: George Washington wanted to be called “Your Excellency”?
JW: Washington actually shared Adams’s concern about establishing public respect for the presidency and the new government in general. “Your Excellency” was a common way of addressing a state governor, and not consistent with the dignity of the presidency Washington worked to establish. James Madison proposed “Mr. President,” which has endured.
Washington understood, better than others, that respect for the presidency would ultimately have little to do with titles and other formalities. He knew that public regard for the office would depend upon the conduct of the men who held it. He recognized that the eyes of the world were on him, and he worked constantly to promote the public interest, discourage partisanship, and avoid the slightest appearance of using his office for his private benefit or the benefit of friends or relatives.
In this regard, as in many others, he was a revolutionary, though we don’t always recognize it. Consider the familiar Gilbert Stuart portrait of Washington, in which Washington wears a simple black suit. Today that kind of suit—or some variant—is the daily attire of most heads of state. But in 1789, when the world was ruled by kings and emperors wearing crowns and purple robes edged with ermine, Washington’s dress was a revolutionary political statement. Washington’s revolution is now so complete that we no longer see how revolutionary it was.
DR: The new government met first in New York and then moved to Philadelphia, but quickly passed the Residence Act, saying that we’re going to have an entirely new capital and that the man in charge of figuring out where it’s going to be is the president of the United States. And the president of the United States decides he wants to build it somewhere on the Potomac River. How did he decide? Did he come down and actually look at the sites himself? Did he have other things he had to worry about, or did he have time to go find a site?
JW: The Residence Act called for the establishment of the federal seat on the Potomac River, somewhere between the mouth of the Anacostia River and a stream called Conococheague Creek, which is up in Washington County, Maryland, near Hagerstown. Washington had lived on the Potomac River all of his life, and he knew exactly where he wanted to put this city, but he didn’t want to appear impulsive or biased in any way, so he rode up the river and visited all the potential sites. In fact, he’d already made up his mind, and the tour was political theater. He had chosen the area between the mouth of the Anacostia and Rock Creek. He believed that this could become the site of the greatest city on earth.
DR: And the city was built by slave labor?
JW: Slave labor was involved in the construction of most buildings and other improvements in Washington through the Civil War. The site of the federal city was a mix of undeveloped woods interspersed with small farms. In the early years there was never enough labor to clear the land, construct the unpaved streets, and build the essential buildings. The managers had to hire slaves from local plantation owners.
DR: It was hard to get the money, so Washington came up with a lottery system to try to raise money. In the end, it almost didn’t happen. How close did it come to not actually getting built?
JW: Very close. The Residence Act of 1790 was the mother of all unfunded mandates. Congress authorized Washington to choose the site for a federal city but neglected to appropriate any funds to acquire the land or build the public buildings.
DR: That would not happen now.
JW: No. Nothing like that happens anymore.
Actually, the whole business was as politically charged as anything in our history. Congressmen from Pennsylvania didn’t want to see the government leave Philadelphia, and congressmen from other northern states hoped the city would never be built and that the government would remain in Philadelphia or return to New York. So they refused to appropriate money for the project. They didn’t understand Washington’s determination. The president came down to Georgetown, which was then a little port town, and met with all the local landowners.
I picture this scene—forgive me, this is a little bit irreverent—like one of those late-night infomercials about buying real estate with no money down. In effect, Washington said, “Look, here’s the plan. All of you are going to deed over the rural land you own to a neutral trustee. And the neutral trustee is going to divide it up into building lots and city streets. And you’re going to get back two-thirds of the land that you gave us in city lots. That means you are going to give away a third of your land to us, some of which is going to be used for city streets, and some as lots for public buildings. The government won’t pay you for your land, but your city lots will be worth a lot more than your rural real estate. The federal government is going to sell off most of its lots and with the proceeds we will pave all the streets, which is going raise the value of your real estate. What do you say?”
And, of course, this is George Washington making the pitch, and everybody signs on. With that the city was born, despite the fact that Congress didn’t appropriate any money.
Washington watches every detail of the development of the city. He’s determined to see it rise. He thinks that it can be a combination of contemporary London and Paris. It can imitate the glories of ancient Rome and Athens. He thinks it can be the greatest city on earth.
DR: Did he say, “Let’s name it Washington”?
JW: No. George Washington was far too modest for that. He referred to it for the longest time as the Great Columbian Federal City. Considering the fact that it was undeveloped woods and farmland, this was a bit of real estate development hyperbole.
DR: Where did the idea of naming the city after Washington come from?
JW: The idea of naming the city after George Washington was tossed around in the press and in private correspondence from the time the Residence Act was passed. Washingtonople and Washingtonopolis were both suggested. So was Columbia. Congress decided to name the entire one-hundred-square-mile federal enclave the District of Columbia and authorized the president to appoint commissioners to oversee the construction of the city inside the district. The commissioners voted to name the city Washington.
DR: In his lifetime it was called Washington?
JW: Yes, in his lifetime.
DR: As president of the United States, George Washington only had three people in the cabinet?
JW: Four, if you include the attorney general. Congress authorized the departments of state, treasury, and war, with
secretaries to run each department. The attorney general—Edmund Randolph—didn’t have much public business to do and was admitted in the courts of Pennsylvania.
DR: Washington’s secretary of state was Thomas Jefferson, and his secretary of the treasury was Alexander Hamilton. And they didn’t get along too well?
JW: They were two of the most brilliant men of their time, but they had little in common. Jefferson was a Virginia planter and well connected socially. Hamilton—some ten years younger—was a West Indian immigrant who had pulled himself up from obscurity. Jefferson had spent the Revolutionary War as a legislator, governor, and diplomat. Hamilton had been a soldier—an artillery officer and then aide-de-camp to Washington. They were barely acquainted before they met in Washington’s cabinet and they almost immediately developed a dislike for one another.
DR: Hamilton was in favor of a stronger federal government and Jefferson was in favor of a weaker federal government. Is that a fair characterization?
JW: I see it a little differently. Both men wanted to ensure the survival of the republic and wanted the federal government to be a success.
Jefferson was in Europe, serving as our ambassador to France, when the Federal Constitution was framed and ratified, and he was a rather remote spectator to the process. He supported revision of the Articles of Confederation, but his friend James Madison had to convince him of the wisdom of adopting the new Federal Constitution. When he arrived home to take up his duties as secretary of state, he was in favor of a small federal government empowered to conduct the diplomatic affairs of the new nation and provide for the common defense, but otherwise limited in scope.
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