Washington unmasked

Washington: A Life

As president, it was observed that he would stand rather than kneel when praying and that he almost never referred directly to Christ or Jesus. Speaking publicly, he preferred to use vague terms such as Providence and Destiny.

This, as Ron Chernow observes, has led some historians to lump Washington with the Deists, or even with near agnostics such as Jefferson. One of America’s great ironies is that the founding fathers of the nation — now the most visibly religious of western countries — were rationalists, influenced strongly by the enlightenment thinking of the time.

Washington’s case, however, was not so straightforward. As Chernow nicely puts it: “Even if his God was impersonal, with scant interest in individual salvation, He seemed to evince a keen interest in North American politics”.

Do Washington’s beliefs have any significance now? For that matter, do we need yet another weighty tome about one of the most biography-laden individuals of the past few centuries? They do, and we do. American politics today is driven — and riven — by the struggle between intense religiosity and more secular impulses. The union also continues to evince a powerful fascination for the words and deeds of its founders, scrutinising their utterances and interpreting the constitution to fit. It is a huge game, played for very high stakes.

The Washington of legend is a curiously slippery character. Previous biographers have discovered the difficulty of getting to grips with the man inside the revolutionary leader and first president. The mythic Washington is an airbrushed fiction — the boy who could not tell a lie, the man whose stoicism and intelligence led to the survival of the continental army and the creation of the United States, along with the office which he was first to occupy.

Thus Gore Vidal, for example, so sharp when writing about other presidents, never quite managed to attach a living, breathing personality to Washington. Others have opted for parody: in his novel Mason and Dixon, Thomas Pynchon portrays a dope-smoking Colonel Washington. George did actually grow hemp, but for its rope-making rather than its narcotic qualities. But Pynchon’s satire is a response to the bland perfection of the mythic Washington, whose vices were few.

Chernow, by digging deep into contemporary sources, aims for a radical reconstruction of Washington as a human being, warts and all. He succeeds, too — not by bringing previously unknown scandals to light, but by piling detail on detail until a recognisable human person starts to emerge. He does this with painstaking, yet readable, thoroughness — it takes more than 300 pages, for instance, to reach the Battle of Valley Forge, a low point in the War of Independence.

After more than 500 pages, Washington has won the war and — after an interlude as a “gentleman farmer” — is ready for the presidency. For many readers, this is the real focus of interest. It has long been clear that the American constitution was deliberately vague on the subject of the presidency.

Washington’s slipperiness, his lack of personality, his wooden front, betoken the actions of a man who knew he was defining roles for future generations. He had no false pride: he was aware that the United States could become a great power if it survived, and that his actions could direct its style of governance for centuries.

The key to a personality lies in its contradictions. Behind Washington’s massive carapace of amour propre lay a contradictory, even haunted, individual. With some reluctance, he took on a symbolic role as father of a nation, and colluded in the myth-making that such a figure requires.

Chernow carefully pieces together the fragments of the jigsaw puzzle: his version of Washington is not a radical act of revisionist history. It is, rather, a strenuous compilation of small details, which slowly accumulate to reveal the man behind the stately mask.

The modern reader may find this tough going at times. It can be hard to track the narrative of Washington’s life when there are so many detours — however fascinating — into the lives of those around him.

Yet the book is a considerable achievement. It successfully quelled this reader’s doubts as to the utility of yet another life of Washington. Chernow has a witty, quirky style that makes the weight of historical data more palatable.

He writes about how, on his death, “the Father of His Country evolved into a divinity”, to the point that some contemporary clergymen actually argued that George’s farewell address to the nation should be added to the Bible as an epilogue.

Chernow restores his humanity without bringing him down from the pedestal. Washington, at a distance of over 200 years, still commands our respect. He was, in his person, something new in the world: the elected leader of a great republic who could walk among kings as an equal. The presidency is still recognisable as the office he created — although Lincoln, Roosevelt and various recent incumbents have used war as an excuse to bend the rules.

Even more importantly, the USA is what it is because of decisions taken by this man. Until 1940, no president dared to run for more than two terms, because of the precedent set by George. And after the death of the four-term president Roosevelt, the two-term rule was enshrined in the constitution. Chernow shows the accidents, the contingencies, the events that might have fallen out differently. He plots the relationship between Washington’s character and the historical tumult around him.

At a time when public godliness has become a necessity in American politics, Washington’s careful distinction between private faith and public neutrality is instructive. Recent occupants of the office he created could have learned from his example.