Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation

Since 1776, George Washington has been known as “‘the Father of the Country,’” and by the time he assumes the presidency in 1789, American citizens generally regard him as some kind of omnipotent hero (120). “Washington was the core of gravity that prevented the American Revolution from flying off into random orbits, the stable centre around which the revolutionary energies formed,” and in a union of dissenters, he is, as a popular toast puts it, ‘“the man who unites all hearts’” (120). 

On September 19, 1796, on the eve of his retirement, Washington scripts a Farewell Address, a letter to the American people in which he addresses them as “‘Friends, and Fellow Citizens”’ and explains his visions for their country (157). Washington’s retirement after two terms of office sets a “landmark precedent […] establishing the republican principle of rotation in office” (122).

The official reason for Washington’s retirement is age. However, there are criticisms that the six-foot-four, majestic Washington, who has a penchant for being driven around Philadelphia in a six-horse carriage, is styling himself as a “quasi king” (126). His devotion to nurturing the new capital on the Potomac River, which will be named after him, is also viewed as a kingly endeavor by the Republican press. 

Washington’s personal style conflicts with the requirements of post-revolutionary America where there is a “virulent hatred of monarchy and an inveterate suspicion of any consolidated version of political authority” (127). For example, Jefferson, in the Declaration of Independence, declares that all kings—not just the deposed George III—are “inherently evil” (128). Subsequently, Washington’s presidency becomes trapped within the contradiction of a symbolic leader of the union who is not a monarch. Washington attempts to resolve this contraction by retiring voluntarily after two terms and declaring that “his deepest allegiances, like those of his critics, were thoroughly republican” (128). 

Ellis likens Washington to the British philosopher Isaiah Berlin’s hedgehog, who knows “one big thing” rather than “many little things” (134). The big thing Washington knows is that “America’s future as a nation lay to the West, in its development over the next century of a continental empire” (134). This is why in his Farewell Address he advocates against American involvement in the affairs of Europe, such as the wars for supremacy between Britain and France, which he considers “a mere sideshow and distraction” to America’s bigger project (134). This statement is preceded by his launch of the 1793 Proclamation of Neutrality, which declares America an impartial witness to the ongoing European conflict. 

In this early idea of isolationism, he differs from others in government such as Jefferson. Whereas Washington:

regarded the national interest as a discrete product of political and economic circumstances shaping the policies of each nation-state at a specific moment in history, Jefferson envisioned a much larger global pattern of ideological conflict in which all nations were aligned for or against the principles that America had announced to the world in 1776 (142). 

Jefferson regards the French Revolution as a continuation of the spirit of ’76, though he regrets the violence with which the situation is handled. Historical records show how Jefferson “[is] orchestrating a campaign of vilification” against Washington, while he publicly maintains the veneer of friendship (143). 

Throughout the Farewell Address, Washington exhorts Americans to think of themselves “as a collective unit with a common destiny” (155). This, according to Ellis, is less descriptive than anticipatory, “predictions of what we could become” (155). Also, Washington perceives that following his exit, “the national scene would require the enlargement, not the diminution, of the powers of the federal government in order to compensate for his absence,” a controversial statement, given the fears of the southern states (156). However, not wishing to upset southerners, Washington says nothing about slavery in his address, sustaining Congress’ silence on the matter. Still, in the last draft of his will in 1796, he mentions that he wants his own slaves to be freed after his wife’s death. 

Reactions to the farewell address vary—the overwhelming public response is to be “tearfully exuberant,” embracing Washington’s message (159). At the same time, the Republican press denounces his policy of isolation and warning against political division at home as the signs of a “‘sick mind”’ (160).