This is a good time for a new book about First Ladies. They are the forgotten heroes (or is it heroines?) of American history, largely eclipsed by the brighter light cast by famous husbands. Their stories have not received the attention they deserve.

Some were reluctant to assume the role of First Lady, either because they did not perceive themselves capable or because they feared making their private lives public. Others enthusiastically embraced the idea, seeing both challenges and opportunities.

The brief biographies in Amy Russo’s new book, Women of the White House, no more than 2-4 pages each, including pictures, are mildly informative.  The book is well put-together with regard to layout and graphic design.  It looks great and conveys high quality. Russoâ€s selection of First Lady portraits is especially impressive. An outstanding collection of this caliber is rarely found in a single volume.

All of this having been said, it is unfortunate that modern cultural currents flow through the authorâ€s comments below and in the Afterword. The author’s ideological agenda mars what could have been a remarkable work.  It occurs to us that, with a few modifications, this would make an excellent coffee table book — the photos and portraits are wonderful, and the short timelines that record the important events of each First Lady’s life provide some interesting information at a glance.

Introduction

First ladies, unlike presidents, serve by circumstance in a role that has been defined by culture rather than the Constitution. There is no job description and there are no codified rules. In that there is agency. Those who have come to shape the legacy of the East Wing the most have embraced its capacity for influence with political acumen, passion and the ability to act as allies and agents of change.

These sentences require some digestion. Russo implies that because First Ladies are neither mentioned nor regulated by the Constitution, they are not constrained by it. “Agents of change” both expresses hubris and implies political orientation. Russo seems to applaud First Ladies who amass and exercise political power, whether on behalf of a president, or to fulfill personal political ambitions. Her use of words such as ally and agency connote an agenda driven by identity politics and “intersectionality.”

Below are a handful of the first ladies from Russo’s book, with some additional context based on works covered previously at WWTFT.

Martha Dandridge Washington

Wives of public men in the 18th century were expected to host formal dinners, see to the comfort of house-guests, and keep domestic order. When Daniel Parke Custis died suddenly in 1757, Martha Dandridge had to raise four young children alone, manage a large estate, and oversee slaves. All of it was preparation for her future marriage to George Washington.

… she was left with a 17,500-acre plantation and nearly 300 slaves, making her incredibly wealthy at the age of 26.

…

By all accounts their marriage was a loving one, although circumstances required stoicism from both parties. During the American Revolutionary War (1775), General Washington spent eight years at camps on the front line. Martha joined him for almost half that time and actively participated in camp life. She cared for the sick, knitted hundreds of pairs of wool socks for winter campaigns, and entertained important visitors. Washington considered Marthaâ€s presence so vital that he asked Congress to pay her travel expenses (and he wasn’t yet president.)

When the war ended in 1783, the Washingtons returned home to Mount Vernon until 1787 when Washington agreed to preside over the Constitutional Convention. In 1789 when George was unanimously elected president, Martha was not enthusiastic about moving to New York and becoming the first First Lady, (though the term had not yet been invented). Nonetheless, she determined to set a proper standard for the future. They moved again when the Capitol was relocated to Philadelphia.

They missed life at Mount Vernon, a longing that only grew during Washingtonâ€s tumultuous second term. He struggled to hold the new nation together despite foreign wars, emerging partisanship and tension within his Cabinet.

The Great Divide by Thomas Fleming, (reviewed here.)

Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson made the task more difficult. An ardent supporter of the French Revolution, Jefferson contrived to undermine Washingtonâ€s neutrality policy by secretly engaging in activities favorable to the French. Notably, Martha Jefferson was the first presidential wife to die prior to her husband’s presidency (in 1782). This reviewer wonders if Jeffersonâ€s presidency (1801 – 1809.) would have been less calamitous had there been a First Lady to check his worst inclinations.

Abigail Smith Adams

Abigail was raised to run a household, bear and educate children, and help advance her husbandâ€s ambitions, all of which she did admirably well. She was his “confidant, advisor, and dearest friend, forging a bond between the two long before Adams became president.” First Family by Joseph Ellis (reviewed here) is one of, if not the best book about the Adams family.

When John was selected as a delegate to the Continental Congress, a friend warned that participation would brand him as a traitor and end his legal practice, and perhaps his life. John was not deterred. He was convinced a break with England was inevitable, perceiving that the old world was rooted in coercive forms of government and the new on the basis of consent. The majority of delegates thought that reconciliation was possible. Adams and developing events persuaded them otherwise.

Abigail shared Johnâ€s convictions, but worried about what form independence would take. She wrote to him: “What code of laws will be established? How shall we be governed to retain our liberties?” She opposed slavery and fretted that citizens willing to deprive others of their liberty “cannot be equally committed as those who hold to the principal ‘of doing to others as we would that others should to us.’” (First Family)

At home, Abigail managed the farm, cared for their four young children, and dealt with a series of domestic challenges, an epidemic of small pox among them. Her letters reveal the difficulties she had to surmount during the four years her husband was in Philadelphia. When Adams became president in 1797, Abigail did not welcome the prospect of moving to the new Capitol in Washington. John had no such misgivings: “I never wanted your advice and assistance more in my life.”

Abigailâ€s voice, though not equal to Johnâ€s in national affairs, was influential. Their voluminous correspondence reveals her devotion to her husband, their children, and to the formation of the new nation.

Dolley Payne Todd Madison

Dolley Payne Toddâ€s first husband, new baby, and in-laws died of Yellow Fever in 1773. Only Dolley and her 18-month-old son survived.

She married James Madison in 1797. They lived in Philadelphia for three years before then-President Thomas Jefferson appointed Madison Secretary of State. The Madisons moved to Washington in 1801.

Dolley Madison did much to define the role of the President’s spouse, known only much later by the title First Lady—a function she had sometimes performed earlier for the widowed Thomas Jefferson. Wikipedia

Dolley Madison quickly established a reputation for being a vivacious and politically astute hostess. The Madison home was a political powerhouse second only to the White House in influence. Dolley combined Martha Washingtonâ€s charm with Abigail Adams’s outspoken voice. She used both to advance her husbandâ€s career.

As First Lady she enlarged White House gathering areas and her prowess as a hostess. She was an important political asset for the new president, acting as a liaison to opposition leaders and smoothing the way for legislation Madison supported.

James Madison was an intellectual giant who, arguably, contributed more to the writing of the Constitution in 1787 than anyone. To prepare, he read dozens of books on government. Yet, for all his talent and smarts, Madison could be stubborn, manipulative, and opportunistic. See James Madison by Richard Brookhiser (reviewed here). Dolley was the perfect antidote.

Sarah Childress Polk

Russo writes:

Upon her husbandâ€s election in 1844, Sarah Polk emerged as one of the most powerful women of her time, cleverly wielding influence within the confines of patriarchal society through her strategic political partnership with the president.

The “patriarchal society” in which she lived did not confine her. Sarah used its strictures to promote James’s political ambitions by inventing her persona of religiosity, deference, and feminine modesty. To suggest otherwise is to demean her. Nobody in 1844 thought they lived in a patriarchy. Once again, Russo allows her modern wokeness and presumed moral superiority to tarnish her work.

Sarah recognized James’s political promise and pushed him forward. She shared his passion for small government and continued territorial expansion. She saw what he could do, and what they could do together. James quipped that “had he remained the clerk of the legislature, Sarah would never have consented to marry him.” Lady First by Amy S. Greenberg (reviewed here).

She was not a cipher for James or anyone else. She refused Suffragettes†entreaties to publicly support their cause (considering it unseemly for a presidentâ€s wife), but persuaded the ladies of her private sympathies and mobilized them to help James get elected.

Sarah was James’s trusted intermediary, campaign manager, and communications director. She charmed his proponents and disarmed his adversaries. Her warm relationship with members of Congress and the military, established when James was Speaker of the House of Representatives, was immensely helpful in building support for their agenda of territorial expansion.

James K. Polk was brilliant, introverted, dour, taciturn, impatient, and driven — not attributes associated with winning friends and delivering votes. Sarah did both.

Unlike their predecessors, the Polks had no children and not the least interest in having any. Sarah had slaves to keep the home fires lit, a luxury that Abigail Adams did not have, nor wished to acquire.

Although there is a great deal of evidence that Sarah initially considered herself the very best kind of slave mistress, her solicitude for her slaves did not extend to freeing them, paying them, or to take measures that would improve their lives, if they would disrupt hers. (Lady First)

This lack of empathy for slaves extended to orphaned children of close relatives whom the Polks declined to bring into their home, although that was the standard in the South at the time (they did contribute to their support elsewhere.)

The policies of the Polk administration, particularly Indian removal and war with Mexico, were not universally admired at the time, and detractors are not in short supply now.

A Country of Vast Designs by Robert W. Merry (reviewed here) does not endorse everything the Polk Administration did, but gives credit for what was accomplished. Merry points out that during his four-year term, Polk extended the domain of the United States more than any other president by opening 25 million acres of land for settlement, paving the way for an enormous influx of immigrants (and fellow Americans) seeking better lives. He lowered tariffs, created an independent Treasury, wrested Oregon from the British, and concluded the Mexican-American War.

Amy S. Greenberg points out in Lady First that “[Sarah Polk] understood how to put the White House to work in service of the nation. She increased the number of weekly receptions at the White House, and transformed them to reflect the [Mexican-American] war now underway.” In addition, in order to bolster her (otherwise somewhat unassuming) husband’s public image as a military leader, she repurposed the Scottish march Hail to the Chief to signify his arrival at rallies and other events. This staunch support of the US military was instrumental in her husband’s success as president, and starkly contrasts with the actions of a particular future First Lady …

Hillary Clinton

It should come as no surprise that Russo dedicates a substantial portion of her work to discussing Hillary Clinton, crediting her with “redefining the place of presidential spouses in U.S. politics.” WWTFT regulars will likely predict that our assessment of Clinton’s contributions is rather different, namely that Clinton’s performance neither advanced the status of First Ladies in particular, nor that of women in general. In fact, a case can be made that she achieved the opposite.

The Clintons entered the White House under the banner of “two for the price of one,” a standard soon tattered by Bill’s philandering and Hillary’s imperious overreach as Chair of the Commission on Health Care Reform. Notably, she was the first First Lady to be officially appointed to a federal position. Furthermore, the scheming of the Clinton committee, the resulting recommendations, and the expanded federal power necessary to implement them were categorically repudiated by the bulk of the electorate.

Russo’s personal biases become clear throughout the final illustrations, and the sycophantic musings on Michelle Obama and Jill Biden contrast sharply with the pompous admonishments of Melania Trump. Russo is quick to point out the perceived flaws and myriad “controversies” associated with the latter, but speaks of the former with nothing but florid praise. Ultimately, this is indicative of a general issue with the book at large — while some subjectivity is to be expected in an encompassing work such as this, Russo’s attempts to apply the standards of 21st-century leftist ideology to the whole of the American story, turn what ought to be a history into an agenda-driven narrative in which the real story takes a backseat.

In the afterword, political science professor Anthony J Eksterowicz poses the question, “what will it take to elect the first female president of the United States?” The inherent strangeness of tacking such a question onto the end of this particular book aside, its implications devalue the efforts of the women discussed in the preceding pages. Since when does biology indicate qualification? The less said about it the better.

In writing his new book, Young Washington, Peter Stark utilizes an imagination fueled by his experience as an outdoorsman both prior to, and in preparation for, his reconstruction of the man Washington was before he became the man he wanted to be. The most recent Claremont Review of Books has an article about Theodore Mommsen by Joseph Epstein, in which the following quote appears:

… [Mommsen] wrote that imagination “is the author of all history as of all poetry.” By aligning the two, history and poetry, he surely meant that documents, inscriptions, accurate chronology alone are never sufficient in themselves to explain the past. Imagination is required to connect the dots, fill in the background, limn the characters of key actors, discover and reveal complex motivation, grasp larger movements.

This is an apt quote for Mr. Starkâ€s accomplishment in Young Washington. Stark’s descriptions of what it must have been like to trudge through thick forests and navigate icy rivers have a ring of authenticity because Stark has had such experiences. However, he is careful to make it obvious when he is musing about Washington versus recounting facts of which the reader can be relatively certain. His writing is engaging and thoughtful. The book is informative without being pedantic, and accessible without being superficial.

Several things stand out in Starkâ€s book.

Washington did not spring into existence as the fully formed demigod depicted in the ludicrous painting by Parson Weems. While it’s obvious on its face, callow is not too strong an adjective to use in describing Washington in his 20â€s.

Many historians have noted Washingtonâ€s ambition and fixation on reputation. Everyone has to grow up. Everyone has to make mistakes along the way.  Washington was no exception and provided many cringe-worthy actions that contributed to the man Washington became. For example, he was obsessed with his best friendâ€s wife, Sally Fairfax. While this is ground that has been covered by others, Stark provides context and depth when he quotes from a letter that Washington wrote to her after finally coming to terms with the fact that it was not to be:

Tis true. I profess myself a Votary to Love — I acknowledge that a Lady is in the Case — and further I confess, that this Lady is known to you. Yes Madam, as well as she is to one, who is too sensible of her Charms to deny the Power, whose Influence he feels and must ever Submit to. I feel the force of her amiable beauties in the recollection of a thousand tender passages that I could wish to obliterate, till I am bid to revive them. — but experience alas! Sadly reminds me of how Impossible this is.

Later in the letter he makes one more passionate plea,

One thing, above all things in this World I wish to know, and only one person of your Acquaintance cans solve me that, or guess my meaning.

He desperately wanted to know if she returned his affection.

Stark takes the time to explain the circumstances in which Washington composed this raw and painful missive. Washington was on the brink of a battle with the French in which he would be in harmâ€s way – and he was also engaged to marry the wealthy widow Martha Custus. In Starkâ€s words:

On the brink of battle, or marriage, or death, Washington had to know whether Sally loved him. He could not ask directly, of course, should the letter fall into some other hands. In the context of everything he wrote before, it is difficult to come to any other conclusion than that is what he so desperately wished to know. Only Sally could tell him.

She never did.  Although, at the end of the book Stark cites a wistful quote from her decades later in a letter to a relative. “I know now that the worthy man is to be preferred to the high-born.”

Another element that stands out in Starkâ€s narrative is that even while Washington was a callow youth, he was also a figure of monumental importance to the history of the United States – decades before the Revolution.

Washington was substantially responsible for helping to ignite what Americans refer to as the French and Indian War, which was, in fact, a war on a nearly global scale. On May 27, 1753, Washington, leading a group of Indians, attacked a group of 35 French soldiers sleeping in a U-shaped glen with rocky walls – though there is disagreement about who fired first. Regardless, Washington soon found himself nearly powerless to control the savagery of his indian allies.

The French, just roused from sleep, only fifty yards away, scrambled from their lean-to shelters.  Others sitting around the smoldering campfires dropped their breakfasts, grabbed their muskets, and took cover as best they could behind trees and rocks.

Fifteen minutes later, the battle was all but over. “What remained were the groans of the French wounded.”

The French leader had fallen to the ground, having taken a musket ball. A thirty-five-year-old ensign in the colonial regulars, he belonged to a large French-Canadian military family that descended from French nobility. He made it known who he was — Ensign Joseph Coulon de Villiers de Jumonville. He also communicated that he carried a message to deliver to Colonel Washington — a summons.

….

It warned that Contrecouer [the Commander at Fort Duquesne] had heard from the Indians that Colonel Washington at the head of an armed force had entered the lands of his Majesty, the King of France, and emphatically requested, in the name of the king, that he depart over the mountains “in Peace.” Claims by Virginians to have purchased Indian lands at the Forks of the Ohio wer so weak as to require, if necessary, eviction by force, he wrote, and as it was Commander Contrecoeurâ€s intention to keep the peace between the two Crowns, Colonel Washington would have to answer for any act of hostility . “Whatever your Schemes may be,” concluded Contrecoeur, “I hope you will show Mr. Jumonville all the respect that an Officer deserves, and that you will lend him back to me again with all Speed, to acquaint me with your intentions.”

Washington could not understand it.  He took the message from the French party.  He began to walk back to his own men to study it more carefully.

When Washington stepped away, his ally the “Half King” stepped forward and slammed a tomahawk into the frenchmanâ€s skull – several times.

The blows split open Ensign Jumonvilleâ€s skull.  Letting go of the bloody tomahawk, the Half King reached down and scooped out the gray mass of Jumonvilleâ€s brain, held it up, kneaded it through his fingers, as if washing his hands in Jumonvilleâ€s essence.

…

In both his first combat and his first taste of Indian-style warfare, the twenty-two-year-old probably watched dumbfounded in horror.

This was not Washingtonâ€s proudest moment. Jumonville had definitely not been shown “all the respect that an Officer deserves.” Heedless of the consequences, Washington had ignited a war. He could have approached peaceably and opened communication with French. In an example of that imagination referred to at the beginning of this review, Stark muses:

Did he [Washington] reflect on what had just occurred? Had it unfolded as he might have hoped, or did it seem wildly out of control and shockingly violent to him?

This was Washingtonâ€s second foray into the Wilderness. On his first sojourn he had delivered a message to the French at Fort Duquesne, letting them know of British claims to the region. He had been treated much more gently by the French than had the unlucky Jumonville by Washingtonâ€s forces.

Regardless, Washington amazingly did not suffer reproach for his actions. And Washington’s reputation was actually bolstered by his actions during the subsequent hapless campaign of Braddock – see the review of Braddockâ€s March here.

And after that disaster there was another campaign to oust the French from Fort Duquesne in which Washington was also a participant. After the last (successful) campaign (the French left without a fight) Washington had, in Starkâ€s words “lived for many, the equivalent of a lifetime.”

But what had he done? Stark sums it up:

At age twenty-three, as a young aide-de-camp, he survived the horrible slaughter of Braddockâ€s defeat, delivering the dying generalâ€s requests for reinforcements as men groaned and screamed along the midnight trail. Before he turned twenty-four, he had taken charge of the entire Virginia Regiment. He had to feed it, clothe it, pay it, and, sometimes most difficult of all, discipline it. When he was twenty-five, trying to bring discipline, he swung two of his men from a forty-foot gallows and had to bear that weight. His circle of responsibility ever spread and deepened. At twenty-six, he witnessed the nightmare spectacle of his own men shooting their comrades-in-arms in the foggy dusk, and tried to stop it. From a very early age, his choices, actions, and inclinations bore profound consequences for those around him.

Those things we learn, we learn by doing. The experiences, both on the field and with the British bureaucracy, were both formative and practical for the Washington of 1775 – 1783.

The final observation this reviewer will make about both the Washington of the 1750â€s and the Washington of twenty years later is the relationship between habit, character, and imagination. Washington didnâ€t start out as the stoic, iron-disciplined, selfless leader he became.  Contrast the love-struck youth with the man who led the Continental Army for 8 years (without pay), willingly surrendered his commission (when he likely could have been made king) in 1783, presided over the Constitutional Convention in 1787, was elected unanimously to the presidency twice, and set the precedent of peaceful transition of power by not accepting a third term. How does one reconcile these two versions of Washington? Stark asserts that Washington imagined a grander vision for himself and the role he was to play.

Like Benjamin Franklin, Washington recognized the need to develop and maintain good habits and self-discipline.  Many biographers have referred to the fact that at the age of 16 he copied by hand a list of 110 rules on civility compiled by 16th Century Jesuits. He took these to heart and practiced them assiduously. In the absence of a father (who died when Washington was eleven years old), Washington sought guidance from where he could. Everybody has to start someplace.

He was fearless when it came to physical danger, because he believed that Providence had decreed something important for him. Stark, like others before him, noted that Washington saw himself as an actor on the stage of history.

Biographers have noted that Washington loved the theater, and especially the play Cato, and seemed to think himself an actor on the stage of great events. In reading his letters and following his unfolding life, one senses that much of what he did, he did with an eye on posterity. He leaves the impression that he both participated in events and at the same time watched himself participating, monitoring the effectiveness of his performance. Striding across the stage, he thrived on the adulation of an audience. Later in life, he kept count of the ladies who attended events in his honor.

Washington was a man who liked women and enjoyed their company, but the General and President had larger motivations than had that of the young Colonel. Washington looked increasingly to posterity. For example – Washingtonâ€s address to the Continental Army before the battle of Long Island on August 27, 1776:

The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us only the choice of brave resistance, or the most abject submission. We have, therefore, to resolve to conquer or die.

Or in his letter of farewell to the army in 1783:

… it is yet to be decided, 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.

The perfection of his character increased in importance to Washington as he matured.

I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain (what I consider the most enviable of all titles) the character of an honest man … Washington in a letter to Alexander Hamilton, August 28, 1788

Character is perfected by action. Washington serves as an example of what is possible when a person actively and intentionally pursues virtue.

But the impulses and desires don’t weaken; it is rather the case that we get stronger.

Aristotle doesn’t go into much detail about how this happens, except to say that we get the virtues by working at them: in the give-and-take with other people, some become just, others unjust; by acting in the face of frightening things and being habituated to be fearful or confident, some become brave and others cowardly; and some become moderate and gentle, others spoiled and bad-tempered, by turning around from one thing and toward another in the midst of desires and passions. Professor Joe Sachs,  The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy

The Washington described in Starkâ€s book is awkward and imperfect, but also inspirational.  Douglas Southall Freeman, Washingtonâ€s definitive biographer, notes that Washingtonâ€s life provides “inspirational value” in large part because Washington “needed to develop with years and to overcome weakness.”

Few emulate what they cannot hope to duplicate. Youth, conscious of its failings, is suspicious of other youth supposed to have none. Where complete virtue does not create skepticism, it arouses resentment.  … Washington sometimes was violent, emotional, resentful — a human being and not a monument in frozen flesh.  George Washington – Volume 1: Young Washington

The Washington formed by the experiences outlined in Starkâ€s book is worthy of emulation.

Edward Lengel portrays a side of Washington that is frequently referenced in other books, but not explored to the degree of the First Entrepreneur.  Lengel’s Washington starts out more Jeffersonian than the typical biography of the man Harry Light Horse Lee eulogized as “first in peace, first in war, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”  The Washington in Lengel’s book is, of course, an entrepreneur, and while not an inventor, like Franklin, was an inveterate tinkerer.  Washington’s interests ranged far and wide.  As authors like Chernov have pointed out, Washington was keenly aware of his lack of formal education and spent a great deal of time and effort filling in the gaps.  His library may not have rivaled that of Jefferson, but was substantial and impressive.  Its subject matter focused on the practical more than the theoretical.

The purposefully directed, bricks-and-mortar reading style reflected Washington’s growing conviction that economics was the fundamental reality that underpinned everything else, included politics and war.

It seems that Washington understood the link between political freedom and economic freedom. Nearly two centuries later Frederich Hayek would explain, in the Road to Serfdom, (reviewed here) that economic freedom is intricately tied to political freedom.

To be controlled in our economic pursuits means to be always controlled unless we declare our specific purpose. Or, since when we declare our specific purpose we shall also have to get it approved, we should really be controlled in everything.

Lengel states that Washington was intrinsically aware of this relationship having learned it first-hand via the political crises of the 1760’s and 1770’s.

His [Washington’s] actions and words demonstrated his belief that political prosperity depended on economic prosperity, and that political freedom depends on economic freedom.

The line between economic freedom from Britain’s taxes and enforced monopolies on trade and shipping, and political freedom was nearly erased by 1775. Britain wanted the colonies to pay their share, as they saw it. When the colonies did not acquiesce, the British government resorted to progressively more forceful measures. In later years Washington is sometimes (dubiously) attributed to have said,

Government is not reason, it is not eloquence — it is force. Like fire it is a dangerous servant and a fearful master; never for a moment should it be left to irresponsible action.

Regardless of the accuracy of the attribution, Washington knew this to be true.

Military conflict threatened Washington’s personal ruin as well as America’s economic destruction. … It is a measure of both Washington’s realism and of his belief in the cause that he accepted the risk not just to participate in the war but to lead the army.

Lengel ties Washington’s innate understanding of economic principles to Washington’s role as Commander in Chief in other ways than merely knowledge of the causal linkage between war and economics.

Washington hated debt, and while he had a taste for the finer things, in the 1760’s and 1770’s he limited his consumption of imports from Great Britain to necessities, eschewing luxuries. This dovetailed with his growing conviction that the colonies needed to become more self-sufficient.

Washington’s resolution in the wake of the Stamp Act crisis to live within his means while aggressively building his fortune ideally suited him as a symbol of America’s quest for economic freedom.

This self-sufficiency would enable Washington to serve for duration of the war without salary. This is all the more remarkable because Washington knew that the war might well wreck his personal estate. While Washington did not accept a salary, he stipulated that his expenses, scrupulously documented (Lengel refers to Washington as a “fanatical account-keeper”), be reimbursed at the successful close of the conflict. In effect, Washington not only served without remuneration, he helped finance some of the war, at considerable physical and financial risk to himself.

Washington’s understanding of economics also factored in to his strategic vision.

… He also believe that beneath the clash of arms the conflict was fundamentally economic in character, and that the national fiscal health was the yardstick of military success. This outlook was vital to his strategic vision. Keeping in mind that economic freedom and prosperity were ultimate objectives, he sought to carry on the fight without undermining the foundations of future growth.

Winning the war, in other words, could not come at the price of losing the peace that followed. Building and maintaining a politically stable, democratic government would create a framework in which the economy could flourish. Conversely, establishing a functional economy and ensuring that it not collapse under the strains of war would ensure stable government. …

Lengel asserts that Washington utilized his experience as administrator of Mount Vernon in his management of the Continental Army. Many of the habits gained from his business dealings directly translated into his military life.

Transparency was one such characteristic not commonly shared among his contemporaries.

Many of his acquaintances and business associates were in the habit of juggling accounts to obscure secret expenditures or investments–or, more often, to hide fiscal embarrassments. No one could ever justly accuse Washington of such deceits. Probity and openness, he knew, built the trust essential to establish and maintain personal credit….

This quote might reflect a bit of the author’s bias. No reasonable student of Washington can deny the importance of his role, the overall excellence of his character and his constant struggle to reflect and demonstrate virtue. However, Washington was human and did struggle mightily with the conflict between self-interest and the public weal. Most of the time he was successful.

“Few public figures in American history could match Washingtonâ€s record of virtuous and selfless service, but even he stumbled when the vast potential of the frontier West was at stake….That personal considerations, from the potential enhancement of his Mount Vernon properties to the added value that would accrue to the real estate he owned in Alexandria, should now have entered his thoughts can hardly come as a surprise. As always, he convinced himself that the nation was the chief beneficiary of his actions. If that was not quite the case, it nevertheless would be difficult to argue that the national interest was in any way harmed by his conduct.”¹

Struggles or rationalizations of self-interest notwithstanding, Washington played upon his strengths. His understanding of the importance of the concept of private property was another economic principle that governed Washington’s conduct of the war. While it was true that British prohibitions on further westward settlement personally affected Washington, it would be unjust to ascribe too much significance to this. The attacks on Falmouth (1775) and Norfolk (1776) were in Washington’s eyes an attack on the principle of private property and infuriated him.

… Washington assumed that Norfolk was the dreaded next step in a British campaign against American property and commerce. In reaction, he began for the first time to to speak of “the Propriety of a Seperation” [sic] from Great Britain. In breaching the sacred principle of private property in a war against its own citizens, the ministry had renounced its right to govern. For Americans, it was no longer an option but a necessity to “shake off all Connexions with a State So unjust & unnatural.”²

Economist Ludwig von Mises (see review Omnipotent Government) would state it thusly,

Social cooperation and division of labor can be achieved only in a system of private ownership of the means of production, i.e., within a market society, or capitalism. All the other principles of liberalism, democracy, personal freedom of the individual, freedom of speech and of the press, religious tolerance, peace among the nations are consequences of this basic postulate. They can be realized only within a society based on private property.³

Lengels book succeeds in showing how Washington’s acumen as a businessman complemented his leadership throughout the war and during his presidency. He was able to balance and leverage the human propensity for self-interest with the public interest and harness the one to support the other. He did not delude himself with grandiose expectations that people would behave altruistically. Throughout the war, Washington was ruthless in his efforts to root out corruption. He saw the devastating impact on his troops. Nevertheless, he also recognized that virtue had to play a role as well.

Lengel points out a primary theme in Washington’s inaugural address,

… this was morality, and its place in the success of the great American experiment. Nature itself ordained morality in Washington’s worldview, and it fueled the work ethic of enlightened people left free to pursue their own interest. They would inevitably be industrious. In turn, their industry promoted private virtue even as it generated wealth. The process was self-sustaining; government need only clear the stage. Such was Washington’s meaning when he declared hopefully that “the foundations of our national policy, will be laid in the pure and immutable principles of private morality” and “that there exists in the economy and course of nature, an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness.” These were the principles that would inspire his conduct as president.

Lengel’s book is an interesting and novel approach to delving into the complexity of a virtuous man.

¹John E. Ferling, The First of Men: A Life of George Washington, p. 398.
²GW to Joseph Reed. 31 January 1776 (Papers, Revolutionary War Series, 3:90).
^;3Ludwig von Mises, Omnipotent Government, (Liberty Fund Library Version) p. 58

In a review entitled The First American, Robert K. Faulkner covers Robert K. Middlekauff’s Washington’s Revolution: The Making of America’s First Leader.

This reader needed no convincing about whether or not to add this book to his list. Middlekauff is a great writer and is always interesting. Faulkner’s brief (for Claremont) review focuses on Washington’s unbending determination to be honorable – even while being a shrewd and ambitious politician.

Robert Middlekauff has written a morally generous and politically shrewd account of how constitutional, revolutionary, paradoxical, and politically formative was General George Washington, even before his two terms as president.

In a review entitled Four-Horse Parlay, Michael Nelson provides not only a great summary of Joseph J. Ellis’s new book The Quartet: Orchestrating the Second American Revolution, but also adds some interesting commentary of his own.

This is not a book that will, in all likelihood, make it to the top of the WWTFT reading list.  Ellis is a good writer, but this is ground that has been covered a lot by WWTFT reviewers – and there are literally dozens of other titles already in the queue.  However, that isn’t to say that this is a book not worth reading.  Nelson’s review indicates that it is – especially for those who may not have plowed this ground before.

The value of Ellisâ€s book, in addition to its graceful prose and sure command of the period, is that it tells this story yet again to a nation that may have heard it but still hasnâ€t gotten the main point, which is that the orchestrators of the long, uphill sequence of events that led to enactment—call them framers, founders, or even Founding Fathers—were, in the best sense of the word, scholar-politicians. Almost to a one, they were widely read and deeply thoughtful about political philosophy. They also were richly experienced in war, politics, and government. Of the 55 convention delegates, Ellis records, “[t]hirty-five had served as officers in the Continental Army, and forty-two had served in the Continental or Confederation Congress.” The modern distinction between academics who reflect about politics and politicians who practice it had no place among them. Politics at its best entailed both intense study of the public good and the messy, complicated process of working to achieve as much of it as possible.

Both of these reviewers did a phenomenal job – the reviews are worth reading on their own merits – especially if one lacks the time to read the books about which they were written.

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The Great Divide
The Conflict Between Washington and Jefferson That Defined A Nation
By Thomas Fleming

This is an absorbing book that will enlighten many and shock some. Much has been written about Thomas Jeffersonâ€s clash with Alexander Hamilton, but the differences between George Washington and Jefferson have received little attention. The Great Divide rectifies that neglect and more.

James Madison

The more is the shifting allegiance of James Madison. He is called the “Father of the Constitution” because he was instrumental in its drafting. But Madisonâ€s contributions did not start or end there. The Virginia delegate to the Continental Congress was deeply troubled about the dangerous weaknesses of the Articles of Confederation. He visited Mount Vernon frequently to discuss his concerns with Washington. They agreed that the new nationâ€s survival was in doubt.

Washington warmly endorsed Madisonâ€s call for a national convention, which Madison promoted as a discussion of trade and commerce. But what Madison and Washington hoped to achieve was a drastic overhaul of the federal government. Even so, Madison had to work very hard to persuade the retired general to preside. Having gained Washingtonâ€s assent, he used the high regard in which Washington was held to persuade other notables to serve as delegates. Madison and Washington, aided by Alexander Hamilton, convinced some delegates a new government was imperative. Some needed no persuading.

Madison read dozens of books on government and his knowledge contributed greatly to drafting the Constitution. He co-wrote the Federalist Papers with John Jay and Alexander Hamilton, and personally pled the ratification cause in states where approval was in doubt. No one could have been a more knowledgeable or ardent advocate. It is not hyperbole to say that Madison was indispensible to George Washington and to the Founding. All of which makes Madisonâ€s later behavior so difficult to comprehend.

George Washington

George Washington was Jeffersonâ€s antithesis in many ways. He exerted remarkable self-control in adversity and was courageous on the battlefield and off.

What singles out Washington as a leader was the way he dealt with challenges to his army and his reputation almost from the day he took command in 1775. Again and again, he revealed an ability to think for himself and find the right solution to the daunting problems that confronted him. Year after year, he maintained an amazing equanimity in the supply of the constant awareness that failure meant disgrace and death. He was unquestionably a man ready, willing, and able to live dangerously.

He was also an astute politician who, during very tumultuous times, managed to surprise and outwit adversaries.

Washington and Madison

Madison understood that only Washington commanded the respect necessary to shepherd the new government. He prevailed upon a hesitant Washington to become a nominee for president. Not surprisingly, Washington was chosen unanimously by the electoral votes of all the states.

In addition to drafting Washingtonâ€s Inaugural Address, Madison advised the new president on his choices for “auxiliary offices.” The term “cabinet” was not yet in use. “As for secretary of state––could there be anyone better than Thomas Jefferson? Madisonâ€s answer was predictably and enthusiastically affirmative. Neither man realized that they were writing finis to their partnership––and eventually their friendship.”

During the eighteen-month struggle to create and ratify the Constitution, Jefferson was in France to negotiate commercial treaties. In a farewell note to Madison, he reported “the conviction growing strongly that nothing can preserve our confederacy unless the band of Union, their common council [Congress], be strengthened.

These words underscore a significant fact. Thomas Jefferson was out of touch with George Washington and James Madisonâ€s approach to strengthening the federal government. The man from Monticello was thinking about Congress; the man from Mount Vernon and his scholarly young advisor would soon be thinking about a new political entity: the American presidency. This divide in their approach to the nationâ€s government would grow deeper in the years to come.

When Jefferson received a copy of the Constitution, he wrote Madison about his likes and dislikes. Paramount among the latter was his fear that the first magistrate would succeed himself and become president for life.

Then came the words that t would echo through the rest of Jeffersonâ€s life:

“I own I am not a friend to a very energetic government. It is always oppressive…I think our governments will remain virtuous for many centuries, as long as they remain chiefly agricultural, and this will be as long as there are vacant lands in America. When they get piled upon one another in large cities, as in Europe, they will become as corrupt as Europe.”

Jeffersonâ€s letters to anti-federalist friends in Virginia and Maryland were far different in tone from the one he wrote Madison. He urged them to “reject this government till it be amended” in a second convention. The final vote in Virginia was 89-79. “A shift of six votes would have condemned the Constitution to oblivion.”

Thomas Jefferson

While in France, Jefferson experienced a peculiar epiphany. He became a fan of the erupting French Revolution and the ideas that animated it.

What was happening to the American envoy? He was having a conversion experience. With no traditional religious faith to balance his intellect and emotions, politics became Thomas Jeffersonâ€s religion. The cause of liberty, sustained by his belief in the essential goodness of human beings, became his chief article of faith.

Jefferson wrote to Madison suggesting that the central idea might be useful to the new government.

What was this huge idea? The earth belongs to the living. Jefferson declared the principle as self-evident: no man has power or right over his money or property after his death. It “ceases to be his when himself ceases to be, and reverts to the society. Debt contracted by the dead person should also be cancelled.” …Why should they be obliged to repay the debts of the previous generation? They were also under no obligation to obey laws that the previous generation may have passed in a legislature or enshrined in a constitution. “Every constitution…and every law, naturally expires at the end of nineteen years…if it be enforced longer, it is an act of force and not of right.” The only true test of government is to support the will of the majority of the next generation.

Would Madison have had second thoughts had he received Jeffersonâ€s letter before sending Washingtonâ€s offer of secretary of state? Madison responded with a gentle but detailed refutation of Jeffersonâ€s “huge idea.”

Jefferson never replied to Madison’s letter. But he also never abandoned his idea that the earth belongs to the living, and its corollary, the overriding importance of majority rule. From the perspective of 200–plus years, it is obvious that the two men had very different political philosophies.

But, although Madison admired Washington and worked closely with him, their association never reached the level of his friendship with Jefferson. The sickly, diminutive and unprepossessing Madison was the opposite of the tall, handsome, and charming master of Monticello. Jefferson mentored Madison in the Virginia House of Delegates and Madison became his valued advisor when Jefferson was governor. In 1776, the two began what was to become a 40-year correspondence.

It is those letters that Fleming cites above all other sources as instrumental in writing The Great Divide. He credits The Republic of Letters, the Correspondence Between Thomas Jefferson and James Madison (1776 – 1826) as “beyond and in some ways above these estimable volumes. …Nothing can approach the revelations I have acquired from reading and rereading these pages.”

They reveal that Jefferson was a man whose principles were constantly at war with his character and ambition. He embraced the ideology of the French Revolution with as much fervor as he loathed England. Both obsessions caused him to champion policies that were detached from reality and to engage in activities bordering on treasonous. His perfidy in the “Citizen” Genet affair is one example. Jeffersonâ€s support of the French Revolution included defending the reign of terror and the mass executions.

His personal goals were to become president; to reshape the Constitution to conform to his ideology; and to eclipse George Washington. Jeffersonâ€s great failing was that he was incapable of admitting error. Or he deluded himself as much as he sought to delude others. One of the deluded was his faithful correspondent James Madison.

Jefferson and Madison

The event that opened the rift between Madison and Washington was Hamiltonâ€s Bank of the United States. Jefferson and Madison vehemently opposed the bank as an institution designed to enrich the wealthy. The president saw it as a dynamic commercial force that would help unite the country. But Jefferson envisioned a nation of farmers as the best guardians of liberty. Thanks to them, the nation would demonstrate the perfectibility of human nature. “This utopian faith was at the root of his passionate support of the French Revolution, as well as his determination to keep the supposed corruptions of commerce out of America’s future.”

So began the pairâ€s undermining of Washington’s presidency. That effort included providing radical newsman Philip Freneau a job in Jeffersonâ€s office. Neither Madison nor Jefferson hesitated to provide Freneau with a government salary so he could found a paper “to attack the administration in which his patron was supposedly a loyal partner.”

Jeffersonâ€s influence over Madison continued to increase, as did Freneauâ€s attacks on Hamilton and Washington. Even after supposedly retiring from politics, Jefferson used Madison and James Monroe to discredit Washington. But Washington proved both the better man and the more astute politician.

After Washington

Fleming chronicles Jeffersonâ€s conduct as vice president in President John Adamâ€s administration and Jefferson and Madison presidencies. Space does not permit more than cursory exploration of these events in a review that is already too long.

President Jefferson

Jeffersonâ€s presidency was a disaster for the nation and almost for his himself. Calling his presidency, “The Revolution of 1800,” he set out to do almost everything differently from Washington. Among other measures, he cancelled all internal taxes and reduced appropriations and salaries for the army and navy. Both would prove disastrous. His reputation and popularity were saved by the Louisiana Purchase. Fleming expounds at length on the circumstances attending the Purchase, an event for which Jefferson took credit he little deserved. It did get him a second term.

Buoyed by his popularity, he overreached. He tried and failed to impeach Justice Samuel Chase on bogus charges and to destroy the Supreme Court. Harlow Giles Ungerâ€s book, John Marshall, reviewed here, also provides an account of these events.

When his flawed foreign policies backfired, Jefferson pushed the Embargo Act through Congress. It forbid American ships to trade with Britain, France, and every other nation. When the economy ground to a halt and a public uproar ensued, Jefferson passed the buck: ”It will rest with the wisdom of Congress to decide on the course best adapted to such a state of things,” he said.

These were the words that President George Washington would never have spoken. He had seen what the wisdom of Congress produced in the American Revolution – disorganization, bankruptcy, and imminent defeat. It was why he and James Madison had created the office of the president – to offset the inability of legislative bodies to govern. Here was the fatal flaw of the ideologue who love to legislate but not to enforce, implement, lead.

When the controversy became too great, Jefferson retreated. “Well before the end of his second term, he virtually withdrew from the duties and responsibilities of high office.” He repealed the Embargo on the last day of his presidency. So ended the Revolution of 1800, but not Jeffersonâ€s efforts to turn the noble principle of equality under the law, enshrined in the Declaration of Independence, into an endorsement of economic leveling and human perfectibility.

President Madison

It was not until the final year of Madisonâ€s presidency that he rejected Jeffersonâ€s advice and the policies that were so detrimental to the nation.

If we include the vigorous leadership President Madison gave Congress in his final year in office and his embrace of the Bank of the United States, internal taxes, and protective tariff, it is no exaggeration to say bad experience, that best of all teachers, forced James Madison to rethink his long devotion to President Thomas Jefferson and reconsider his once angry opposition to President George Washington.

Tellingly, Madison never castigated Jefferson in these reversals. Apparently, he could not find it in his heart to do so.

The Great Divide

Thomas Fleming has written an absorbing and intriguing book. His extensive research reveals much that has been neglected by other historians. In making these revelations, Fleming does not conceal his dislike for Jefferson or his admiration for George Washington. Until recently, historians ignored Washingtonâ€s accomplishments as president, often portraying him as a kind of cardboard figure, favored by luck and brilliant associates. Jeffersonâ€s history of Washingtonâ€s administration, written after he retired to Monticello, was instrumental in advancing that view.

This reviewer shares Flemingâ€s admiration of Washington, but has read too much about the public and personal Jefferson to maintain objectivity. The brilliant, inconstant James Madison, to whom we owe so much, remains a puzzle and a reminder that the men we revere as Founders were real people. They were extraordinarily intelligent, gifted, and dedicated, but imperfect as are all human kind. In that spirit, Fleming quotes from Jeffersonâ€s gift of inspiring words and begs readers to “summon forgiveness and rueful––or better, sympathetic ––admiration for this deeply conflicted man.”

This reader would find that easier to achieve if the pernicious ideology that blinded Jefferson did not still haunt the halls of power.

The Fox and The Hound has a picture of General George Washington and General Charles Cornwallis on the front cover.   Another British General, Henry Clinton is said to have referred to the wily Washington as a fox because of the numerous occasions that Washington narrowly escaped his grasp – crossing rivers in the dead of night.  He may also have thought Washington a fox because of the amount of disinformation that the father of our country managed to put over on him.  Cornwallis, on the other hand, had to deal with another master of disinformation – one of Washingtonâ€s protegeâ€s Nathaniel Greene, and he formed a similar opinion of Greene.

While Washingtonâ€s role in this book is certainly at the forefront in parts, Markle has really documented the birth of American spying as his subtitle suggests.  There was a lot more intelligence gathering going on during the Revolution than just what was being produced by the Culper spy ring around NY.

At one point Markle explains that the term spy had several different meaning and was used loosely during the American Revolution.  Spying could be a term for scouting, in which enemy intelligence may or may not have been an objective.  Sometimes the meaning of spy was what the contemporary usage implies.  The Culper ring run by Benjamin Tallmadge were such.  There are even documented cases where the British employed scout/spies to mislead American groups as during Benedict Arnoldâ€s Quebec campaign early in the war.  Arnoldâ€s troops wandered around the swampy forests of the North East for months because of the brutally successful efforts of the British to mislead them.

Intelligence gathering, counterintelligence, the use of propaganda, and spying all got their start in America, in large part due to the efforts of Washington and his recognition of their importance.  Markle points out at the onset of his book:

Even though the world of intelligence now has developed into a very complex and multifaceted discipline, the basic tenets established by Washington remain the basis of American intelligence efforts today.

Because of the unique nature of the United States, perhaps it was only natural that these independent colonies/states would tend to produce a very loose and decentralized organizational structure for their intelligence gathering capabilities.  In some respects this mirrored the Articles of Confederation.

Markle makes a couple of observations concerning this.  At the beginning of the war at least, this decentralization helped the Americans act upon and disseminate intelligence effectively.   The more centralized British efforts lacked local resources to handle certain intelligence related tasks.

For example, if the British obtained a copy of a rebel enciphered document, that document had to be sent to to England for decryption.  General Gage and his replacement, General Charles Cornwallis, had no capability to perform the task on this side of the Atlantic for the entire period of the war…

This was a big disadvantage, and serves as an example of the consequences of centralized command and control for the British.  Markle observes:

The major downfall of the British was the centralized system of intelligence which required all information to be reported to the upper levels of command, often resulting in irrelevant information.  When George Washington created a decentralized command structure, he wisely allowed his departmental commanders liberties to conduct intelligence operations independent of the Main Army. 

Secondly, by decentralizing the management of intelligence, such intelligence was consumed where it was needed and time was not wasted – specifically Washingtonâ€s time – on matters that were of no concern to his immediate situation.  It might also be said that this decentralized approach resulted in compartmentalization – in todayâ€s terms “need to know.”  By carefully controlling who knew the identities of those spying – these people were better protected from potential leaks.   As was mentioned in the review of George Washington’s Secret Six, Benedict Arnoldâ€s attempts to get the identities of American spies before defecting to the British were stymied because of this fact.

Perhaps it was for this reason that Markle chose to organize his book as he did.  The Fox and The Hound covers each geographical department separately, rather than providing a chronological overview of intelligence and counterintelligence throughout the war as whole, although there is some bleed over between departments.  This forms the basis for the only minor criticism this review has to offer.  Because of this organizational scheme the book seemed a bit disjointed in some respects.  But this could be simply because most of the histories and biographies reviewed on WWTFT are written in a chronological fashion.

Regardless of this quibble, The Fox and The Hound is chock full of interesting and often tantalizing facts which engender in the reader a desire to find out more about the people and events covered.  For instance Markle mentions that John Jay has become known as the first Chief of Counter Intelligence in the United States.  Unbeknownst to this reader, John Jay had a brother who also played a part in American counterintelligence.

… the Continental Army received a technological boost from a unique source — an American doctor and chemist, Dr. James Jay, who was living in London at the time.  He was the brother of John Jay, the American revolutionist.

In 1775, Dr. Jay, who had been knighted by George III in 1763, began to use his skills as a chemist to develop a new form of invisible ink for the use of the Continental Army in America.  His goal was to develop an ink that would not appear through the heat process and thereby make it very secure.  After many experiments Dr. Jay succeeded in his task and sent some of the fluids to his brother John in America.

The new ink which Dr. Jay called “sympathetic ink,” consisted of one fluid for writing (known as an agent) and one fluid to bring the invisible text to light (known as the reagent).  Dr. Jayâ€s exact ingredients are unknown; however, there is one sympathetic ink of the period (similar to that of Dr. Jay) for which the ingredients are known.  It consisted of gallic acid combined with acacia.  Both of these ingredients were in rare supply at the time, making duplication of the ink difficult.  Together they did produce the proper color when used with a reagent which could have been ferrate sulphate dissolved in distilled water.  It was recommended that fresh white paper be used to write upon.  To reveal the text, the paper was brushed with the reagent using a very fine hair brush — too heavy an application would blur the letters.

There are numerous other “Persons of Interest” who make an appearance in this book, both on the British and the American side.  Markle does a good job in whetting the readerâ€s interest.

With the war won, many thought Washington could and would be king. However, he turned in his commission to the Continental Congress and retired to civilian life, drawing many comparisons to the fabled Cincinnatus of Roman times.

December 23, 1783

The great events on which my resignation depended having at length taken place; I have now the honor of offering my sincere Congratulations to Congress and of presenting myself before them to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the Service of my Country.

Happy in the confirmation of our Independence and Sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becoming a respectable Nation, I resign with satisfaction the Appointment I accepted with diffidence. A diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which however was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our Cause, the support of the Supreme Power of the Union, and the patronage of Heaven.

The Successful termination of the War has verified the most sanguine expectations, and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have received from my Countrymen, increases with every review of the momentous Contest.

While I repeat my obligations to the Army in general, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to acknowledge in this place the peculiar Services and distinguished merits of the Gentlemen who have been attached to my person during the War. It was impossible the choice of confidential Officers to compose my family should have been more fortunate. Permit me Sir, to recommend in particular those, who have continued in Service to the present moment, as worthy of the favorable notice and patronage of Congress.

I consider it an indispensable duty to close this last solemn act of my Official life, by commending the Interests of our dearest Country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them, to his holy keeping.

Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of Action; and bidding an Affectionate farewell to this August body under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my Commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.

Mr. President is Ungerâ€s best book to date.  Unger doesnâ€t make a single faulty step in his project to show how Washington framed the office of the President.  His research shows through in his writing and he supports his contentions with footnotes as well as logic.  Unger credits  Dr. John P. Kaminsky at the onset, for his help on the project.  Kaminsky is a scholar of some considerable renown that this reviewer had the honor of interviewing a few years ago.   In any case, this, like each of the last several of Ungerâ€s books has been better than the last.

In Mr. President, Unger manages to synthesize a lot of information in a relatively short space.  Despite its brevity, the reader never feels rushed, or that some important facet of Washingtonâ€s life and character might have been glossed over.  It is interesting to read Ungerâ€s book in conjunction with  Ray Raphaelâ€s Mr.President (reviewed here) and Logan Bierneâ€s The Blood of Tyrants (reviewed here).

All three books have the stated objective of showing how Washingtonâ€s actions framed the office of the President for successors.  Raphaelâ€s book is most similar in the sense that it focuses on the legal boundaries of the Executive Branch, first consentrating on the Constitutional Convention and the wrangling over the particulars of presidential authority, and then on some of Washingtonâ€s actions while in office.  Bierneâ€s book devotes more attention to Washingtonâ€s actions as Commander in Chief, even prior to his election as president under the new Constitution.  But Ungerâ€s book methodically and almost ruthlessly lays out a supremely well organized depiction of how Washington defined the Executive in his two terms.

Unger contends that Washington established 7 principle pillars of presidential authority.  These are:

1. Foreign Policy
2. Executive Appointments
3. Government Finances
4. Military Affairs
5. Legislation by Proclamation and Executive Order
6. Federal Law Enforcement
7. Executive Privilege

Mr. President deftly illustrates how and why each of these pillars was erected by Washington.  Some were partly the product of Washingtonâ€s character and his impatience for action, but all were motivated by genuine concern and interest in the well-being of the United States.  There is nothing smacking of hagiography in Mr. President, although much of what Unger depicts is evidence of an admirable life.  Despite this not being a massive tome, its author manages to include interesting bits of information, here and there, throughout the book, that give some flavor to who Washington was.  For instance, Washington had a substantial library that included a variety of the best books of his day.  These books were frequently annotated in Washingtonâ€s own handwriting, indicating that he had actively read and engaged with their subject matter.  Some biographers slight Washingtonâ€s intellectual capacity.  Unger is not one of those.

However, Mr. Unger doesnâ€t pull any punches as he explains the circumstances of Washingtonâ€s various ‘usurpations†of power.  (Various and sundry other Founders accused Washington of just that – like George Mason) For example, with regard to the authority of the President and the Executive Branch to make foreign policy, the Constitution stipulates that the Senate has the right to advise and consent.  After an awkward exchange between Washington and the Senate, Washington resolved to interpret that stipulation as meaning that the President could conduct foreign policy on his own, and was free to disregard the advice of the Senate if he chose.  The Senate would still retain the power to ratify any treaties made, but would henceforth have no role in constructing them.

Similarly, it was Washington who, after trying to be all-inclusive with his first cabinet (including political adversary Thomas Jefferson), and failing miserably, mandated that those in the executive branch would serve at the presidentâ€s pleasure.  As Truman put it, the buck would stop at his desk.  Thenceforth, Washington would consider his cabinet as advisers at best, but in reality as lieutenants obligated to do his bidding.

Some of Washingtonâ€s usurpations may have been absolutely necessary and beneficial to the country at first, but in retrospect have proven to be among the most harmful to its liberty and stability.  Washington lent his authority and support to Hamiltonâ€s pet project, The Bank of The United States.  At the time, itâ€s doubtful any other action could have so firmly established the credit and economy of the fledgling republic.  However, what this meant was that the Executive Branch, through the Treasury, via its ability to borrow on the credit of the United States,  could bypass Congress entirely when spending government funds.  Today, the United States is more that $18 Trillion in debt, and deficit spending continues unabated and unchecked.

Many of Washingtonâ€s successors have continued and expanded on the powers the first  president carved out for the Executive Branch.  While the Constitution stipulates that Congress has the power to declare war, raise and support armies, and provide for the common defense, it is the president who is charged with waging war.  When faced with Indian uprisings, Washington didnâ€t wait for Congress but unilaterally dispatched troops.*  (Washington was a man of action.)  Unger points out:

Of more than a dozen wars that the United States have waged with other nations, Congress has issued formal declarations of war in but five of them — against Britain in the War of 1812, Mexico in 1846, Spain in 1898, Germany and Austria Hungary in World War I, and Japan and Germany in World War II.  A presidential order sent the nation into all other conflicts.

It might have been Washingtonâ€s military background that made him impatient, when Congress moved too slowly to suit him. Whatever the cause, Washington saw fit to issue edicts that carried the force of law, and which entirely bypassed the legislative authority of Congress.  Even before the Jay Treaty with Britain was ratified by the Senate, Washington issued a neutrality proclamation that became, in essence, the law of the land.  Subsequent presidents, like Mr. Obama, have made much use of this power, and have been much less chary of its abuse.

Executive Privilege was established by Washington in the aftermath of the Jay Treaty.  Although there is no mention of such a concept in the Constitution, Washington established it as a bedrock principle.   His argument was on the basis of needing to retain the boundaries between the branches of government – although there is nothing in the Constitution defining this separation of powers.

In addition to setting countless precedents for all future presidents, Washington also created international precedents.  For instance, Washingtonâ€s Neutrality Proclamation established a new principle of international law as well as American Constitutional Law.

— namely, the concept of neutrality and the rights of non-participating nations in wartime.   Although rules abounded governing relations between warring nations, the world had ignored the rights of neutrals until George Washington raised the issue.

According to Ungerâ€s footnote, the rest of the world wouldnâ€t catch up with Washington on this for more than half a century.

Not until 1856, with the Declaration of Paris, would the worldâ€s leading maritime powers agree to codify the rights of neutrals and belligerents on the high seas.  The Hague Conventions of 1908 added further clarifications and codifications of the rights and obligations of neutrals.

If Unger is successful in showing the consequences of Washingtonâ€s actions, he is even more so in showing the character behind them.

In a delightful description of Washington standing awkwardly before the Senate asking “Do you advise and consent?” to a trade treaty negotiated with the Creek Indians, neither party knew precisely what to do.  When Congress elected to give it some consideration, Washington left red-faced.

Rather than waiting for the Senateâ€s committee “to determine the mode of communication between the President and the Senate on Treaties and Nominations,” Washington resolved the issue himself.

“… resolving to remove certain executive functions from the legislatureâ€s control. “

Washington figured the executive could negotiate the treaties and the Senate could decide whether or not to ratify them.  But they certainly werenâ€t going to be involved prior to that.   The same would be true for presidential nominations.  Washingtonâ€s laconic statement is worth quoting.

“It could be no pleasing thing, I conceive,” Washington scolded the Senate, “for the President to … hear the propriety of his nominations questioned …. As the President has a right to nominate without assigning his reasons, so has the Senate a right to dissent, without giving there’s.”

In other words, take it or leave it.

Mr. President depicts a Washington who,

… from the moment he took office in the spring of 1789, … he had been obsessed with establishing the President as “a supreme power to govern the concerns of a confederated republic.”  Fearing anarchy, disunion, and an end to American Freedom, if he failed to act decisively, he transformed himself — and the presidency — from a relatively impotent figurehead into Americaâ€s most powerful leader, creating what modern scholars have called the “imperial presidency.”

Unger clearly illustrates how the first Executive addressed as Mr. President, transformed the office in ways that have consequences even today.

*Unger relates how “Mad” Anthony Wayne achieved victory over the British-supported Indians by pausing to learn about them before engaging with them.  These indians were holed up in a wooden fort in the wilderness, waiting for Wayne to engage.  Despite his eccentricity, Wayne was a smart guy.    He discovered that the Indians he was fighting always fasted before a battle.   So, he encamped several miles away and waited … and waited …After 4 days, the Indians in the fort were weakened from hunger and a large number of them left to go hunting for food.  It was at this point that Wayne attacked, took the fort, and renamed it Fort Wayne!

Sons of The Father is a collection of essays written mostly by academic historians.  The scholarship of the authors is readily apparent in the quality of the writing.  But the essays were not the dry academic prose one might expect from snooty academics.  They were uniformly interesting and each culminated in a very useful bibliography tied to the footnotes that the writers used to support their various theses.

The Sons metaphorically referred to in the title are ten men who were greatly influenced by George Washington. All but one of them knew him personally.  The outlier was Captain Robert Kirkwood.  Kirkwood was a Revolutionary War hero, and a gallant and brave soldier in the United States Army during Washingtonâ€s first administration.  He exemplified the esprit de corps that Washington successfully instilled in the cadre of junior officers who served under him.  He is one of two men featured in the book (other than Washington himself), who genuinely provide unequivocal examples of what it means to be a man of honor.  This reviewerâ€s interest was definitely piqued after learning something of Kirkwood from Thomas Riderâ€s excellent limn.  Rider was at the forefront of countless battles during the Revolution and was killed fighting British sponsored Indians in Indiana during Washingtonâ€s presidency.  According to Riderâ€s account, Kirkwood led by example and took Washingtonâ€s directives seriously for establishing a professional corps. The men he led formed an  elite group of partisan soldiers who were indispensable.  Rider explains:

Partisans of the 18th century were not necessarily guerrilla fighters or irregulars as they are today.  American partisan detachments frequently consisted of irregulars, to include light infantry and light cavalry.  Sometimes rifleman and other militia augmented the Continentals.  In order to move rapidly over great distances and act independently of the main army, the men in these units had to possess an even higher state of discipline than the average Continental, and the officers had to have the ability to exercise initiative, sometimes independently of supervision by superior officers.  The light forces Kirkwood served with excelled at reconnaissance, foraging, raids against enemy detachments, intimidation of loyalists, and covering force operations for the main army.  From October 1780 through January 1782, Kirkwood and his men performed these missions, usually as part of a larger part partisan force, but sometimes as an independent, company-sized detachment.

Kirkwood was furloughed from the army in January of 1782.  But, after marrying and starting a family, his wife died a few short years later in 1787.  At this point, Kirkwood moved west for a new start.  But when the Indians threatened his new home (instigated by the British), “he resumed the role for which he had been so well suited in the Revolution — that of infantry company commander.”

Kirkwood fell under the command of the ill-fated Arthur St. Clair and died on the banks of the Wabash River.

Henry Lee described Kirkwoodâ€s final moments: “The gallant Kirkwood fell, bravely sustaining his point of the action.  It was the thirty-third time he had risked his life for his country; and he died as he had lived, the brave, meritorious, unrewarded, Kirkwood.”

The other man covered in this book (other than Washington) who, in this reviewerâ€s opinion, deserves unqualified admiration, defeated the Indians who slaughtered St. Clairâ€s army.  His name was “Mad” Anthony Wayne.

It is because of Anthony Wayne that this book made it to the top of this reviewerâ€s reading queue.  It was reading about his performance in the battle against the Indians that killed Kirkwood that heightened interest in Sons of The Father. (Refer to the footnote in the upcoming review of Harlow Giles Ungerâ€s Mr. President.)

As it turns out, this episode in Wayneâ€s life was only the tip of the iceberg.  Ironically, although Wayne practically worshipped Washington and served him exceedingly well, he was never truly appreciated by his commander.  Nevertheless, Wayne revered him.

Mary Stockwell paints a poignant and melancholy picture of a man who sacrificed everything for his country.  Washington certainly recognized Wayneâ€s talents, but his opinions of the man were colored by an unfortunate set of circumstances in the two menâ€s lives.  Wayne had a young family and a wife that grew less and less tolerant of his prolonged absences during the Revolutionary War.  At one particular point, after taking on many thankless tasks for his commander, always without complaint or question, Wayneâ€s family was disintegrating and he hadnâ€t seen his children in years.  When Wayne approached Washington about a brief leave of absence, Washington was unimpressed and angry.  Wayne didnâ€t know it, but Washington had just lost his stepson and had been unable to attend his funeral.

This one instance apparently colored Washingtonâ€s perception of Wayneâ€s devotion to the cause.  Washington didnâ€t grant the request, instead sending him to fight in the South.  Wayne did his duty and went on to become very successful in dealing with a real mess in Georgia, but not before almost being killed by a surprise attack of Creek Indians.  The fighting in the South was brutal and Wayne never fully recovered from it.

Wayne survived the war on the southern frontier and went on to retake Georgia from the loyalists.  He rejoined the rest of the Army in South Carolina and helped win that state from the British.  While he became a hero in the eyes of many Southerners especially, the cost to his own life could hardly be counted.  He never fully recovered in mind and body from the trauma of Georgia, and forever remembered that this campaign made him “satiate with this horrid trade of blood.”  His letters from Georgia, especially to the wife whom he lost emotionally forever in this campaign, are moving, dramatic, and even poetic.

There is much more than this, of course, than can be covered in a review.  Stockwell does a fantastic job with her depiction of Wayne and, for this alone the book is worth reading.

Not all of the “sons” featured in the book get as sympathetic a treatment as do Wayne and Kirkwood.   Jefferson doesnâ€t fare too well.  While no one would deny Jeffersonâ€s contributions to the founding of the United States, in the opinion of this reviewer, as person, his character sometimes left a lot to be desired.  In this, perhaps Brian Steele, the author of the essay on Jefferson featured in Sons of The Father, would probably agree.  The picture he paints of Jefferson is one of unalloyed political ambition.  He shows how Jefferson sought to trade on Washingtonâ€s fame and popularity after his death and to shape him into something he probably wasnâ€t.  Recognizing that Washington was perhaps synonymous with the Federalist party, Jefferson cleverly recast him as non-partisan, and small “r” republican through and through.  One is reminded of modern attempts to cast Ronald Reagan as bi-partisan.

While it is true that Washington tried to reconcile the differences between the two strongest personalities in his first cabinet, Jefferson and Hamilton, Hamilton won the day with his arguments.  Ultimately, Washington could no longer put up with Jeffersonâ€s backstabbing and sneaky ways.  Jefferson resigned and went back to Monticello to lick his wounds and plot.

If this seems unfair, read this essay!

James Monroe  isnâ€t portrayed as harshly as Jefferson, but he also is looked at under a fairly bright light.  Itâ€s interesting to read this essay in contrast with the somewhat hagiographical account given by Harlow Giles Unger (reviewed here.)  This isnâ€t to say that Monroe wasnâ€t a good guy, but there was an awful lot that Unger left out.  The essay featured in Sons of The Father by William M. Ferrraro is perhaps a bit more balanced.

All the essays in this book were excellent and this reviewer was surprised at their depth and quality, given their relative brevity.  The unifying theme is, of course, Washington himself.  The reader gets a broad perspective on the man through the eyes of those he influenced.  All of the men covered in this book respected Washington and recognized a rare greatness. Some of them sought to emulate that greatness, but all were influenced by him.

For recent public school graduates, Mount Vernon is the former home of George Washington. The Mount Vernon Ladies†Association owns it. It receives no federal funding and has been operated by the private non-profit for more than 150 years.

But these are merely inconvenient details. The regimeâ€s purpose is to cause the greatest possible disruption and inconvenience so a way was found to make it difficult for the public to visit Mount Vernon. The parking lots are co-owned by the National Park Service so the NPR was directed to barricade them. The lots, of course, require no maintenance unless the regime thinks snow is imminent. Hiking and biking paths are also blocked, as are the areas where buses turned around when they still had tourists to deliver.

Ditto the Claude Moore Colonial Farm. The educational facility was federally operated until the 1980s when it was cut from the federal budget and a local non-profit took over, paying 80% of its operation.  As of Oct 1 the group took over 100% of operating costs to keep the facility open for school groups and others who want to experience an authentic colonial farm. But the farm was closed because it is on federal land. Never mind that it costs the government absolutely nothing for the farm to stay open. Saving money is not the issue.

NPS officers also have been stationed along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal to make sure no one uses the now forbidden bike paths. That it would have been less expensive to keep the paths open is beside the point. Similarly, barricades have been put around tiny Marion Park in Washington, D.C., where children come to play on the popular fake turtles.

As POWERLINE points out, “The Obama Administration dispatched more security guards to prevent WW II veterans from visiting the wide open WW II memorial on the Mall than it stationed in Benghazi, notwithstanding the American Ambassadorâ€s pleas for better security.”

Obama has other priorities.

The appellation “Obama Administration” is outdated. Obama Regime is more accurate. Regimes unlike constitutional governments, rule by imposition and by fiat: If the emperor/king doesnâ€t like a law, he refuses to enforce it. If there is no law to do his bidding, he conjures up a regulation to do what he wants done. The wishes and prerogatives of the regime take precedence over the wants and needs of those it perceives as its subjects. Sound familiar?

Harry Reid gave the game away when he said he wasnâ€t interested in the Republican sponsored Research for Lifesaving Cures Act, which would have ensured funding for the National Institutes of Health during the shut down. CNN reporter Dana Lash asked: “But if you can help one child who has cancer why wouldnâ€t you do it?” Reid replied, “Why should we want to do that?” And he went on to chastise Lash for asking the question, calling her as “irresponsible and reckless” as the Republicans he was busy bashing.

Slandering Republicans is what the shut down is all about. It is why Emperor Obama and his dynasty refuse to negotiate. It is why they refuse to keep the NIH open; refuse to delay Obama Careâ€s for even one year, despite the on-going train wreck of enrollment; and why Obama, Reid and company wonâ€t assent to deleting the job and innovation killing medical devices tax from the law.

In Harry Reidâ€s words: “Why should we want to do that?” The Democrats are betting that they, and their sycophants in the media, can persuade the public that Republicans are at fault for the shut down and the disruption and inconvenience that resulted. In their scenario, the Democrats would take control of both houses of Congress in the 2014 election. They would then be free to do what they think is “good” for the country without the bother of having to pretend to care about what their subjects think. They apparently believe that the electorate is too stupid to notice that Emperor Obama is the one who refuses to negotiate to end the shut down. (After all, they elected him twice.)

There is a certain appropriate symbolism to the attempt to close George Washingtonâ€s home. The man known as the Father of His Country would be appalled at the transformation of the Founders†constitutional government into a regime and the continuing efforts to turn citizens into subjects.