On Saturday, the United States of America will celebrate 250 years of independence. In a slightly ironic twist, I will be attending an ordination that weekend in… Great Britain. (Scotland, to be precise.) Don’t worry: I’m not going Loyalist, and, if anyone asks, my opposition to taxation without representation remains undimmed. It is, nonetheless, an occasion worth celebrating.
Declaring independence was a bold gamble for the colonists, with no guarantee of success; winning that independence was a work of tenacity and perseverance. Founding institutions that would produce two and a half centuries of stable and broadly just governance in the uncertain years that that followed independence is perhaps an even more remarkable achievement.
We Americans are fortunate to have a Constitution designed to keep the ship of state afloat even when unwholesome individuals wield the levers of power, but that first generation of Americans didn’t have that luxury. In those first years of American independence, without the stability of established republican precedents or even a firm national identity, things could easily have gone wrong. The murderous course of the French Revolution a few years later is a reminder of how badly can one can go even when shouting “Liberty!”
As I’ve argued before, Americans owe a lot to George Washington, who provided leadership that was remarkable, above all, for its integrity. Washington was no military genius but where he stood above the other figures of his age–what made him the greatest man of his century–was his character. As a general, he stayed steady even in defeat. His leadership was marked by patience, courage, and steady resolve. He learned how to hold his emotions–his temper was volcanic–in check. He put his country before personal ambitions, not just in word, but in deed as well. He showed a scrupulous respect for the rule of law; as commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, he always deferred to the Continental Congress, even when tactically inconvenient. And, of course, he relinquished power, resigning his command at the end of the War of Independence and retiring to Mount Vernon after two presidential terms.
Those who met Washington were almost invariably impressed by his manners, decency, and presence. Today he seems, perhaps, a somewhat distant figure, but he judged–rightly, in my view–that a certain amount of reserve was what the young nation needed in order to remain united. Washington’s biographers agree that his self-control was learned, something he labored to develop over the course of his lifetime.
One of the sources for the young Washington’s program of character formation, I recently learned, came from the Jesuits. Because of the death of his father, Washington was unable to travel to London for schooling and had to rely on what tutoring and instruction was available in Virginia. Several of the young Washington’s notebooks survive, and in one of them he copied out twenty pages of Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior. According to Washington biographer Willard Sterne Randall, these 110 rules comprised “the complete text of a sixteenth-century training manual prepared by French Jesuits for young noblemen.”
These rules included both manners–cover your mouth when you cough, don’t talk with your mouth full–and more substantive injunctions, such as avoiding flattery and never rejoicing in the misfortunes of others, even of one’s enemies. Washington’s well-noted efforts to control and channel his passions is explained by Rule 58: “In all causes of passion admit reason to govern.” Also, Rule 73: “Think before you speak.” As Randall puts it, “The Jesuit rules were to become a catechism to Washington, not only a code of conduct that he followed more faithfully than religious doctrine, but his own self-teaching school for manners.”
Number 110 remains a gem: “labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience.”
The success or failure of the next 250 years may depend on how well Americans and their leaders are able to return to and follow George Washington’s wise Jesuit advice.
Subscribe now to this blog for weekly email updates:
Tony Lusvardi, S.J. 