When an American president speaks, it is heard around the world. Their words of wisdom are just as applicable to our everyday conversations.
Be Open-Minded
When he said, “I don’t like that man. I must get to know him better,” Abraham Lincoln understood that one’s instinctive dislike of someone might have been formed in ignorance. In actually conversing, you might discover a good friend.
Uplift and Inspire
James Monroe believed, “A little flattery will support a man through great fatigue.” Start conversations with a compliment, particularly when you are meeting someone new; this goes a long way in diffusing any conversational tension or apprehension the other person may have.
Silent Messages
Long before the term “body language” was coined, George Washington understood the importance of mannerisms in conveying information: “Let your countenance be pleasant but in serious matters somewhat grave.” Make sure your facial expressions, body posture, and gestures are appropriate to the topic under discussion.
Keep a Clear Head
Stay calm; this is key to accurately reading and interpreting both verbal and nonverbal communication and understanding what the person is really saying. As Thomas Jefferson advised, “When angry, count to 10 before you speak; if very angry, a hundred.”
Heart of the Matter
The content of your words, conveyed with sincerity and integrity, matters more than any particular technique. Take it from Ronald Reagan, “the Great Communicator,” who said: “I wasn’t a great communicator, but I communicated great things, and they didn’t spring full bloom from my brow—they came from the heart of a great nation.”
Located on 2,650 acres in Orange County, Va., Montpelier was once the family home of James Madison. (Courtesy of Montpelier)
“Knowledge will forever govern ignorance: And a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power which knowledge gives,” wrote President James Madison.
For six months, the “Father of the Constitution” sequestered himself in his upstairs study in the family’s Virginia home, Montpelier. There, he engaged in an intensive study of civilizations—both ancient and modern—in his quest for wisdom in shaping the Constitution of a young republic. Here, he synopsized his ideas into principles he felt essential for a representative democracy: what would be known as the “Virginia Plan,” which would become the basis for creating our Constitution.
James Madison would always remember the day, as a youth of 14, when his family moved into the fine brick Georgian house. In fact, he helped carry in the furniture. His father, James Madison Sr., built the symmetrical house in Flemish bond (patterned brick) in the 1760s. It had a center hall and four rooms on the first floor and five rooms on the second. Crowning the house was a low hipped shingle roof with chimneys on both ends. James Madison, “Father of the Constitution” and fourth president, would consider Montpelier his home for the duration of his life.
Miniature bust portrait of James Madison by Charles Willson Peale, 1783. (Courtesy of Montpelier)
Returning from Philadelphia, Madison brought his wife Dolley to his family’s Montpelier home in 1797. Seventeen years her senior, James Madison had married the recently widowed Dolley and adopted her son, John Payne Todd, three years prior. At Montpelier, the Madisons added a 30-foot addition to the house, creating a very fine multigenerational duplex, with separate living quarters for each generation. The older and younger Madisons would visit each other by way of the grand Tuscan portico that was added to the house at the time. It covered the two distinct entrance doors to each family’s part of the dwelling. There was no interior passage between them.
A careful examination of the facade reveals the place where the addition was joined to the original house, tying in the new brick to the original corner. Madison’s mother Nellie continued to live in the house following the death of James Sr. in 1801.
The younger James Madison had served in Congress, and he formerly “retired” from public service when he and Dolley moved to Montpelier. In 1801, Madison’s good friend Thomas Jefferson appointed him secretary of state. He served in that capacity until 1809, when he was elected president. During the next eight years, he and Dolley would serve as president and first lady, living in the President’s House until it was burned by the British in August 1814. After restoration, when the charred sandstone exterior was painted, the presidential mansion became the “White House.”
The classical temple at Montpelier, designed by James Madison, housed a 24-foot ice well. (Courtesy of Montpelier)
In 1809, Madison took some of his $25,000-a-year salary as president and began expanding Montpelier. He added one-story wings on either end of the house. On the south side, he created an apartment for his mother. On the north side, he built a library for his 4,000-volume collection. Thomas Jefferson designed a new grand entry door at the center of the mansion, which led into the Drawing Room, where the former president greeted visitors. Comparable to the hall of Jefferson’s Monticello, Madison’s Drawing Room became a showcase for his interests and ideals. It was designed to make a powerful impression.
According to historian Michael Quinn, Madison’s Drawing Room was intended to be a history lesson: “For Madison, the history of humanity was really his laboratory—and he had studied past attempts at self-government—so he knew that what America was today was founded on the past.” Prominently hung on the wall is a large painting featuring a Pan figure and a nymph, painted by Gerrit Van Honthorst around 1630. This 17th-century Dutch painting became a reference to the Greek and Roman world and the beginning of democracy. Next to it is a large painting of the “Supper at Emmaus,” a reference to the time when Biblical ideals informed the affairs of men.
According to Quinn, the final epoch of America’s foundation is represented by the series of presidential portraits arranged in a group. Washington’s portrait is alone at the top. Below are portraits of John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Monroe: the first president above the second, third, and fifth presidents. Quinn attributes Madison’s omission of his portrait in sequence, between Jefferson and Monroe, to two factors. First, Madison was an incredibly modest man, and second, where his portrait is placed in the room is next to that of his beloved Dolley. This, Quinn stated, shows you what was truly important to the man.
Overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains, James Madison’s desk is located in the middle of his second-floor library, where he wrote the foundations of the U.S. Constitution. Courtesy of Montpelier
There are busts of many of the nation’s Founding Fathers in the Drawing Room—all friends of the Madisons—including George Washington, John Adams, James Monroe, and Benjamin Franklin. They entertained an endless stream of visitors in the years following the Madison presidency. The Marquis de Lafayette was a guest, as well as Andrew Jackson. If you came as a friend, or with a letter of introduction, you would be welcomed to come further into the family home. If you simply came to the house unannounced, you might only come into the drawing room, which served as a sort of early American visitor’s center.
If you were an invited guest to Montpelier, however, you might dine with the Madisons in their elegant Dining Room. The walls are covered in wallpaper known as “Virchaux Drapery,” which is of French design and creates the effect of being in a pavilion. This stylized drapery pattern was designed by the architect Joseph Ramée in partnership with Henry Virchaux, a French émigré printer working in Philadelphia between 1814 and 1816.
James Madison would not sit at the head of the table, as was culturally expected. He preferred to sit along the side. The head of the table would be occupied by Dolley, who directed and coordinated the meals. This arrangement was startling at first to visitors, but soon they found it quite agreeable. James and Dolley gracefully shared the tasks of entertaining: He was more often involved in the weighty affairs of state being discussed, while she enjoyed the art of hospitality.
The dining room walls are covered in reproduction wallpaper known as “Virchaux Drapery,” which is of French design and dates back to 1815 in Philadelphia. (Courtesy of Montpelier)
Beyond the Dining Room is the wing containing Madison’s great library. It was built while he was away, serving as president, but clearly with a future purpose in mind. He had regular correspondence with his builder, James Dinsmore, who also worked for Thomas Jefferson. Mr. Dinsmore weighed in on the design of the library. A letter from Dinsmore reads:
I intended before you went from here to mention to you whether you would not think it advisable to put two windows in the end of the library room? But it escaped My Memory; I have been Reflecting on it Since and believe it will as without them the wall will have a very Dead appearance, and there will be no direct View towards the temple Should you ever build one. My reason for omitting them in the Drawing was that the Space might be occupyd (sic) for Book Shelves but I believe there will be sufficiency of room without as the piers between the windows will be large and the whole of the other end except the breadth of the door may be occupyd (sic) for that purpose.
The windows that Dinsmore suggested were put in, and the round classical temple was built. The library was planned as a space that was large enough for Madison to pursue his last great work: compiling, annotating, and expanding further upon the notes he had taken of the Constitutional Convention (May to September 1787) in order to complete a thorough record of the founding of America. The urgency he felt to perform this work was born in the months of research he had done prior to the convention. In the late 1780s, he carried out a great deal of research to study every historical attempt of mankind to form a democracy, confederation, or any method of representative government.
Visitors of the Madisons described the walls of the drawing room as being “entirely covered” with paintings. (Courtesy of Montpelier)An architectural drawing of the evolution of Montpelier, by Bob Kirchman. (Courtesy of Montpelier)
Madison found little documentation to guide him and numerous accounts of failure. He set out to produce a guide that exemplified the decision and debates of the American founders. During his final years, he wrote a thousand pages that were later compiled into “The Papers of James Madison,” providing a record for future men who may also be striving for liberty. Even in his 80s, visitors report that his mind was bright as he discussed these ideals. He died at the age of 85, on June 28, 1836—the oldest surviving delegate to the Constitutional Convention.
Madison was always fearful that America’s own experiment in self governance might fail. After his death, a document he had written, “James Madison, Advice to My Country, December, 1830” was found among his papers. In it he wrote, with clear allusion to both classical and Biblical wisdom:
As this advice, if it ever see the light will not do it till I am no more, it may be considered as issuing from the tomb where truth alone can be respected, and the happiness of man alone consulted. … The advice nearest to my heart and deepest in my convictions is that the Union of the States be cherished and perpetuated. Let the open enemy to it be regarded as a Pandora with her box opened; and the disguised one, as the Serpent creeping with his deadly wiles into Paradise.
The inauguration of George Washington as the first president of the United States in 1789. Also present are (from left) Alexander Hamilton, Robert R. Livingston, Roger Sherman, Mr. Otis, Vice President John Adams, Baron Von Steuben, and General Henry Knox. Original Artwork: Printed by Currier & Ives. (MPI/Getty Images)
George Washington, universally acclaimed nowadays as one of our best presidents, encountered a little bad press in his own day. Even before his inauguration, he knew that facing impossibly high expectations would be a challenge during his time as president.
“My movements to the chair of Government will be accompanied with feelings not unlike those of a culprit who is going to the place of his execution.” These were the unenthusiastic words of George Washington, written to fellow Revolutionary War veteran Henry Knox on April 1, 1789, not long before his nearly inevitable election as president.
For eight years (between 1775 and 1783) and without pay, Washington had led the Continental Army against the British. The aristocratic Virginian might have gone on to leverage his impressive victory to become a “conquering general” and establish a personal dictatorship—an end conceivably within his grasp and even suggested by some in his circle.
Instead, George Washington very emphatically retired. Lest anyone should miss the point, Washington even delivered a public resignation address. His days of service were over, and beloved Mount Vernon was calling.
But now, he was being summoned into service once more. Two weeks after Washington had compared his feelings to those of a culprit on his way to execution, a dispatch arrived at Mount Vernon notifying the retired general of his presidential election. Two days after that, 57-year-old George Washington left Mount Vernon, penning the following in his diary:
About ten o’clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic felicity; and with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York … with the best dispositions to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations.
Perhaps no one in America was more familiar with the challenges of directing the new union than George Washington, who had played such a central role in its inception and evolution. As such, he was clearly under no illusion as to the challenges that awaited him. His acquiescence (for so it was) to the presidency was informed less by political ambition and more by solemn duty. There was no relishing of the prospect, no celebration on his part, no reveling in his political achievement. Being the sort of president people wanted—by unanimous vote of the Electoral College, no less!—seemed at the very least a daunting task, and probably an impossible one. He seems to have known this.
Bad Roads and White Robes
New York was to serve as the first temporary capital of the new United States of America, but great distance and bad roads meant that it was quite a journey to get there from Virginia. And if Washington was really weighed down by “expectations” at the moment of his departure, he was certainly more so as the journey progressed. Everywhere he went, crowds cheered his arrival, casting roses and wreaths along his path, or erecting triumphal arches for him to pass through. At Trenton, 13 girls—representing the 13 states—in white robes hailed him as “mighty Chief” in song, while Washington was made to ride beneath a 13-columned arch.
Finally reaching Elizabethtown, New Jersey, across the Hudson from New York City itself, Washington was greeted by an ostentatious barge manned by 13 white-uniformed captains. Upon this gaudy vessel, the president-elect was ferried across the river to where Wall Street met the water. New York Governor George Clinton awaited him there—atop a set of specially prepared steps with their sides draped in lavish cloth.
Engraving depicting George Washington en route to Federal Hall for the first Presidential Inauguration, April 30, 1789. (Archive Photos/Getty Images)
George Washington was sworn in on April 30, his oath of office administered on the balcony of Federal Hall, in front of a massive crowd gathered along Broad and Wall Streets and on balconies and housetops in every direction. All was hushed during the swearing in, after which the officiator exclaimed, “Long live George Washington, President of the United States!”
Thunderous applause echoed throughout the city as a 13-gun salute rang out from the harbor. As the ovation continued, an American flag was hoisted above George Washington himself.
Expectations, indeed.
Complainers
Of course, the hoped-for utopia to be ushered in by America’s greatest Founding Father never materialized. Even Washington himself had hoped that the new federation would, at the very least, avoid political factions. Instead, the real world offered its usual share of complication and contention—including a highly combative two-party system. By the time Washington left office, his once-invulnerable image had taken a hit among some contemporary people. Complainers picked at flaws, real or not. American newspapers attacked his perceived disloyalty to republicanism and his personal integrity. They attacked the lavish receptions (or “levees”) he hosted with his wife, his “aristocratic” airs, his alleged “monarchical” pretensions, his cold and aloof manner. Critics accused him of being unintelligent and susceptible to bad advice from his cabinet, of treacherously betraying France by proclaiming neutrality—and of betraying the American Revolution by not eagerly supporting the French one.
A whole series of letters (called the “Belisarius” letters, after their author’s pen name), addressed personally to Washington and published in opposition newspapers, lambasted the president on a wide range of counts: for cultivating “a distinction between the people and their Executive servants”; failing to stand up to (post-war) Britain; overseeing a costly war with the American Indians; maintaining a standing army in peacetime; and supporting internal taxation (then “denouncing” the people most affected by it), among other allegations.
Tempering Expectations
Women laying flowers at George Washington’s feet as he rides over a bridge at Trenton, New Jersey, on the way to his inauguration as first president of the United States on April 30, 1789. (MPI/Getty Images)
It may be that the aspersions cast in his direction were a primary reason George Washington decided to retire after just two terms. Indeed, an earlier draft of his Farewell Address actually included these words:
As some of the Gazettes of the United States have teemed with all the Invective that disappointment, ignorance of facts, and malicious falsehoods could invent, to misrepresent my politics and affections; to wound my reputation and feelings; and to weaken, if not entirely destroy the confidence you had been pleased to repose in me; it might be expected at the parting scene of my public life that I should take some notice of such virulent abuse. But, as heretofore, I shall pass them over in utter silence.
The impossible expectations placed upon the first president demonstrate, perhaps, the futility of investing in one individual the utopian hopes and dreams of an entire people. One of the original American lessons, at least as they pertain to the state, is that political saviors don’t exist; not even the vaunted George Washington could be one! He’d felt the weight of such expectations right from the beginning. That weight probably helped drive him out of the spotlight in the end.
When election cycles come around, perhaps our expectations should be tempered by Washington’s experience.
And when politicians talk like saviors, remember George Washington, too.
Dr. W. Kesler Jackson is a university professor of history. Known on YouTube as “The Nomadic Professor,” he offers online history courses featuring his signature on-location videos, filmed the world over, at NomadicProfessor.com
George Washington praying at Valley Forge. Engraving by John C. McRae, 1866, based on a painting by Henry Brueckner. (Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)
It was December 1777, one of the bleakest times during the Revolutionary War. The Continental Army had won a few battles; however, morale suffered as they had also lost a few crucial battles, such as the Battle of Long Island, the Battle for New York, the Battle of White Plains, and the Battle of Bennington. As it was common for armies to take up quarters during the winter, General George Washington chose his army’s quarters to be constructed 25 miles north of Philadelphia, near Valley Forge. The location was strategic—the British Army had captured Philadelphia that fall and the land area had small creeks that would impede attacks due to its uphill location.
The prospects looked dire for the 12,000 men encamped at Valley Forge. The roads were impassable due to snow. The Continental Army was undersupplied and underfed. The men were neglected, with tattered clothing, worn-out shoes, and disheveled hair. Their constructed shelters were dark, cold log huts with dirt floors, a pit, and a sheet for the door, and there were 12 men per hut, leading to rampant disease.
Historians estimate somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 men died in that bitter cold winter. In Philadelphia, the Red Coats were well taken care of, quartering themselves in American homes and availing themselves of their supplies while guarding the city to prevent supplies from being directed to the Valley Forge camp.
As the story is told by Reverend Snowden in his “Diary and Remembrances,” Isaac Potts, a Quaker, a Tory, and a pacifist, was strolling through the woods in Valley Forge during the winter.
“I heard a plaintive sound as, of a man at prayer,” Potts said. “I tied my horse to a sapling and went quietly into the woods and to my astonishment I saw the great George Washington on his knees alone, with his sword on one side and his cocked hat on the other. He was at Prayer to the God of the Armies, beseeching to interpose with his Divine aid, as it was His crisis, and the cause of the country, of humanity, and of the world. Such a prayer I never heard from the lips of man. I left him alone praying. I went home and told my wife, ‘I saw a sight and heard today what I never saw or heard before,’ and just related to her what I had seen and heard and observed. We never thought a man could be a soldier and a Christian, but if there is one in the world, it is Washington. She also was astonished. We thought it was the cause of God, and America could prevail.”
A Pivotal Moment
Not only was this a pivotal moment for Isaac Potts—he switched to the Whig party and was now a supporter of the war—it also appeared to be a pivotal moment for the Continental Army. Baron von Steuben took command; utilizing his manual “Regulation for the Order of Discipline of the Troops of the United States.” He created a schedule, conducted drills, and instructed on the use of bayonets and battlefield formations and maneuvers. The spring of 1778 brought the French to the side of the Americans. France and America replenished food and supplies and built new roads and bridges. In June 1778, the British abandoned Philadelphia and retreated to New York. At the end of that same month, the British withdrew at the Battle of Monmouth in New Jersey. As more dominoes fell, eventually the British surrendered in Yorktown, Virginia, in 1781.
The prayer of Washington is seen by many as the pivotal moment that changed the trajectory of the Revolutionary War. This one pivotal moment is depicted in various works of art, including Arnold Friberg’s painting, “The Prayer at Valley Forge.” George Washington was a deeply religious man. He held a deep and abiding faith that God had put him in his position and that victory would come for the Americans. He encouraged days of prayer and fasting to seek God’s divine assistance in times of peril. Washington’s belief in freedom of religion and conscience was exemplified in his support of the Bill of Rights, his respect for the conscientious scruples of the Quakers, and his assurance to the Hebrew Congregations of Newport, Rhode Island, that they would be able to enjoy “the exercise of their inherent natural rights” and that the government would protect their religious freedoms.
This country has had other archetypal leaders who answered their calling and displayed their devotion to God and the higher law principles that it was founded upon. And their prayers seem to have been answered, as time and again the trajectory of this nation has changed. Think of Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, Jr., and John F. Kennedy. These leaders emerged with spoken and written words humbly acknowledging that our rights come from God, not the state, and that there are self-evident, objective truths. Their leadership changed the trajectory of this country, adversity was overcome, and this nation eventually healed.
In 1982, President Ronald Reagan, another iconic leader, stated: “I said before that the most sublime picture in American history is of George Washington on his knees in the snow at Valley Forge. That image personifies a people who know that it’s not enough to depend on our own courage and goodness. We must also seek help from God our father and preserver.” Reagan had Arnold Friberg’s painting on display in the White House all eight years of his presidency.
Historically as a nation, during disunity, Americans have grasped the gravity of the moment and, like their preceding iconic leaders and contemporary Americans, have returned to God and the founding principles that were embedded in the founding documents. Over the past year, it appears as though the earth has once again shifted. Not unexpectedly, Bible sales are soaring and there is an increased interest in understanding our country’s heritage. The American spirit is yet again awakening and renewing its religious and cultural allegiances.
Deborah Hommer is a history and philosophy enthusiast who gravitates toward natural law and natural rights. She founded the nonprofit ConstitutionalReflections (website under construction) with the purpose of educating others in the rich history of Western Civilization.
One of Virginia’s most amazing architectural treasures wasn’t formed by the hand of man at all, and it’s listed in the National Register of Historic Places. Thomas Jefferson once owned it. George Washington is said to have surveyed its location as a young lad of 17—though he was fully commissioned as a surveyor with a certification from the College of William & Mary. The future president, according to local lore, even carved his initials in the stone of it, though that story is simply not provable. Frederic Church made a painting of it as well.
Virginia’s Natural Bridge has stood, amazing those who have beheld it, since long before European settlers ever came to the Great Valley of Virginia. Spanning the limestone gorge of Cedar Creek in Rockbridge County, Virginia, the 215-foot-tall Natural Bridge today carries a U.S. highway, Route 11, across the chasm. It’s perhaps the only formation of its type to be listed as a highway bridge by the Virginia Department of Transportation.
Formed by the elements, Natural Bridge is all that remains of the roof of an ancient cavern, the bulk of which collapsed into Cedar Creek long ago. The first European to write about the bridge was John Peter Salling, who in 1742 was among five Virginia explorers departing from the region on a journey to the Mississippi River. Thomas Jefferson purchased the 157-acre tract of land that contains the bridge in 1774. The surveyor of record is James Tremble, though Washington may have worked for him. Interestingly enough, Tremble’s survey makes no mention of the Natural Bridge.
“Natural Bridge” by Flavius Fisher, part of the Lora Robins Collection of Virginia. (Public Domain)
Jefferson himself spares no words in his “Notes on the State of Virginia” (1787) description:
The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of nature’s works, though not comprehended under the present head, must not be pretermitted. It is on the ascent of a hill, which seems to have been cloven through its length by some great convulsion. The fissure, just at the bridge, is by some admeasurements, 270 feet deep, by others only 205. It is about 45 feet wide at the bottom, and 90 feet at the top; this of course determines the length of the bridge, and its height from the water, its breadth in the middle is about 60 feet, but more at the ends, and the thickness of the mass at the summit of the arch, about 40 feet. A part of this thickness is constituted by a coat of earth, which gives growth to many large trees. The residue, with the hill on both sides, is one solid rock of lime-stone. The arch approaches the semi-elliptical form; but the larger axis of the ellipses, which would be the cord of the arch, is many times longer than the transverse. Though the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them, and look over into the abyss. You involuntarily fall on your hands and feet, creep to the parapet, and peep over it.
Bob Kirchman is an architectural illustrator who lives in Augusta County, Va., with his wife Pam. He teaches studio art, with a good deal of art history thrown in, to students in the Augusta Christian Educators Homeschool Coop. Kirchman is an avid hiker and loves exploring the hidden wonders of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
