Art and myth in the establishment of the US
Review of Cincinnatus: George Washington and the Enlightenment by Garry Wills
Garry Wills has an unmatched talent for making erudite connections in a highly readable way. In this book, he explores the images (much-needed symbols of stability for a new form of government) that were employed for political purpose in both the American and French Revolutions. They were largely the products of the secular Enlightenment, where reason and discourse were trusted as human nature, character mattered, science was irrefutably true, and popular opinion respected. In America, power was viewed as something to relinquish or alternate, while in France, with the Terror and then Napoleon’s dictatorship, it was pursued and coveted. George Washington is the hero of this book, a man who embodied and shaped the American Revolution in the image of a Roman general who renounced dictatorial power and returned to farming once his mandate – to defend the Republic – was fulfilled.
The principal image that Washington chose was that of Cincinnatus, whom he would follow with his dramatic and long anticipated resignation. It was a major political act, one of the kind that stands norms from the old regime on their head. Washington would return to the plow and express reluctance to enter politics, let alone appear hungry for power. As Wills describes it, he used power in order to give it up in ways useful to the public. At the same time, he gained popular power by giving up his monopoly on military violence, which was what the public wanted as they had fought for their freedom from George III. His resignation was also a demonstration that power should come not from his charisma and heroism, but from the people. Public opinion was what all government should rest upon. Finally, he served without recompense, also what the public wished of its servants and in stark contrast to the royal governors who openly mixed personal profit and their duties.
The public portrayal of Washington then ratcheted up into full gear. First, there was the Weems’ hagiography, in which he invented any number of stories, the most notorious of which was the I-cannot-tell-a-lie one about chopping down the Cherry Tree. Any American kid remembers that nonsense. Weems’ aim, Wills informs us, was provide descriptions of heroes, thereby producing heroes. This is a very Enlightenment notion, i.e. that readers would choose their life path via reasoning through the narratives they are served up. If anything, I was influenced by them, not that I was able to live up to it all. Wills also follows the evolution of some of these stories as they were used in later periods.
Second, there are the paintings and sculptures. These fit deep into the Classical tradition and Wills describes it with unmatched lucidity. The book has extended essays on composition and symbolism, fit into context with both erudition and humor. There is a chapter on left versus right, which as a lefty was fascinating to me. The right hand implied the masculine, more often the “correct”, and represented action; the left was feminine, not always the “good”, and portrayed will or emotion. Wills illuminates this with an extended analysis of Durer’s etching of Adam and Eve, which will forever change my perception of art. A later chapter covers the use of light, from the divine revelation that illuminates St. Augustine in his study to the Enlightenment scientists (like Franklin with his electricity) of a completely secular character. Again, a perspective, elegantly expressed, that I will never see those paintings as I once did. It inspires me to read more neo-classic art history, to which I have never particularly paid much attention.
Third, there is the question of his character: what he chose to present to the public but also who he really was. If there is something otherworldly about him – one parodist wrote that you could never imagine him naked – he presented himself as a man from and of the people. Through his character, he sought to earn “public credit”, a respect that the army and the populace would share. In a sense, he exhibited “eagerness to transcend his own charisma”, making him and his career equal to your average American, regardless of the innumerable boundaries that were arising. This, he reasoned as an Enlightenment politician, was the key to stability and legitimacy in a time of rapid change that he was helping to initiate in institutions, behavior, and mores – nothing less than the establishment of a completely new political tradition. To effectuate all of this, he was portrayed as the wise man philosopher, not the autocratic man of genius (like Napoleon). I was awestruck as Wills’ ability to portray this succinctly and vividly.
Fourth, there is hero worship, which was linked to, but distinct from, character. In accordance with 18th century Enlightenment beliefs, individuals operated autonomously from historical processes and thus could exercise virtue and will in order to achieve heroic ends. This understanding stands in sharp contrast to today, with the importance of our Romantic notions of “world spirit” (Hegel) or our inability to fully comprehend reality (Kant and the postmodernists). Washington’s particular challenge was to be heroic yet remain a man of the people. To help him, in cooperation with the sculptor Houdon, politicians like Washington became subjects of the “hero factory”, which elevated them in images inspired by Classical antiquity. The status they earned would serve as the “social glue” of the early republic. Of course, this posed a dilemma for artists seeking flamboyant heroes: Washington was a “normal man” of simplicity not grandeur, yet he had to look heroic and dramatic – not boring.
Fifth, Wills examines at length one of the most important dramatic works of the 18th century, Addison’s Cato. It portrayed an austere and inflexible man who did right and opposed Julius Caesar, scorning public affection in his abrasive certainty, resulting in his death for a noble cause. There are an extraordinary amount of quotes in the play that journalists, pamphleteers and later historians put into the mouths of the Founding Fathers and other heroes of ours: Patrick Henry (“give me liberty or give me death!”), Nathan Hale (“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country”), even Washington paraphrases Addison, all in slightly less grandiloquent language than the original.
Finally, there was the notion of sacrifice. These images were also drawn from Classical and Christian tradition, but secularized. There were heroic deaths for the sake of the republic as well as the fighters against tyranny. If Washington went against his character rather than died in battle, his struggle was still seen as heroic, that is “heroically restrained”, projecting modesty, patience, and equanimity, often suppressing his well known hot temper. In this way, he led by example, keeping his men from rebelling and seizing power via military force in several instances.
When I bought this book, I initially found it too specialized and demanding for my level of knowledge. I then read bios and histories of the Founding Fathers. As I returned to Wills’ brilliant book, this background hugely enhanced my understanding of the period. It is genuinely inspiring.