Kip’s Bay, mid-Manhattan Island, New York, September 15, 1776. American militia, including New England brigades of Continental Soldiers, among the best in the American army, ran for their lives before invading British steel. What occurred next, occasionally seen by General George Washington’s inner family of staff, was rarely if ever experienced by the rank and file. Washington sat on his mount, dumbfounded, witnessing the complete and hysterical rout of his men; most had not even laid eyes on their enemy before tossing aside their muskets. And in that moment, something snapped. He drove his horse into the throng of a maddened mob and under a barrage of oaths, he whipped the men with his riding cane as they pushed past. So too did the officers feel the pain of his unleashed wrath. Again, and again his riding whip fell upon heads and shoulders. He pulled his unloaded flint pistol and snapped the hammer over and over at men tearing by. In unfathomed frustration he dashed his hat on the ground and cried out in rage, “Are these the men with whom I am to defend America?” Only by the swift action of an aide who seized his commander’s bridle and led his horse away from the now fast advancing British, did America obtain their leader for the duration of the war.
“Washington had a temper, savage when it exploded in all its fury.” Lord Fairfax, wealthy Scottish peer and young Washington’s mentor, employer, and friend, wrote to Mary Ball, Washington’s mother, in 1748, “I wish I could say that he governs his temper… He is subject to attacks of anger on provocation, sometimes without just cause.” Time would, as predicted by Fairfax, soften the youthful Virginian’s outbursts who would “go to school all his life,” learning self-control. However, the hot-tempered general would never fully succeed in curbing his sudden anger. Purposively hidden from most, it occasionally boiled to the surface. Thomas Jefferson was witness to this writing “his temper was naturally irritable and high-toned [high-strung], but reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and habitual ascendency over it. If, however it broke its bonds, he was most tremendous in his wrath.” John Adams concurred, praising Washington’s closest aides, “He had great self-command… but to preserve so much equanimity as he did required a great capacity. Whenever he lost his temper, as he did sometimes, either love or fear in those about him induced them to conceal his weakness from the world.”
And with that wrath came a tongue. According to Lord Fairfax’s secretary Tobias Lear, few sounds on earth could compare with that of George Washington swearing a blue streak. At the Battle of Monmouth, June 28, 1778, General Charles Lee initiated a quick retreat in the face of the enemy. Washington, when he got wind of the reverse, rode to confront his second in command. Fellow Virginian General Charles Scott would later reflect on the question if he ever heard his Commander-in-Chief swear. He responded, “Yes, once. It was at Monmouth, and on a day that would have made any man swear. Yes sir, he swore on that day, till the leaves shook on the trees, charming, delightful. Never have I enjoyed such swearing before or since. Sir, on that ever-memorable day, he swore like an angel from heaven.”
“Ambition is the distinguishing feature of his personality as a young man. He was also uncertain of himself socially,” said author Fred Anderson. Before the age of sixteen, he transcribed by hand 110 Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation, written by 16th century Jesuit monks and translated into English in 1640 by Francis Hawkins. The rules focused on people rather than the narrow concept of one’s own self-interests. These rules were religiously practiced by Washington for most of his adult life, proclaiming respect for others with the reward of self-respect and heightened self-esteem. Gouverneur Morris, Founding Father who as a young man advanced the idea of a single union of states, wrote of Washington’s intense passions of a great man that erupted in infrequent outbursts.”…the tumultuous passions which accompany greatness and frequently tarnish its luster. With them was his first contest, and his first victory was over himself… yet those who have seen him strongly moved will bear witness that his wrath was terrible. They have seen, boiling in his bosom, passion almost too mighty for man.”
Throughout his military career, he was exposed to the darker side of human nature. He often railed against the squalor and stupidity of enlisted men. He molded what would become a formidable self-control of his emotions, forced to defeat his own temper and impetuosity before he ever met a redcoat on the field of battle. Abigail Adams wrote, “He has a dignity which forbids familiarity married with an easy, appealing mind which creates love and reverence.” There was an iron determination beneath the modest exterior. As a military leader, he was wedded to the need for discipline that his troops so singularly needed. Washington practiced and preached to his officers the need to remain aloof and exposing one’s inner self. “Be easy and condescending in your deportment to your officers,” he wrote, “but not too familiar, lest you subject yourself to a want of that respect which is necessary to support a proper command.” He would show ruthlessness and resilience in adversity, complaining that Congress had limited the number of lashes that could be given his soldiers, and towards the war’s end, he insisted on the death penalty for mutineers.
Author Katherine Kersten wrote that Washington’s life was marked by moral striving. He had a fiery temper, which he controlled through constant self-discipline. He had a love of honor and regard, which he strove to hold in check by courteous attention to all, both high and low. As a strong-willed man, Washington’s paramount aim was self-mastery. His guiding ideals were fortitude, justice, and moderation. He demonstrated the ability to rein in his own ambition at crucial moments that marked true greatness. As British author Robert Harvey penned, “Under the unassuming exterior this rich man on the margins of the Virginia aristocracy was to display leadership, strength and dignity of such an order that ultimately the whole American Revolution came to revolve around him…His very failings served to strengthen the reputation of not just a founding father but, after Samuel Adams, the founding father.”