Washington [359]
Writing to Governor Edmund Randolph on December 21, Washington formally declined appointment to the convention, secretly hoping his Virginia associates would drop the matter. But when Madison learned of Washington’s decision, he requested that he keep the door ajar “in case the gathering clouds should become so dark and menacing as to supersede every consideration but that of our national existence or safety.”10 All winter long, Washington rested in a curious limbo vis-à-vis the convention. “My name is in the delegation to this convention,” he told Jay, “but it was put there contrary to my desire and remains there contrary to my request.”11
Washington was frankly baffled and, in his time-honored executive style, canvassed friends about how to resolve his dilemma, enlisting Madison, Humphreys, Knox, and Jay. Each exchange disclosed another layer of doubt on his part. To Humphreys, Washington confessed his fear that the Constitutional Convention might fail, much as he had been haunted by fear of failure when named commander in chief in 1775. Failure “would be a disagreeable predicament for any of them [the delegates] to be in, but more particularly so for a person in my situation,” he wrote.12 Since he personified the country, he stood to lose the most from accusations of partisanship. On the other hand, this might be a last opportunity to salvage a deteriorating nation. Any failure, he said, could be construed “as an unequivocal proof that the states are not likely to agree in any general measure . . . and consequently that there is an end put to federal government.”13 In soliciting opinions, he again preferred to give a passive appearance to active decisions, making it seem that he was being reluctantly borne along by fate, friends, or historical necessity, when he was actually shaping as well as reacting to events. This technique allowed him to cast himself into the modest role of someone answering the summons of history. It also permitted him to wait until a consensus had emerged on his course of action. If Washington could never entirely resist the allure of fame, neither could he openly welcome it.
Not all of Washington’s advisers thought he should attend. Humphreys reminded him of the potentially illegal nature of the gathering and, consequently, the huge reputational risk. “I concur fully in sentiment with you concerning the inexpediency of your attending the convention,” he wrote.14 Knox favored Washington’s going but felt obliged to point out that the Philadelphia convention might be “an irregular assembly,” even an illegal one, since it would operate outside the amendment process spelled out in the Articles of Confederation. It might even expose delegates to conspiracy charges. On the other hand, Washington’s presence would draw New England states that had boycotted the Annapolis conference, converting it into a truly national gathering. To pique Washington’s interest, Jay sent him a clairvoyant sketch of a new government divided into legislative, executive, and judicial branches. “Let Congress legislate,” he told Washington. “Let others execute. Let others judge.”15 The letter foreshadowed the exact shape of the future government.
During February and March 1787 Washington alternated between passionate concern for saving the union and an insistence that he couldn’t go to Philadelphia. He likened the confederacy to a “house on fire,” saying that unless emergency measures were taken, the building would be “reduced to ashes”; but somebody else would apparently have to extinguish the blaze.16 Washington’s internal deliberations began to shift on February 21, when Congress approved a convention “for the sole and express purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation.”17 While the convention ended up exceeding this mandate, the decision momentarily retired the legality issue. With