George Washington

I was bred a Virginia planter and learned my trade with chain and compass. At seventeen I surveyed the backcountry; before long I carried a commission. Fort Necessity taught me humility; Braddock’s defeat taught me caution. Two horses were shot beneath me and bullet holes pierced my coat, yet I lived to mark out roads and boundaries.

In 1775 I took command at Cambridge of an untried army. We retreated far and often. On Christmas night of ’76 we crossed the Delaware through ice and dark, struck Trenton at dawn, and found our confidence again. At Valley Forge hunger and cold pressed us hard, until von Steuben’s drill gave our ranks a spine. With French allies we tightened the noose at Yorktown; then, when victory was at last in hand, I laid my commission down at Annapolis.

I presided over the Convention in Philadelphia and accepted a presidency no one yet understood. I styled the office simply, Mr. President. I summoned a Cabinet, proclaimed neutrality in Europe’s wars, suppressed the Whiskey rebellion by mustering militia and then showing mercy, and bore the censure of treaties made in the nation’s interest. After two terms I published my Farewell and returned to my fields.

At Mount Vernon I experimented with crops, a treading barn, and rotation; I also held men, women, and children in bondage. I pursued fugitives and, in my will, ordered freedom for those I personally owned after my wife’s death. I wore troublesome false teeth, had no child of my body, and died in 1799. Judge me by the whole ledger; I tried to leave the republic stronger than I found it.