P
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eriodically my attention is drawn to a particular fake
quotation attributed to George Washington, soldier, statesman, and father of
his country:
It is impossible to rightly
govern the world without God and the Bible.
Now before I go any further let me cut to the chase: there is
no evidence whatsoever that Washington said, wrote, muttered, or whispered
these words. None. It isn’t found in Washington’s papers. No associate of his
is on record as saying that Washington said it. It first turns up, sans
authority, nearly a century after Washington died.
And yet people seem to like it. It gets quoted again and
again, often by people who should know better. Evangelist David Barton, whose
hobby is collecting antique American documents that mention God, first included
it in his books, though he later on distanced himself from it in the original version of his “unconfirmed” quotations list. Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson, who seems to be an expert on
everything, used it to back up his bizarre dating advice. Chuck Grassley, who
as a Senator has the archives of the republic at his command, cited it in
support of his particular brand of public policy.
But it’s not Washington’s. For one thing, the language is
wrong. If Washington had voiced the
concept, he wouldn’t have said it that way. He liked high-sounding words. I view with unspeakable incredulity the
possibility that the governance of this terrestrial sphere could be maintained
without the assistance of the vast controller of the Universe and the volume of
his celestial legislation. Something more along that line, anyway.
For another, why would Washington be concerned with governing
the world? Where did this megalomania
come from? Washington seems to have felt it quite enough of a job to govern the
tiny portion of it along the east coast of North America that fell to his lot.
Four years of it was plenty—he’d actually written his original farewell address
and was set to step down gracefully until talked into staying for another four
years by friends of the young nation convinced that only he could keep the
thing on course. Perhaps feeling the difficulty of this some people have
substituted “a nation” for “the world”—but the canonical version is the one
given above.
So where did this saying come from, and how did it come to be
assigned to Washington? Could it have been something he said that somehow
didn’t get recorded? Could the record have been lost? Did somebody think it would
have been a cool thing for Washington to say, and simply put the words into his
mouth? Was it a mistake? Did it start as a story, a joke, or a dream?
Actually, we don’t have to rely solely on random guesses as to
where the thing came from. There is what those of us with at least one foot in
the historical racket like to call “evidence”. “Support.” “Documentation.” A
textual pedigree. A paper trail that can be followed. And that trail shows us
that in this case what we have is more like a pebble shaped by the stream of
time. A lawyer carved it into its classic form, but he got it from a
politician. That politician in turn reshaped it a trifle when he got it from a
preacher. That preacher hacked it out of a chunk of text that he had received
(perhaps indirectly) from a playwright. And that playwright got his version—part
of a argument for the existence of God—from—well, he doesn’t actually say, but
he assures us that he included nothing in his work that he did not believe to
be true, and he appeals to “the authority of history” and “undoubted
traditions” for his claims.
But there’s more to the story than a simple recital of the
changes made over time. Why they happened is also significant. So I intend to
cover the thing in the time it deserves, taking as many installments as necessary.
If you’re in a hurry, and are not in the mood to humor me, I’ve already given
the outline of the tale in brief at Fake
History, and you can read it there. Or you can rely on the authoritative decree of the Mount Vernon website. Otherwise, stick around. First up: Part 1:
The Playwright.
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Next post in this series: Part 1: The Playwright
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