HERE is nothing so rare as a truly great man. He never
thinks himself one. If he should, he would lack an essential element of
magnanimity. They do not leave diaries, memoirs, autobiographies or carefully
worded inscriptions for their tombs. Like Samson, they baffle the world and
pass on seeming to say: "Behold, I have not told
it my father nor my
mother, and shall I tell
it thee?"
The great historic characters of two worlds for a half century seemed to lay
in panorama before the discriminating mind of Thomas Jefferson, as he stood on
a pinnacle late in life. As George Washington crowded his memory, Jefferson
took his measure:
Upon first conversing with George Mason, Philip Mazzei, the Florentine
physician, world traveler, and close friend of Jefferson, saw in him one of
the wonders of the world. Thirty-five years after the event he related in his
Memoirs the impression made upon him by George Mason in 1773, when he
had exclaimed to his friend, Thomas Adams:
In historic evalutations, as in religion, panegyric is vain and empty.
Actions speak louder than words. Emulation rather than rhetorical evaluation
by men of wisdom and virtue is the better test. By that rule let George
Mason be judged.
Before the Revolution George Washington called upon Mason to draw every
important state paper that ever bulged from his pockets. Mason's
Fairfax Resolves
of July 1774, by way of Washington's pockets, became the
Virginia
Resolves of August. By way of other pockets they became the
Resolves
of the Continental Congress on October 14th, and
The Association
of October 20, 1774.
As to the latter, one of those rare historians, willing to follow facts
wherever they lead and without respect to persons, said:
George Mason went to Williamsburg in May, 1776 with something in his pocket
that revolutionized a world. His Virginia Bill of Rights was to become the
most influential constitutional document ever penned by man. Nothin in all
the annals of history had ever approached its simple delineation of the
inherent rights of men. In that document man stood forth in dignity and
freedom as the natural master of his own government, and his own destiny.
It separated the powers of government and struck the hand of executive and
legislative powers from the courts of justice, so as to set them free, that
there might be impartial justice under standing laws. For the first time in
all history the press found its freedom elevated to constitutional status
in a document that formed the basis and foundation of government. Scores of
other fox holes of liberty were reconstructed by Mason's fabulous mind from
the bitter struggles of man to achieve liberty and dignity in all ages, and
were framed into a governmental structure by his pen for the first time,
thence to re-echo forever down the corridors of time.
As formally adopted on June 12, 1776, Mason's Declaration of Rights was as
follows:
After trying out nearly every philosophy of government known to man
and falling from grandeur to pathetic grief, let us hope that poor
France may fight her way back with virtue and wisdom to keep and live
by the maxims of the man of Gunston Hall.
When George Mason rode into Williamsburg in May 1776, with his
Declaration of Rights and the outlines of his constitution, in his
pocket, the strange enthusiasm of revolution inspired and supported
the minds of men. Insurgent shocks sharpen mental faculties and
moral responsibilities. Carter Braxton, Meriwether Smith, Thomas
Jefferson, Patrick Henry and others took or sent their drafts of
constitutions to the rebel meeting, but as Edmund Randolph tersely
commented in his Manuscript History of Virginia, they
In all sanguinary struggles against despotism and the abuse of power,
those oppressed by despotic governments are the underdogs. At the
very threshold the leaders find themselves between cataclysms and
catacombs. Anxiety for self-preservation, "the first law of nature,"
renders men attentive at such times to the wisest men in their
counsils. Every ear listened to the wisest man of his generation.
Every mind assented.
But the fruits of victory, bought with blood, tend to vanish in
bachanalian feasts.
The struggle against power and for freedom had been water of the
dam five years before the
Constitutional Convention
of 1787. The
struggle for power over liberty was on. George Mason was not a man
to put on and then shed his principles "like some shabby old coat
at the door." The same libertarian rode into Philadelphia in May
1787 that rode into Williamsburg in May 1776. He was in the
Convention every hour of every session. During recesses he was
tugging at the coat tails of committeemen. To one of his children
he wrote,