President Jefferson took office in a spirit of exultation which he made
no effort to disguise in his private letters. "The tough sides of our
Argosie," he wrote to John Dickinson, "have been thoroughly tried. Her
strength has stood the waves into which she was steered with a view to
sink her. We shall put her on her Republican tack, and she will now show
by the beauty of her motion the skill of her builders." In him as in
his two intimates, Gallatin and Madison, there was a touch of that
philosophy which colored the thought of reformers on the eve of the
French Revolution, a naive confidence in the perfectability of man
and the essential worthiness of his aspirations. Strike from man
the shackles of despotism and superstition and accord to him a free
government, and he would rise to unsuspected felicity. Republican
government was the strongest government on earth, because it was founded
on free will and imposed the fewest checks on the legitimate desires of
men. Only one thing was wanting to make the American people happy and
prosperous, said the President in his Inaugural Address "a wise and
frugal government, which shall restrain men from injuring one another,
which shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of
industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the
bread it has earned." This, he believed, was the sum of good government;
and this was the government which he was determined to establish.
Whether government thus reduced to lowest terms would prove adequate in
a world rent by war, only the future could disclose.
It was only in intimate letters and in converse with Gallatin and
Madison that Jefferson revealed his real purposes. So completely did
Jefferson take these two advisers into his confidence, and so loyal
was their cooperation, that the Government for eight years has been
described as a triumvirate almost as clearly defined as any triumvirate
of Rome. Three more congenial souls certainly have never ruled a nation,
for they were drawn together not merely by agreement on a common policy
but by sympathetic understanding of the fundamental principles of
government. Gallatin and Madison often frequented the President's House,
and there one may see them in imagination and perhaps catch now and then
a fragment of their conversation:
Gallatin: We owe much to geographical position; we have been fortunate
in escaping foreign wars. If we can maintain peaceful relations with
other nations, we can keep down the cost of administration and avoid all
the ills which follow too much government.
The President: After all, we are chiefly an agricultural people and if
we shape our policy accordingly we shall be much more likely to multiply
and be happy than as if we mimicked an Amsterdam, a Hamburg, or a city
like London.
Madison (quietly): I quite agree with you. We must keep the government
simple and republican, avoiding the corruption which inevitably prevails
in crowded cities.
Gallatin (pursuing his thought): The moment you allow the national debt
to mount, you entail burdens on posterity and augment the operations of
government.
The President (bitterly): The principle of spending money to be paid
by posterity is but swindling futurity on a large scale. That was what
Hamilton--
Gallatin: Just so; and if this administration does not reduce taxes,
they will never be reduced. We must strike at the root of the evil and
avert the danger of multiplying the functions of government. I
would repeal all internal taxes. These pretended tax-preparations,
treasure-preparations, and army-preparations against contingent wars
tend only to encourage wars.
The President (nodding his head in agreement): The discharge of the debt
is vital to the destinies of our government, and for the present we
must make all objects subordinate to this. We must confine our general
government to foreign concerns only and let our affairs be disentangled
from those of all other nations, except as to commerce. And our commerce
is so valuable to other nations that they will be glad to purchase it,
when they know that all we ask is justice. Why, then, should we not
reduce our general government to a very simple organization and a very
unexpensive one--a few plain duties to be performed by a few servants?
It was precisely the matter of selecting these few servants which
worried the President during his first months in office, for the federal
offices were held by Federalists almost to a man. He hoped that he would
have to make only a few removals any other course would expose him to
the charge of inconsistency after his complacent statement that there
was no fundamental difference between Republicans and Federalists. But
his followers thought otherwise; they wanted the spoils of victory and
they meant to have them. Slowly and reluctantly Jefferson yielded to
pressure, justifying himself as he did so by the reflection that a due
participation in office was a matter of right. And how, pray, could
due participation be obtained, if there were no removals? Deaths
were regrettably few; and resignations could hardly be expected. Once
removals were decided upon, Jefferson drifted helplessly upon the tide.
For a moment, it is true, he wrote hopefully about establishing an
equilibrium and then returning "with joy to that state of things when
the only questions concerning a candidate shall be: Is he honest? Is he
capable? Is he faithful to the Constitution?" That blessed expectation
was never realized. By the end of his second term, a Federalist in
office was as rare as a Republican under Adams.
The removal of the Collector of the Port at New Haven and the
appointment of an octogenarian whose chief qualification was his
Republicanism brought to a head all the bitter animosity of Federalist
New England. The hostility to Jefferson in this region was no ordinary
political opposition, as he knew full well, for it was compounded of
many ingredients. In New England there was a greater social solidarity
than existed anywhere else in the Union. Descended from English stock,
imbued with common religious and political traditions, and bound
together by the ties of a common ecclesiastical polity, the people of
this section had, as Jefferson expressed it, "a sort of family pride."
Here all the forces of education, property, religion, and respectability
were united in the maintenance of the established order against the
assaults of democracy. New England Federalism was not so much a body
of political doctrine as a state of mind. Abhorrence of the forces
liberated by the French Revolution was the dominating emotion. To the
Federalist leaders democracy seemed an aberration of the human mind,
which was bound everywhere to produce infidelity, looseness of morals,
and political chaos. In the words of their Jeremiah, Fisher Ames,
"Democracy is a troubled spirit, fated never to rest, and whose dreams,
if it sleeps, present only visions of hell." So thinking and feeling,
they had witnessed the triumph of Jefferson with genuine alarm, for
Jefferson they held to be no better than a Jacobin, bent upon subverting
the social order and saturated with all the heterodox notions of
Voltaire and Thomas Paine.
The appointment of the aged Samuel Bishop as Collector of New Haven was
evidence enough to the Federalist mind, which fed upon suspicion, that
Jefferson intended to reward his son, Abraham Bishop, for political
services. The younger Bishop was a stench in their nostrils, for at a
recent celebration of the Republican victory he had shocked the good
people of Connecticut by characterizing Jefferson as "the illustrious
chief who, once insulted, now presides over the Union," and comparing
him with the Saviour of the world, "who, once insulted, now presides
over the universe." And this had not been his first transgression: he
was known as an active and intemperate rebel against the standing order.
No wonder that Theodore Dwight voiced the alarm of all New England
Federalists in an oration at New Haven, in which he declared that
according to the doctrines of Jacobinism "the greatest villain in the
community is the fittest person to make and execute the laws." "We have
now," said he, "reached the consummation of democratic blessedness.
We have a country governed by blockheads and knaves." Here was an
opposition which, if persisted in, might menace the integrity of the
Union.
Scarcely less vexatious was the business of appointments in New York
where three factions in the Republican party struggled for the control
of the patronage. Which should the President support? Gallatin, whose
father-in-law was prominent in the politics of the State, was inclined
to favor Burr and his followers; but the President already felt a deep
distrust of Burr and finally surrendered to the importunities of DeWitt
Clinton, who had formed an alliance with the Livingston interests to
drive Burr from the party. Despite the pettiness of the game, which
disgusted both Gallatin and Jefferson, the decision was fateful. It was
no light matter, even for the chief magistrate, to offend Aaron Burr.
From these worrisome details of administration, the President turned
with relief to the preparation of his first address to Congress. The
keynote was to be economy. But just how economies were actually to be
effected was not so clear. For months Gallatin had been toiling over
masses of statistics, trying to reconcile a policy of reduced taxation,
to satisfy the demands of the party, with the discharge of the public
debt. By laborious calculation he found that if $7,300,000 were set
aside each year, the debt--principal and interest--could be discharged
within sixteen years. But if the unpopular excise were abandoned, where
was the needed revenue to be found? New taxes were not to be thought of.
The alternative, then, was to reduce expenditures. But how and where?
Under these circumstances the President and his Cabinet adopted the
course which in the light of subsequent events seems to have been
woefully ill-timed and hazardous in the extreme. They determined to
sacrifice the army and navy. In extenuation of this decision, it may
be said that the danger of war with France, which had forced the Adams
Administration to double expenditures, had passed; and that Europe was
at this moment at peace, though only the most sanguine and shortsighted
could believe that continued peace was possible in Europe with the First
Consul in the saddle. It was agreed, then, that the expenditures for
the military and naval establishments should be kept at about
$2,500,000--somewhat below the normal appropriation before the recent
war-flurry; and that wherever possible expenses should be reduced by
careful pruning of the list of employees at the navy yards. Such was
the programme of humdrum economy which President Jefferson laid before
Congress. After the exciting campaign of 1800, when the public was
assured that the forces of Darkness and Light were locked in deadly
combat for the soul of the nation, this tame programme seemed like an
anticlimax. But those who knew Thomas Jefferson learned to discount the
vagaries to which he gave expression in conversation. As John Quincy
Adams once remarked after listening to Jefferson's brilliant table
talk, "Mr. Jefferson loves to excite wonder." Yet Thomas Jefferson,
philosopher, was a very different person from Thomas Jefferson,
practical politician. Paradoxical as it may seem, the new President,
of all men of his day, was the least likely to undertake revolutionary
policies; and it was just this acquaintance with Jefferson's mental
habits which led his inveterate enemy, Alexander Hamilton, to advise his
party associates to elect Jefferson rather than Burr.
The President broke with precedent, however, in one small particular. He
was resolved not to follow the practice of his Federalist predecessors
and address Congress in person. The President's speech to the two houses
in joint session savored too much of a speech from the throne; it was a
symptom of the Federalist leaning to monarchical forms and practices. He
sent his address, therefore, in writing, accompanied with letters to
the presiding officers of the two chambers, in which he justified this
departure from custom on the ground of convenience and economy of time.
"I have had principal regard," he wrote, "to the convenience of the
Legislature, to the economy of their time, to the relief from the
embarrassment of immediate answers on subjects not yet fully before
them, and to the benefits thence resulting to the public affairs." This
explanation deceived no one, unless it was the writer himself. It was
thoroughly characteristic of Thomas Jefferson that he often explained
his conduct by reasons which were obvious afterthoughts--an unfortunate
habit which has led his contemporaries and his unfriendly biographers to
charge him with hypocrisy. And it must be admitted that his preference
for indirect methods of achieving a purpose exposed him justly to the
reproaches of those who liked frankness and plain dealing. It is not
unfair, then, to wonder whether the President was not thinking rather
of his own convenience when he elected to address Congress by written
message, for he was not a ready nor an impressive speaker. At all
events, he established a precedent which remained unbroken until another
Democratic President, one hundred and twelve years later, returned to
the practice of Washington and Adams.
If the Federalists of New England are to be believed, hypocrisy marked
the presidential message from the very beginning to the end. It began
with a pious expression of thanks "to the beneficent Being" who had
been pleased to breathe into the warring peoples of Europe a spirit of
forgiveness and conciliation. But even the most bigoted Federalist who
could not tolerate religious views differing from his own must have
been impressed with the devout and sincere desire of the President to
preserve peace. Peace! peace! It was a sentiment which ran through the
message like the watermark in the very paper on which he wrote; it was
the condition, the absolutely indispensable condition, of every chaste
reformation which he advocated. Every reduction of public expenditure
was predicated on the supposition that the danger of war was remote
because other nations would desire to treat the United States justly.
"Salutary reductions in habitual expenditures" were urged in every
branch of the public service from the diplomatic and revenue services
to the judiciary and the naval yards. War might come, indeed, but
"sound principles would not justify our taxing the industry of our
fellow-citizens to accumulate treasure for wars to happen we know not
when, and which might not, perhaps, happen but from the temptations
offered by that treasure."
On all concrete matters the President's message cut close to the
line which Gallatin had marked out. The internal taxes should now be
dispensed with and corresponding reductions be made in "our habitual
expenditures." There had been unwise multiplication of federal offices,
many of which added nothing to the efficiency of the Government but only
to the cost. These useless offices should be lopped off, for "when we
consider that this Government is charged with the external and mutual
relations only of these States,... we may well doubt whether our
organization is not too complicated, too expensive." In this connection
Congress might well consider the Federal Judiciary, particularly the
courts newly erected, and "judge of the proportion which the institution
bears to the business it has to perform." * And finally, Congress should
consider whether the law relating to naturalization should not be
revised. "A denial of citizenship under a residence of fourteen years
is a denial to a great proportion of those who ask it"; and "shall we
refuse to the unhappy fugitives from distress that hospitality which
savages of the wilderness extended to our fathers arriving in this
land?"
* The studied moderation of the message gave no hint of
Jefferson's resolute purpose to procure the repeal of the
Judiciary Act of 1801. The history of this act and its
repeal, as well as of the attack upon the judiciary, is
recounted by Edward S. Corwin in "John Marshall and the
Constitution" in "The Chronicles of America."
The most inveterate foe could not characterize this message as
revolutionary, however much he might dissent from the policies
advocated. It was not Jefferson's way, indeed, to announce his
intentions boldly and hew his way relentlessly to his objective. He
was far too astute as a party leader to attempt to force his will upon
Republicans in Congress. He would suggest; he would advise; he would
cautiously express an opinion; but he would never dictate. Yet few
Presidents have exercised a stronger directive influence upon Congress
than Thomas Jefferson during the greater part of his Administration. So
long as he was en rapport with Nathaniel Macon, Speaker of the House,
and with John Randolph, Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means,
he could direct the policies of his party as effectively as the most
autocratic dictator. When he had made up his mind that Justice Samuel
Chase of the Supreme Court should be impeached, he simply penned a note
to Joseph Nicholson, who was then managing the impeachment of Judge
Pickering, raising the question whether Chase's attack on the principles
of the Constitution should go unpunished. "I ask these questions for
your consideration," said the President deferentially; "for myself,
it is better that I should not interfere." And eventually impeachment
proceedings were instituted.
In this memorable first message, the President alluded to a little
incident which had occurred in the Mediterranean, "the only exception to
this state of general peace with which we have been blessed." Tripoli,
one of the Barbary States, had begun depredations upon American commerce
and the President had sent a small squadron for protection. A ship of
this squadron, the schooner Enterprise, had fallen in with a Tripolitan
man-of-war and after a fight lasting three hours had forced the corsair
to strike her colors. But since war had not been declared and the
President's orders were to act only on the defensive, the crew of
the Enterprise dismantled the captured vessel and let her go. Would
Congress, asked the President, take under consideration the advisability
of placing our forces on an equality with those of our adversaries?
Neither the President nor his Secretary of the Treasury seems to have
been aware that this single cloud on the horizon portended a storm of
long duration. Yet within a year it became necessary to delay further
reductions in the naval establishment and to impose new taxes to meet
the very contingency which the peace-loving President declared most
remote. Moreover, the very frigates which he had proposed to lay up
in the eastern branch of the Potomac were manned and dispatched to the
Mediterranean to bring the Corsairs to terms.