MONTICELLO--AGRICULTURE AND POLITICS
When Jefferson left Philadelphia for what he sincerely believed would be
definite retirement from the field of politics, he felt weary, tired,
and already old. He had transacted all the business of his office with a
minimum of clerical assistance, attending himself to all the details not
only of foreign but also of domestic affairs, sometimes translating
documents which he did not trust Freneau with, preparing reports for the
President, digging in his manuals of international law, Wolfe,
Puffendorff, Vatel, and Grotius. The actual labor was enormous, the
variety of subjects amazing; many times during the course of a day he
had to shift from one subject to another. Under fire all the time,
harassed by the Federalist papers, consulted by the leaders of the party
which was beginning to form, he had not broken down under the strain,
but was in urgent need of complete rest and agricultural quietude. He
had packed books and furniture in advance and sent everything to
Monticello; his letter to Genet written, he set out for Virginia without
even waiting for the justification that would result from the order to
publish his correspondence with the French minister.
At that time a vague idea that he could turn a new leaf and start a new
life may fugitively have crossed his mind. He had respectfully but
profoundly admired Madame de Corny when he was in Paris. News from her
had come through Mrs. Church; Mr. de Corny had died; Madame de Corny
left a widow in very limited circumstances had retired to Rouen.[308]
It seems that he entertained the hope that she might decide to move to
America and in that case he would have liked to see her at Monticello:
"Madame de Cosway is in a convent ... that she would have rather sought
the mountain-top. How happy should I be that it were _mine_, that you,
she, and Madame de Corny would seek." But he had seen too many of these
brilliant French women in Philadelphia to believe that a Parisian could
ever become accustomed to the simplicity of Monticello and to its lack
of entertainments, and he made the suggestion very timidly: "I know of
no country where the remains of a fortune could place her so much at her
ease as this, and where public esteem is so much attached to worth,
regardless of wealth; our manners & the state of society here are so
different from those to which her habits have been formed, that she
would lose more perhaps in that scale." After all, he had not changed so
much since he had declared his flame to Belinda, almost in the same
terms, twenty years earlier. This was the typical Jeffersonian way of
presenting his own wishes, of letting the others decide after he had
stated the pros and cons; clearly he was not made to win personal
triumphs, either in love or in politics.
Of politics he was utterly sick. He pictured himself spending the rest
of his days in bucolic occupations. "The length of my tether is now
fixed for life from Monticello to Richmond," he wrote to Gates. "My
private business can never call me elsewhere, and certainly politics
will not, which I have ever hated both in theory and practice."[309]
Writing to Mrs. Church, he had gone into more details.
I am to be liberated from the hated occupations of politics retire
into the bosom of my family, my farm, & my books. I have my house to
build, my family to form, and to watch for the happiness of those who
labor for mine. I have one daughter married to a man of science,
sense, virtue and competence; in whom indeed I have nothing more to
wish. They live with me. If the other shall be as fortunate in the
process of time, I shall imagine myself as blessed as the most
blessed of the patriarchs.[310]
At Monticello he found Martha and her husband, Thomas Mann Randolph, and
induced the young couple to stay with him. Maria was now a tall girl,
vivacious and witty, who would soon find a suitor. Devoting himself
entirely to his family and domestic cares, Jefferson plunged into the
reorganization of his estate left to an overseer for more than ten
years, and granted so little attention to politics that he did not even
subscribe to any newspaper, being quite content with those published at
Richmond. "I think it is Montaigne who has said that ignorance is the
softest pillow on which a man can rest his head," he wrote to Edmund
Randolph. "I am sure it is true as to everything political, and shall
endeavor to estrange myself to everything of that character."[311] Since
that time there have been in American politics many instances of
politicians who left for a hunting party, or retired to their farms in
order to avoid responsibility. This was not the attitude of Jefferson;
his was no temporary retirement while waiting for the storm to blow
itself over. Had he chosen to remain in Philadelphia, as he had been
asked to do by Washington, he would have at least checked Hamilton's
personal influence and counterbalanced in Washington's mind the advice
and counsels of his enemy. His party had been reorganized and the
republicans had just obtained a majority in the new Congress, but his
principles were far from being secure. He indicated it himself in the
same letter to Randolph when he wrote:
I indulge myself on one political topic only, that is, in declaring
to my countrymen the shameless corruption of a portion of the
Representatives to the first and second Congresses, and their
implicit devotion to the Treasury. I think I do good in this, because
it may produce exertions to reform the evil on the success of which
the form of the government is to depend.
Shortly after coming back to Monticello, he discovered, somewhat to his
dismay, that the rank and file of the good people of the country did not
pay much attention to the political battle which was still raging in
Philadelphia. He went to "court" at Charlottesville at the beginning of
February and was amazed to find that his neighbors had not heard of
Madison's speeches in Congress or even of the recall of Genet.
I could not have supposed--he wrote to Madison--when at Philadelphia
that so little of what was passing there could be known even at
Kentucky as is the case here. Judging from this of the rest of the
Union, it is evident to me that the people are not in a condition
either to approve or disapprove of their government, nor consequently
to influence it.[312]
This would tend to give confirmation to the supposition I timidly
ventured in the last chapter. Neither the inflammatory speeches made in
Congress, nor the foundation of democratic clubs, nor the newspaper
battle between different editors had been able to rouse the people of
the country. In America, as in every other country, the rural
population, at that time the majority of the population, remained
passive and took little interest in discussions that did not immediately
affect their interests. Then, too, as in our days, the press was able to
modify and to influence to some extent public opinion, but did not
express it. Editors were years in advance of the slow-moving masses in
their prognostications. It takes a national emergency, a violent crisis
or a well-organized political machine to coalesce the great majority of
a people and force them to see beyond the limited horizon of their
village, their county or their State. This is so even now, and it was
certainly so a century and a half ago, when the parochial and provincial
spirit was still stronger than the national spirit.
Since this was realized by Jefferson, it is difficult to understand how
he did not come to the conclusion that his clear duty was to go back to
Philadelphia and do his utmost to educate an apathetic people. But he
was not the man to enjoy strife and struggle; he was too sensitive of
personal criticism and attacks, too timid also to care to exchange blows
with an opponent. He was the type of man who likes to play chess by
correspondence, to suggest solutions, but not the one "to knead the
dough", as the French say, and to take an active part in the daily game
of politics.
From his retirement he found time to answer letters from Madison and
Monroe. Before leaving Philadelphia, he had transmitted to the House of
Representatives a Report on the Privileges and Restrictions of the
Commerce of the United States.[313] It was incumbent upon Madison to
draw from it specific recommendations. Jefferson pointed out in a
dispassionate way the obstacles put by Great Britain to the growth of
American commerce, her lack of reciprocal treatment, her prohibitions
and restrictions. He ended by indicating that France had, of her own
accord, proposed negotiations for improving the commercial relations
between the two countries by a new treaty on fair and equal principles;
that her internal disturbances alone had prevented her from doing it,
though the government had repeatedly manifested reassuring dispositions.
On the contrary, "in spite of friendly advances and arrangements
proposed to Great Britain, they being already on as good a footing in
law, and a better in fact, than the most favored nation, they have not,
as yet, discovered any disposition to have it meddled with." As a
remedy, pending the conclusion of treaties, Jefferson laid down five
principles to protect American commerce and retaliate in so far as would
not hurt the interests of the American people, although at the beginning
trade might suffer from it. A storm broke out in Congress, and once
more Jefferson became the target of the Federalists.
He was not uninformed of these developments, for Madison and Monroe sent
him several letters at short intervals at the beginning of March; nor
did he leave his lieutenants without directions. He still hoped that a
war could be avoided; but he could not conceive that it would be
possible in any event to let Great Britain seize the French West Indies:
"I have no doubt that we ought to interpose at a proper time, and
declare both to France and England that these islands are to rest with
France, and that we will make a common cause with the latter for that
object." Having thus outlined these policies, he relapsed into his
ataraxy, affirming that he had not seen a Philadelphia paper until he
had received those inclosed by Madison. The patience of Monroe must have
been taxed to the breaking point when, after sending to his chief a long
letter full of detailed information, he received in answer an equally
long letter replete with agricultural disquisitions--"on such things as
you are too little of a farmer to take much interest in."[314]
The supposed leader of the Republicans was not more encouraging in his
letters to Madison when he wrote a month later: "I feel myself so
thoroughly weaned from the interest I took in the proceedings there,
while there, that I have never a wish to see one [a newspaper], and
believe that I shall never take another paper of any sort. I find my
mind totally absorbed by my rural occupation."[315] Yet the old fame
flared up occasionally, as when he learned that Hamilton was being
considered to succeed Pinckney who would be recalled from England: "a
more degrading measure could not have been proposed," he wrote to
Monroe. In regard to Hamilton, he foresaw an investigation on the
Treasury and had wanted to withdraw before it took place.[316]
But he fell back into the same detached attitude of mind, when he wrote
to Washington the next day: "I return to farming with an ardor which I
scarcely knew in my youth, and which has got the better entirely of my
love of study. Instead of writing ten or twelve letters a day, which I
have been in the habit of doing as a thing of course, I put off
answering my letters now, farmer-like, till a rainy day."
As a matter of fact, I doubt very much whether he had reached any such
equanimity. For if he was unwilling to reenter public life, he was not
averse to giving his opinion and advice in critical circumstances. While
Madison's resolutions were still before Congress, news arrived in
Philadelphia of the seizure of American ships in the Caribbean, under
the Order in Council of November 6. Indignation was running high and
democratic societies held patriotic meetings throughout the country. War
seemed imminent, and although Jefferson preferred to contemplate the
tranquil growth "of his lucern and potatoes", he still felt indignant
when thinking "of these scoundrels" (the British). Yet he believed that
war should be avoided and wrote to that effect to Tench Coxe:
We are alarmed here with the apprehension of war; and sincerely
anxious that it may be avoided; but not at the expense either of our
faith or honour.... As to myself I love peace, and I am anxious that
we should give the world still another useful lesson, by showing to
them other modes of punishing injuries than by war, which is as much
a punishment to the punisher as to the sufferers.[317]
To Washington he wrote two weeks later a most amusing letter, starting
with a dissertation on crop rotation and "a certain essence of dung, one
pint of which would manure an acre according to Lord Kaims", but not
forgetting, in a negligent way, to slip in at the end a piece of
political advice: "to try to extricate ourselves from the event of a
war; at the same time to try to rouse public opinion in Great Britain
and the only way to do it being to distress their commerce." But he
added once more, "I cherish tranquillity too much to suffer political
things to enter my mind at all."[318] This was nothing but the
non-intercourse policy then debated by the government and of which
Jefferson had evidently heard. When his letter reached the President, a
solution had already been adopted and Jay had sailed for England on the
mission which was to end with his signing the famous or infamous treaty.
The summer went on without any new letter from Jefferson. A letter of
the Secretary of State, asking him whether he would not consider lending
a hand to the President in the present emergency, found him in bed
"under a paroxysm of rheumatism which had kept him for ten days in
constant torment." Then he emphatically added,
No circumstance will evermore tempt me to engage in any thing
public.... It is a great pleasure to me to retain the esteem and
approbation of the President, and this forms the only ground of any
reluctance at being unable to comply with every wish of his. Pray
convey these sentiments, and a thousand more to him, which my
situation does not permit me to go into.[319]
This was the very time when the Whisky Boys of Eastern Pennsylvania
revolted against the excise laws of Hamilton which fell on them harder
than on any other part of the rural population, for they could not
market their grain for lack of transportation facilities and their only
means of living was distilling it into whisky. Individual acts of
resistance to the agents of the excise culminated in August, 1794, in an
armed convention denouncing the law and defying the government on
Braddock field, under the leadership of the chief expert of the
Jeffersonians, Albert Gallatin. Not only was the militia called but the
President and Hamilton went to visit the camp at Carlisle. The
insurrection ended without bloodshed, but the side of the
insurrectionists was taken up in the large cities by the Democratic
societies in which the Irish element was largely represented--hot-headed
people, recently come from an oppressed land, who felt an ingrained
spirit of revolt against soldiers and men in uniform,--until dressed in
a uniform themselves. The immediate effect of the Hamiltonian policy was
to amalgamate rural population and urban groups of mechanics and small
operatives in a hostile attitude towards the aristocratic government.
Hamilton thought the time had come to crush the vanguard of the
Jeffersonian troops, and Washington, who had an inveterate hatred of
anything smacking of disorder and mob rule, lent a favorable ear. He
wrote a stinging denunciation of the Democratic societies in his yearly
message to Congress.
This time Jefferson was aroused, although personally he had never had
anything to do with Tammany in New York nor any of the Democratic
societies in Philadelphia. He fairly exploded in a letter to James
Madison: the denunciation of the Democratic societies was "one of the
extraordinary acts of boldness of which we have seen so many from the
faction of monocrats." How could one condemn the Democratic societies
and let alone the Society of the Cincinnati, "a self-created one,
carving out for itself hereditary distinctions, lowering over our
Constitution eternally." It was an inexcusable aggression. With regard
to the transactions against the excise law, he refused to take seriously
the "meeting of Braddock field", and ridiculed the mobilizing of an army
against men who were not thinking seriously of separating, "simply
consulting about it."--"But to consult on a question does not amount to
a determination of that question in the affirmative, still less to the
acting _on such determination_," he advised. A fine legal distinction
which Jefferson forgot at the time of the Burr conspiracy! But "the
first and only cause of the whole trouble was the infernal excise law."
The first error was "to admit it by the Constitution"; the second, to
act on that admission; the third and last will be to "make it the
instrument of dismembering the Union." In conclusion he advised Madison
to stay at his post, "to take the front of the battle" for Jefferson's
own security, and once again he reaffirmed that he would not give up his
retirement for the empire of the universe.[320]
On April 23, 1795, he wrote to James Madison to refuse categorically any
resumption of office high or low. That was already his firm resolution
when he had left Philadelphia and it was even stronger then, since his
health had broken down during the last eight months: "My age requires
that I should place my affairs in a clear state. The question is forever
closed with me." To propose his name would only mean a division of votes
in the party and that was to be avoided before everything.[321] To Giles
he repeated that his days "were busy with now and then a pious
ejaculation for the French and Dutch, returning with due despatch to my
clover, potatoes, wheat, etc."[322] In the meantime Jay had returned
with the treaty surrendering practically all the claims of the United
States, placing the country in a position of constant inferiority with
reference to England, opening the Mississippi to the British trade and
forbidding American vessels to carry molasses, sugar, and cotton to any
ports except their own. It was laid in special session before the Senate
on June 8, ratified on June 24, and sent to the President without the
contents being known to any one. It would have remained secret if
Thomson Mason of Virginia had not taken a copy of it to Bache, who
published it the next day in the _Aurora_. It was a most humiliating and
scarcely defensible transaction: Jay had been outgeneraled at every step
by Grenville and, in a way, betrayed by Hamilton. But although it was
distinctly a Federalist victory, it offered good campaign material for
the Republicans.[323]
On August 30, Jefferson sent to Thomas Mann a sort of apologia, telling
him how, "while all hands were below deck, every one at his own business
and the captain in his cabin attending to the log book a rogue of a
pilot had run the ship into an enemy's port." Not that he wanted to
express any opinion of his own but, "metaphor apart, there is much
dissatisfaction with Mr. Jay and his treaty.... For my part, I consider
myself now but as a passenger leaving the world and its government to
those who are likely to live longer in it."[324]
With H. Tazewell he was more outspoken: a glance at the treaty had been
enough to convince him that the United States would be much better
without any treaty than with a treaty of that sort. "Acquiescence under
insult is not the way to escape war," and he could only hope that the
Executive's sense of public honor and spirit would be awakened. To
Madison he gave the benefit of his advice. There was no leader in the
camp of the Republicans to take advantage of the situation; rioting in
the streets could not influence favorably the judgment of Washington,
who had not yet signed, and there was always Hamilton, who had retired
to be sure, but was "a host in himself"; the Federalists were in a
defile, but "too much security will give time to his talents and
indefatigableness to extricate them." He ended with an appeal to
Madison: "We have had only middling performances to oppose to him. In
truth, when he comes forward, there is nobody but yourself who can meet
him.... For God's sake take your pen, and give a fundamental reply to
Curtius and Camillus."[325]
With real perspicacity Jefferson had put his finger on the fundamental
weakness of the Republicans. They were only the yeomanry; they counted
a number of very honest and distinguished men; some of them were even
brilliant in debates and could flatter themselves that they were
victorious, as long as the Federalist chieftain did not appear in person
on the battlefield. When he did, however, they had no outstanding man
with the same capacity for work, the same ability to marshal facts, to
present cogent arguments and to use biting sarcasm. Jefferson alone,
with his great felicity of expression and his mastery of style, could
have opposed successfully the Federalist leader, but, as he wrote to
Rutledge: "after five and twenty years' continual employment (in the
service of our country), I trust it will be thought I have fulfilled my
tour, like a punctual soldier and may claim my discharge."[326]
That he would have been a redoubtable opponent, had he chosen to be so,
appears in a letter he sent at the time to William B. Giles. The treaty
once ratified by the Senate and signed by the President, it was thought
that the House, on which fell the duty of making the necessary
appropriations for the enforcement of the different articles, might
possibly pass in their turn on the merits of the document. Randolph had
been requested by the President to give his opinion on the subject and
did it in one of those written consultations which Jefferson had so
often been asked to prepare himself, when in the official family of
Washington. To Giles, who was to attack the treaty in the House with
Gallatin and Madison, Jefferson sent an elaborate and cruel dissection
of Randolph's opinion:
The fact is that he has generally given his principles to one party,
and his practice to the other, the oyster to one, the shell to the
other.... On the precedent now to be set will depend the future
construction of our Constitution, and whether the powers of
legislation shall be transferred from the President, Senate, and
House of Representatives to the President and Senate, and Piamingo
or any other Indian, Algerine, or other chief.[327]
Clearly he was getting back into his stride and when thoroughly aroused,
as he had been once or twice in his career, he could also hit back or
rather pierce with rapid thrust of the rapier. And yet he was not really
thinking of reentering the arena, for at the same time he was offering
to George Wythe to superintend an edition of the laws of Virginia, of
which he had made as complete a collection as he could, "either the
manuscripts crumbling into dust or printed."[328] Yet he had an eye upon
the budding geniuses of the Democratic party. Soon he realized the value
of Albert Gallatin, who had undertaken a thorough analysis and
demolition of Hamilton's administration:
Hamilton's object from the beginning was to throw them into forms
which would be utterly undecypherable.... If Mr. Gallatin would
undertake to reduce this chaos to order, present us with a clear view
of our finances, and put them in a form as simple as they will admit,
he will merit an immortal honor. The accounts of the United States
ought to be, and may be made as simple as those of a common farmer,
and capable of being understood by common farmers.[329]
With such sentences, simple and easily remembered, such felicity of
expression and of thought, one can make a lasting impression on the
people, without addressing directly the Indians of Tammany Hall or
participating in whisky riots. One can also throw suspicion of
intentional dishonesty on one's adversaries, coin mottoes which,
repeated in a political campaign, fix themselves easily in the
unsophisticated minds of the common people. But it does not ensue
necessarily that Jefferson was an arch plotter, pulling the strings and
laying plots to explode years later. He was quite sincere in his dislike
of Hamilton's budgets, for the simple reason that he did not understand
them himself. The master financier and expert was beyond Jefferson's
comprehension; in many respects he was even far ahead of his own time,
while Jefferson, in matters of finance at least, remained all his life
an eighteenth-century man. But the young Swiss-American who had made his
mark in the whisky insurrection must have felt himself elated at
Jefferson's approval. By such appropriate compliments and
encouragements, great tacticians create and foster party and personal
loyalty, and Jefferson was a past master in this difficult art.
As he had encouraged Gallatin, he encouraged Giles, kept in touch with
him and through him sent a word of congratulation to a new Republican
recruit, Doctor Leib: "I know not when I have received greater
satisfaction than on reading the speech of Doctor Leib in the
Pennsylvania Assembly. He calls himself a new member. I congratulate
honest republicanism on such an acquisition, and promise myself much
from a career which begins on such elevated ground."[330] He reminded
him that Democratic societies were proscribed in England and that it
would be interesting to know the terms of the bill proposed by Pitt
against them. Gallatin again called for his commendation for a speech
printed in Bache's _Aurora_, the sole organ of the Republicans since
Freneau had discontinued his _Gazette_: "It is worthy of being printed
at the end of the _Federalist_, as the only rational commentary on the
part of the law to which it relates."[331] Then Jefferson raved over the
indignities heaped upon the country by the treaty, over the point made
by the Federalists that the House had nothing to say in the matter, and
in his fury he even went so far as to treat Washington more severely
than he had ever done before. "Curse on his virtues," he exclaimed;
"they have undone his country." This political advice was naturally
buried under rural news: "Mercury at twenty degrees in the morning.
Corn fallen at Richmond to twenty shillings." But this bucolic note
stopped short and the political thermometer was consulted again and
indicated that "Nicholas was sure of his election, R. Joue and Jo.
Monroe, in competition for the other vote of the county."
Three weeks later Jefferson dug in his files to send Madison more
ammunition, showing clearly that, at least in one case, Washington
himself had recognized formerly the authority of the legislature, that
is to say both branches of the House, when it came to ratifying the
treaty with the new Emperor of Morocco.[332] Then he wrote to his former
neighbor, Philip Mazzei, a letter which was to cause him more
difficulties than any of the previous acts of his career. He thought
that he could and should give news of the country to this curious
character, who had come to Virginia as a vine-grower to engage in
agricultural experiments but who was also the former agent of the Duke
of Tuscany and of Stanislas of Poland, a Grimm "_au petit pied_", a
literary correspondent and a philosopher. In all fairness to Jefferson a
preliminary remark is here necessary. He was apt in conversation to take
his cue from his interlocutors rather than to force on them any topic,
and he was apt also to speak in the same tone and same diapason. In his
letters he instinctively yielded to the same tendency, changing his tone
and style according to his correspondent. Writing to an Italian he
adopted a flowery, metaphoric, and emphatic manner not often found in
his letters, and in his desire to flatter the Tuscan ear of his friend,
he overshot the mark and overemphasized what he would have stated much
more moderately to an American:
Against us are the Executive, the Judiciary, two out of three
branches of the Legislature, all the officers of the government, all
who want to be officers, all timed men who prefer the calm of
despotism to the boisterous sea of liberty.... It would give you a
fever were I to name to you the apostates who have gone over to
these heresies, men who were Samsons in the field and Solomons in
the council, but who have had their heads shorn by the harlot
England....
But these men had not realized the great strength of the party then
coming into being: "We have only to awake and snap the Lilliputian cords
with which they have been entangling us during the first sleep which
succeeded our labors." Then came the customary mention of his health,
even more mournful than usual: "I begin to feel the effects of age. My
health has suddenly broken down, with symptoms which give me to believe
that I shall not have much to encounter of the _tedium vitae_."[333]
Little did he believe when he indulged in this rhetorical outburst that
Mazzei would give the letter to an Italian paper, that it would be
translated from the Italian into French, from French into English and
finally appear in America.
For Jefferson was eager to remain on good personal terms with
Washington, even if he strongly disapproved of his policies, and this
appeared when a few months later he denied having communicated to
Bache's _Aurora_ the questionnaire on the _Little Sarah_, and he seized
the occasion to assure Washington once again of his affectionate
sentiments. But he was already thinking of protecting himself, for in
the same letter he asked the President to send him copies of the
opinions presented by Hamilton and Randolph as "they had his opinion and
he never had been able to obtain copy of theirs." And significantly he
added, "Though I do not know that it will ever be of the least
importance to me, yet one loves to possess arms, though they hope never
to have occasion for them."[334]
The summer was apparently entirely occupied in agricultural and
scientific pursuits. La Rochefoucauld-Liancourt, the former president of
the National Assembly, at whose house Jefferson used to visit when in
Paris to meet the "_republicains_", was then traveling through the
United States and stopped at Monticello for a week. The Duke has left us
a most valuable description of Jefferson's establishment and the country
around it. He praised the house "which will deserve when completed to be
ranked with the most pleasant mansions in France and in Europe." He
admired the view from the hill: for "Mr. Jefferson's house commands one
of the most extensive prospects you can meet with." But his eye was that
of a refined and overcivilized Frenchman of the eighteenth century
accustomed to limited horizons, limited forests, to a certain balance
between the woods, the rivers and the lands inclosed with hedges, to a
nature stamped, modified, remolded by centuries of human labor. The
contrast between the "moderate French landscapes" and the unlimited
vistas in which plowed fields occupied a negligible space, impressed him
almost painfully.
[Illustration: MONTICELLO AS IT APPEARS TO-DAY
_Copyright Harris and Ewing, Washington, D. C._]
It was a magnificent view, but too vast; and rather than look at the
scene as it presented itself, he preferred to call on fancy "to picture
to us those plains and mountains such as population and culture will
render them in a greater or smaller number of years." He looked with
some suspicion at the numerous agricultural experiments of Jefferson,
who seemed "to have derived his knowledge from books." He was not alone
in this opinion. In any farming country, innovations are looked upon
askance and we are not surprised to learn that "his system is entirely
confined to himself; it is censured by some of his neighbours, who are
also employed in improving their culture with ability and skill, but he
adheres to it, and thinks it founded on just observation." Finally came
the picture of the master himself and life at Monticello, worth
preserving and reproducing.
In private life, Mr. Jefferson displays a mild, easy and obliging
temper, though he is somewhat cold and reserved. His conversation is
the most agreeable kind, and he possesses a stock of information not
inferior to that of any other man. In Europe he would hold a
distinguished rank among men of letters, and as such he has already
appeared there; at present he is employed with activity and
perseverance in the management of his farms and buildings; and he
orders, directs and pursues in the minutest detail every branch of
business relative to them. I found him in the midst of the harvest,
from which the scorching heat of the sun does not prevent his
attendance. His negroes are clothed, and treated as well as white
servants could be. As he cannot expect any assistance from the two
small neighboring towns, every article is made on his farm; his
negroes are cabinet-makers, carpenters, masons, bricklayers, smiths,
etc. The children he employs in a nail factory, which yields already
a considerable profit. The young and old negresses spin for the
clothing of the rest. He animates them by rewards and distinctions;
in fine, his superior mind directs the management of his domestic
concerns with the same abilities, activity, and regularity which he
evinced in the conduct of public affairs, and which he is calculated
to display in every situation of life. In the superintendence of the
household he is assisted by his two daughters, Mrs. Randolph and Miss
Maria, who are handsome, modest, and amiable women. They have been
educated in France.
It is pleasant to have the direct testimony of a foreigner and a
philosopher on the way Jefferson treated his slaves. But how can we
believe that a man who could supervise all the details of the
agricultural and industrial life around Monticello and endure the
harvest sun was absolutely broken down in health? If he had ever been,
Jefferson certainly was picking up. It seems probable that he did not
discuss politics with the noble traveler. Perhaps he heard another
recital of the excesses of the French Revolution,--a painful subject and
one that did not serve any purpose; far better was it to exchange views
on crop rotation, sheep raising, dung and manure, clover and potatoes
and to demonstrate the new plow he had invented with a mold board of
least resistance, which was to bring him some years later the "_grande
medaille_" of the Agricultural Society of Paris.[335]
The first mention of the coming presidential election occurs in a letter
to Monroe of July 10, 1796. The treaty had finally passed, but the party
of the monocrats was shaken to its very foundation, "Mr. Jay and his
advocates are treaty-foundered." The result was not doubtful. Even if a
monocrat were elected, he would be overborne by the republican sense of
his constituents. "If a republican, he will, of course, give fair play
to that sense and lead things into the channel of harmony between the
governors and the governed. In the meantime, patience!" He mentions that
in order to operate a division and to split the Virginia vote, _they_
had unsuccessfully endeavored to run Patrick Henry for vice president
and would probably fall back on Pinckney, "in which they regard his
southern position rather than his principles." But curiously enough the
presidential nominees or preferences are not even mentioned. Could
Monroe really believe that _Hamlet_ was going to be played without
Hamlet, and that the election of a vice president was the only thing
that mattered? This omission was far more significant than any expressed
preference. If Jefferson mentioned no candidates, it was simply because
he already knew at that date that his faithful lieutenants in Congress
were thinking of him as the only logical candidate, the only one who had
not participated actively in the last three years' fierce debates in
Congress, the only one who had not officially and openly taken a
definite position, and consequently would be entirely free to make
whatever concessions were necessary to reestablish harmony in the
divided camps of the voters. The result of the election was certainly in
doubt; but at a time when foreign affairs were the dominant question,
when in spite of the Jay treaty England was multiplying almost
unbearable insults, when the nation was deeply humiliated, and even the
Federalists resented the terms of the treaty, there were only two men of
the first rank in America who had maintained the prestige of the United
States before foreign nations and had shown themselves to be able
negotiators: the man who with Franklin had put his signature to the
Treaty of Peace, and the man who had concluded treaties of commerce with
the nations of Europe; Adams and Jefferson.
A strange campaign it was, in which the champion of the Republicans
seemed to remain completely silent. The middle of December came, and
Jefferson had not yet manifested any desire to run, nor had he made any
declaration concerning his program. He had to come out however when, on
the night of the sixteenth, he received a letter from Madison informing
him that there was no longer any doubt about the logical choice of the
Republicans and that Madison would decline to be candidate. Jefferson
took up his pen at once to define his position to his friend. He hoped
that Adams would be elected; and in that case he would be satisfied with
the second place although he would prefer the third, that is, his
rejection, since he would be free to remain at home. It was desirable,
however, in case of a tie, that Madison be instructed to request on his
behalf that Mr. Adams should be preferred. Some of the reasons he gave
were highly honorable, the best being that Mr. Adams was his senior and
had always "ranked" him in public life, either in France or in America.
Other reasons he did not indicate: one was evidently that the situation
had never worn so gloomy an aspect since the year 1783 and that
Jefferson did not believe he could steer clear of the present
difficulties.[336]
Ten days later he wrote more at length to Rutledge. No news had come
from Philadelphia, but he protested that he had no political ambition:
"Before my God, I shall from the bottom of my heart, rejoice at
escaping." Scrutinizing himself, he found that the unmerited abuse he
had been subjected to still rankled; he was convinced that "no man will
ever bring out of that office the reputation which carries him into it."
The honeymoon would be as short in that case as in any other, and its
moments of ecstasy would be ransomed by years of torment and hatred.
Frankly he had no heart for the job. Nor was this a declaration of
philosophical principles, but another instance of his political
foresight, and a simple admission of facts, for not only had Franklin
been bitterly attacked after his death, but Washington himself was not
immune from public abuse, and such would be the fate of Adams.
Jefferson was quite sincere when he declared: "I have no ambition to
govern men; no passion which would lead me to delight to ride in a
storm." In advance, he repeated the _suave mari magno_ of the old poet
and hoped that he would not be elected, his only wish was that the
newspapers would permit him "to plant his corn, beans, peas, etc. in
hills or drills as he pleased, while our eastern friend will be
struggling with the storm which is gathering over us, perhaps be
shipwrecked in it! This is certainly not a moment to covet the helm."
If this was not a sincere and true statement, then language certainly
has been given to man to conceal his thought. If Jefferson was thirsty
for power at that time he was more Machiavellian than Machiavelli
himself. But in spite of the inferences of ill-intentioned historians, I
do not see that there is the slightest ground to doubt Jefferson's
sincerity ... except that he accepted finally the vice presidency, as he
clearly hinted he would if it were offered to him.[337] He ended with a
picturesque and energetic phrase and said in French what he could not
say in English. He had not forgotten the words he had heard in the
streets of Paris and perhaps in some salons after dinner, but certainly
not in the mouth of Madame de Tesse or Madame de Corny: "_Au diable les
bougres!_"
The next day he started writing to John Adams: he had not received any
direct news of the election, but from his own calculations he had every
reason to believe that barring a "trick worthy of your arch-friend of
New York, Hamilton", Adams would be elected. In that eventuality he
wished to send his best wishes, and had only one hope to express, that
Adams would be able to avoid the war. A friendly, sincere letter which
Adams never saw. As Jefferson was going to send it, came Madison's
letter of the seventeenth, announcing the complete results of the
election.
It caused a certain amount of surprise to Jefferson; the vote had come
much nearer an equality than he had expected, and, as he wrote a week
later to Volney, "the difference between sixty-eight and seventy-one
votes is little sensible." The presidency would have been decidedly
distasteful to him; the vice presidency was something different and he
could not in his own mind decide whether he "had rather have it or not
have it." Then he went into a curious piece of philosophizing which
marks him as very different from eighteenth-century philosophers and
eighteenth-century optimists. More of a realist in politics than he is
given credit for, he showed himself once more a disciple of Hobbes in
his vision of society:
I do not recollect in all the animal kingdom a single species but man
which is eternally and systematically engaged in the destruction of
its own species. What is called civilization seems to have no other
effect than to teach him to pursue the principle of _bellum omnium in
omnia_ on a larger scale, and in place of the little contests of
tribe against tribe, to engage all quarters of the earth in the same
work of destruction. When we add to this that as to the other species
of animals, the lions and tigers are mere lambs compared with men
alone, that nature has been able to find a sufficient barrier against
the too great multiplication of other animals and of man himself, an
equilibrating power against the fecundity of generation. My situation
points my views chiefly to his wars in the physical world: yours
perhaps exhibit him as equally warring in the moral one. We both, I
believe, join in wishing to see him softened.[338]
For the first time Jefferson was going to occupy a position of prestige
in the American Government and to become President of the Senate, second
only to the President, the "heir apparent", as Adams had termed himself
during the preceding administration. Far from rejoicing over the honor,
he expressed his reluctance to attend elaborate ceremonies for the
inauguration, and he did his best to wriggle out of them. He asked
whether it would not be possible for him to be notified of his election
by mail instead of being waited upon by a special delegation from the
Senate; then he looked up the Constitution and decided that he could
just as well take oath of office in Charlottesville as in Philadelphia,
and that it was hardly worth the trouble, since Congress was to adjourn
at once, to undertake the long journey over muddy roads for such an
ordeal. Finally he set out for Philadelphia. He had reentered public
life for twelve more years and little suspected that it would be so long
before he could come back to dear Monticello and resume his agricultural
experiments.